The lamb is growing quickly, and I finally got a photo of it that wasn’t too far away or blurred. He follows his mama closely, sometimes hopping with exuberance. I tore myself away by looking forward to seeing him again on the way back.
As I walked up our street, I noticed that Joyce’ mailbox was open. The next one up, the log house, also was agape. That got my attention, so I checked them all, both coming and going in case I absentmindedly missed one. Every mailbox from our house to Qualla was hanging open except for the three lined up at the base of Minerva. Some had mail in them; most were empty. When I came home, I looked at ours, across the street, and at the end. We had been spared the wee hour inspection. Perhaps the culprit was frightened off by the dead end street as it ends at Amy’s steep drive.
I took something down to Amy and found Ron on the porch. By his own admission, mornings are rough. I try to limit the time I spend with him, especially early in the day, being aware that breathing does not come easy. I would have left with the barest of greetings, but he asked how much weight I’d lost. I would love to have answered 50 or some other astronomical number, but the weight has varied only 6 pounds in the last six months. Unfortunately, I proved it by looking at my log. Six pounds wouldn’t even qualify for the yo-yo label. Speaking of weight reminded him of seeing Tina Fey exposing secrets of undergarments that enable stars to appear svelte in tight clothing. It was hilarious.
As I started down the stairs, I said, “That’s great to start the day off with a good laugh.”
Ron chuckled and said, “I find it good to start the day.”
He paused for effect and said, “It’s better than being towed off somewhere.”
Amen to that!