-->
Well, to continue where I left off last week, Larry did manage to get that other radiator to work in the crewcab; but, by the time he got everything back together again, it was after midnight, and I’d already sent the kids (except Keith, who was helping Larry) to bed, so Larry and I crawled into the feathers, too. The next morning, after much struggling to cram all our paraphernalia into Larry’s big toolboxes and storage bins he’d mounted on pickup and trailer, he gave up and went to Wal-Mart for two more large bins. We finally departed, somewhere in the middle of the afternoon, in the More-Door Ford in all its glory.
Well, maybe not all its glory; the trim is not all on yet, nor the emblems; and the chrome handles which go between the doors are not on. Also, only half the power windows have the wires hooked up, and the all-door lock button only locks four doors. Just as soon as we have an extra $500, Larry will buy the adapters for the rear axle, to make it into a dually.
Did I tell you that, to beef up the frame, he wedged a Chevy frame, which is slightly smaller, into the Ford frame? It was such a tight fit that he had to hammer it into place. We didn’t want our lovely pickup winding up in a “V” shape, we didn’t! The teal is so dark, you can hardly see the green in it until the sun shines right on it. It’s covered with mother-of-pearl, and just glistens.
As we were walking out of the house, the kids were picking up last-minute toys for Caleb and Victoria. Hannah gathered up a handful of board books for Victoria.
Caleb, noting this, said seriously, “I’m getting old enough that I don’t need to read books anymore.”
haha What he forgets, is that in only three short months, he’ll be doing a mighty lot of reading books! Actually, I think he was only referring to board books, which he considers baby books, because he really does like to read.
Tuesday evening we ate supper--pork and rice soup--in a pretty rest area in Kansas. There were so many trees and hills, we couldn’t even see the interstate. All kinds of birds were singing their evening songs, including many that we don’t have around Columbus. But the trees were so thick, we could hardly see any of them.
That night, we camped in the middle of Kansas beside the Kanopolis Reservoir. While Larry and the boys set up the tents (in the dark, as usual) (with nothing but flashlights for light, since we’d forgotten to get some kerosene and mantles for our lantern), Lydia and Caleb entertained themselves walking up and down a large sloped rock and jumping off the top of it. I don’t know what was so funny about it, but they were periodically consumed with severe cases of giggles as they climbed. They were pretending all sorts of things: they were mountain goats scaling a mountain; they were shinglers shinnying up somebody’s roof; they were firemen climbing a ladder to a burning upper floor. Imagination eliminates boredom, and that’s the truth of it.
Hester, in the meanwhile, was doing what Hesters do best: catching bugs. Mostly, lightning bugs. Lydia steers clear of her sister when she’s in this mode.
Several miles to the east of this campground is the Smoky Hills Air National Guard Range. As we were crossing the dam on the way to the camping area, we saw, far up in the night sky, an extremely bright yellow light. It stayed still in one place, and every now and then something was shot off from it, looking like a pop-bottle rocket flying upwards, leaving a smoky trail. Flashing tracers filled the sky, and the lights of jets could be seen; but they were so far away, and at such a high altitude, we could hardly hear them. Occasionally the light abruptly went out; then in a few minutes, it came back on. Very strange. We surmise the light, probably about the same candle-watt power as the light in a lighthouse, was on a hot-air balloon, since it was hanging silently in the sky.
Discovering to our disgust that the roof over the rest rooms and bathhouse did not extend completely over the showers, and the showers had no curtains, we posted Dorcas at the entrance to ward off intruders while Hannah and I showered. She snatched up a long-handled flashlight in each hand, lowered her eyebrows, leaned forward in battle pose, and made a threatening face.
I picked the most private shower I could find, and Hannah did likewise. I put towel and dry duds just around the corner, and turned on the faucet, which consisted of one handle, one temperature. No choice.
Being a person who has never learnt about temperance and moderation, I promptly turned the shower on full blast, the better to get the water hot quickly. A mighty torrent came blowing out the nozzle, shooting clear out of the shower, and drowning my clothes and towel alike. So Dorcas had to run back to the tent to get another towel. The clothes were still wearable, although I did feel slightly damp around the gills.
We were able to finish our ablutions without interruption, probably on account of not only the lateness of the hour, but also the earliness of the summer, and the fact that, for most people, the Memorial Weekend was over and done with, so the park had few other campers.
During the night we were serenaded by coyotes. One was definitely a young one; he kept trying to howl in as deep a tone as his elders, but his voice kept cracking, and he wound up on a silly, high-pitched, wavering note, rather like a teenaged boy might do. The children were all asleep (the three older boys were in their own tent), so Larry and I tried not to laugh loudly enough to awaken anybody; but that coyote was funny.
At sunrise, the birds launched into an exhilarating chorus overhead. I really like that, I do.
Just behind and to the left of the tent was a barbecue pit, which consisted of a small grill surrounded by a circular ridge of rocks. That morning, the park crews were removing the rocks and small grills, digging a trench, pouring cement into it, and placing a larger grill into the cement. Well, I was sitting at a picnic table to the left of the railroad ties, when I noticed that Joseph, holding Victoria’s hand, had led her into a rather precarious situation on some railroad ties alongside a graveled drive. Quite sure she’d fall, and Joseph, although he always has good intentions, would be unable to catch her, I leaped to my feet and went off like a shot to save my baby.
But I tripped over the railroad tie, and made the park attendant’s hair stand straight up on end by very nearly sitting smack-dab in his newly-poured cement.
Staggering around like a drunken sailor, I eventually caught my balance, grinned stupidly at him, remarking intelligently, “Ooops,” then went off to collect Victoria, who was keeping her balance just fine, on top of three railroad ties.
Hannah, Victoria, Caleb, and Lydia went to watch the boats on Kanopolis Reservoir. Hannah carried Victoria through the park and down the lane to the lake; but, after that, she was all out of air, so I carried her (meaning Victoria, not Hannah) back up the lane (which seemed a lot steeper than it had coming down, especially since we were walking right into a strong wind) and back to the pickup. By the time we got back, I was wishing mightily for an all-terrain stroller.
I bought my usual souvenirs as we traveled--postcards. One had a picture of a huge, devastating tornado, the famous one that hit Kansas in 1990, staying on the ground for several hours, sometimes growing to over a half-mile in diameter, and wracking up billions of dollars worth of damage. One person was killed, and several were injured. We took up a dialogue on the topic of tornadoes, including such actions as dashing for the basement.
Caleb added his two-bits: “Daddy used to have a basement in his shop!” (He was talking about the grease pit that Larry used to have, with a very narrow staircase leading down into it, before he put in his hydraulic lift, which made things considerably easier.)
We had very few mechanical mishaps, especially considering the fact that we’d had hardly any time to test-drive the pickup, and there were all sorts of ingenious inventions and devices and contrivances, untried and unproven. Just think of all the things that had been extended and elongated: drive shaft, fuel lines, brake lines, frame, cab, headliner, electrical wiring, and so on; any one of which had the potential of causing problems, were it not done properly.
We learned that we can switch from the back tank to the front tank when we run out of fuel while driving; but we’d better not try it the other way around!--and certainly not if there are no shoulders on the road. It takes altogetherly too long for the fuel pump to pull fuel up the lines from the back tank, and too much air gets in the lines, and the Cummins decides to take a little siesta.
Fortunately, this fiasco occurred on the turnpike, where there are, in fact, shoulders; so we coasted onto the side, and Larry set about making fuel fountains under the hood, while Keith cranked the starter. Directly they were rewarded with the welcome sound of that big motor launching into its familiar chuckle, and we were soon back in action.
After loading three pickups onto the slant trailer, we learned that, because the motor had to work so much harder, plastic clamps on inner cooler lines just don’t hold. The hoses would suddenly blow loose, sounding like a NASA air tunnel. Luckily, this incommodity was not serious, causing us only to lose a measure of power. Pulling off at the next exit, Larry clamped hoses back together again. The next time it happened, he bought a couple of good metal clamps. And, when it occurred again, he wiggled a thingamajigger closer to a whatchamacallit, overlapped the hoses just a bit, and tightened the clamps just a little bit more. Voilá! No more lines blowing off.
We arrived in Guthrie, Oklahoma, early Wednesday evening. The people who owned Huskey Auto Sales, Tim Huskey and his wife, have sold the business and are planning to be missionaries to Mexico. They had a beautiful large house for their family of five girls and one boy, but they sold it and are living in a large camper trailer on the property until they start a ‘church tour’ through the southeastern United States sometime this month. The terms of sale of the business include a life-time monthly payment, which, they told us, will more than support them in Mexico; so they will not have to depend only on support from churches, as most missionaries do. Their oldest child is thirteen; the youngest is three months.
Did you ever ponder what differences there are in people?-- some stop at nothing to acquire more; while others give up all manner of riches and belongings, just to tell others the wonderful old gospel story. Those in the first category will be mightily disappointed when they end their life here, and discover they have invested nothing in the life to come!
Since it was Wednesday evening, the Huskeys were planning to go to church; but Tim wound up missing the service on account of our inopportune arrival. Instead, he helped Larry load and strap down the load of pickups, which takes a good deal of time. They have a giant forklift which they use to put vehicles where they want them, and they are quite skilled at using it, too. The pickup they put in the middle of our slant trailer has been burned. We got it for its axles and transmission, which will go under a red extended-cab pickup, which had its underside ripped right out from under it.
Originally, the middle pickup was facing frontward, but that put too much weight on the crewcab, so Tim picked it up and turned it around. Upon setting the third pickup on the trailer, we realized that a 50-foot trailer, rather than our 48-footer, would’ve been just about right--the pickup box hung off the end a good two feet, and the rear wheels were right on the edge of the trailer. Larry used his heaviest chain, and doubled it, to hold it on.
-->He put several more pounds of air into the tires before we pulled out, so the pickup didn’t sag in the back
Meanwhile, I trotted around taking pictures. The sun was going down, and was a pulsing orange orb in the sky, made to look somewhat strange because of the prairie fires in Mexico. I followed a cottontail and got some good pictures of him. But somewhere around there, I think I walked through some poison ivy or sumac or oak or something; I have a big splotch on my leg that doesn’t want to go away, and which I try desperately all day long not to scratch. I tried Caladryl on it, and discovered that I’m not only allergic to oral antihistamine, but also topical. The spot turned fiery red and looked like one enormous blister. So now I’m using an anti-acne formula with a main ingredient of salicylic acid. When I spotted this bottle in my bathroom cupboard, I gladly snatched it right out --anything with acid in it sounded marvelous, since perhaps it would eat that itchy matter right off my leg. I’d much rather have something burning, than itching; especially when I know I don’t dare scratch it, for fear of spreading the awful stuff.
We pulled onto a truck scales at a gas station the next morning--nearly dumping the trailer off the concrete ramp up to the scales in the process, which made my heart pound unnecessarily hard--and discovered our entire rig, counting humans and all, weighed over 30,000 pounds.
The ramp was narrow, and cut in at an odd angle just before the scales; and we could see deep gouges in the concrete and in the ground below the ramp where truck trailers had fallen off it. Stupid people that make such booby traps!--they ought to be thrown out of airplanes at high altitudes, not having been told there was a parachute strapped to their back, and have the parachute activated by remote control only after they had tumbled in terror for a good long ways. Reckon they would then be sympathetic with the fright incurred by drivers (and passengers) when they suddenly spot their trailer tires just on the verge of plunging into a yawning, gaping hole?
Should that have happened to us, not only would we have ruined at least two tires, and perhaps wheels and axles as well, but very probably that top-heavy load would have tipped right over and come crashing down, no doubt tearing the fifth-wheel plate right loose from the pickup. And there would go all our profit, straight down the drain. Imagine the enormous bill for a wrecker service to get everything upright again!
Anyway, I’m mighty glad I happened to look in my rear-view mirror when I did.
A friend of the Huskeys was visiting them, and he had his little girl with him, a child of about 2 ½. He had her up on his shoulders.
After a few minutes, she said, “I want down.”
The father didn’t notice.
“I want down,” repeated the little girl, slightly louder.
He went on talking.
“I want down!” she exclaimed.
No response.
“I want down!” she screeched.
He jiggled her about, hoping to hush the irritating noise behind his head. The noise increased.
“I WANT DOWN!!” she screamed at the top of her lungs.
Finally it occurred to the man that his small daughter wanted down, so he put her down.
She immediately marched over to me, pointed up at Victoria, and said, “Baby.” She stared at me intently. Then, pointing to the ground, she demanded, “I want down!”
haha Seems she wanted me to put Victoria down, so she could play with her. (No, I wasn’t about to put Victoria down.) (And neither did Victoria want down, huh-uh.) I smiled at the child.
“No, she can’t get down,” I said.
And she, satisfied to at least get an answer, which was, by all appearances, more than she was accustomed to, trotted off.
It bugs me when parents don’t answer their children. That little girl asked to get down nicely, the first time! If the father would’ve answered her immediately, she never would’ve progressed on to that rude shriek. Seems to me some parents work hard at making brats out of their children, they do.
The Huskeys invited us to church with them, but we had no clothes suitable for church, and after a hot, windy day of driving, we were feeling somewhat bedraggled. Also, we’d had no supper yet, so we declined. While we were there, we watched a scissor-tailed flycatcher, Oklahoma’s state bird, eating mulberries from a nearby tree, and a mother robin feeding them to her babies. The sun went down in a hazy mist caused by the fires in Mexico.
Victoria said,
-->“Eyes! Doo bight!” (Too bright.)
Just before Mrs. Huskey and the children returned from their church service, Caleb wound up from the shoelaces and let fly with a baseball--but balls thrown from the hand of a four-year-old do not always travel in the expected direction. This one hit poor Lydia right below the eye, giving her a real shiner. Her eye is still discolored, although it looks considerably better today than it did yesterday. There is quite a bump on her cheekbone; I sure hope it heals okay.
We were finally loaded and ready to go by 9:30 p.m., and everybody was starving. The Huskeys invited us for supper, but I don’t think all of us could’ve fit into their trailer! Anyway, I had supper made; I just needed to warm it up. So we went to Guthrie’s city park, where there was a very nice lighted pavilion with picnic tables in it.
Done with supper, we headed for the interstate and looked for signs for campgrounds. What luck!--we found one, only a few miles down the road--and it was several miles off the highway in a pretty wooded area beside a big lake. We pulled in.
“Don’t you think you should stop here and walk in, to see if there’s a place big enough for us to turn around, and to see if there are any shower rooms?” I asked.
Larry shrugged cheerfully. “Naa,” he responded, “the road’s fine.”
I remained skeptical. But we continued blithely on.
The road was a one-lane, curving blacktop, with ditches on either side. The lanes leading down to the lake and the camping sites were gravel or dirt, narrow and curving between tall trees, with deep culverts on either side. There were a few long trailers camped amongst the oaks and pines, but none could hold a candle, length-wise, to us. My concern grew.
After two or three miles of driving, the blacktop turned to dirt, with a giant mudhole stretching on endlessly directly ahead of us.
We halted and commenced to backing.
Larry, being of an optimistic nature, and not one to back along slowly for any length of time when he could do a simple (?) thing like turn around, hopped out and went back to survey one of those graveled lanes, hoping to back the trailer into it and turn around. I said we’d never make it.
He began backing.
Back and forth we jigsawed, with Keith at the rear shining a flashlight, running forward to tell us just how close we were to the ditches, and with Larry sometimes going back to look for himself. I kept track of the ditches beside and in front of us, where Larry kept threatening to drop the front tires. At one point, the pickup and trailer were just about at opposites, one on either side of an immense cavern. Now, exactly how do you get out of that kind of a predicament??
Eventually, we were almost in a position to pull back onto the road, facing back the way we’d come. We’d long since put the pickup into 4-low, because the driveway into which we’d backed sloped down, and the rear pickup tires were on wet grass, and there were large lumps and bumps in front of the trailer tires. Larry didn’t want the trailer tires to come closer than two feet to the culvert, because the edge was only dirt, and he was afraid the weight of the trailer would make the road give way.
Suddenly Keith yelled, “STOP!”
We were only a foot and a half from the edge.
Larry went to look at the scene. Striding back to the pickup then, he got a determined look on his face, put ’er into first gear, stepped down on the throttle, and let out the clutch.
We went.
And the trailer came.
Whew. We were out of there.
But where was Keith? I expected him to come along beside the pickup and climb back into the door from which he’d exited; but he didn’t show up, and he’d disappeared from the mirror’s range of view.
My heart stopped. About the time I’d come to the absolute conviction that he’d slipped and gotten himself run over back there, he cut between trailer and crewcab, walked along the side of the pickup, and got in.
I tell you, by the time that adventure was done with, my hands were trembling, my heart was pounding, and Hannah’s asthma was protesting its alarm.
Furthermore, if any of those campers had been of the mind that they’d have a quiet, uninterrupted night there in those remote woods beside a calm lake, we certainly disabused them of that mistaken notion. Good grief.
I think Larry wasn’t quite so calm inside as his demeanor might make you think; we’d no sooner gotten back to the interstate, than he exited on the next off ramp. I thought he was heading for an RV camp nearby.
Wrong. He was heading for a Best Western motel. We rented two rooms: $82. Compare that to the $9 we’d spent the night before! Oh, well; the bed was more comfortable. (I’d accused Larry, the previous night, of laying my side of the sleeping bag down directly over the Alaskan pipeline. We never figured out just what that long lump in the ground was; we forgot to look the next morning after we took the tent down. A root, probably.) (Larry, rather than deny he’d done the deed on purpose, told me he’d put the sleeping bag there so I’d have to cuddle up closer to him.) (I pulled his ear.)
At a gas station where we stopped, I found a pair of sunglasses in the rest room. I knew there were no women in the store, and, since there was no town at this exit, I figured that the person to whom they belonged was long gone. I decided Lydia needed them, since her eye was hurting, especially when the sun shined in her face and made her squint. So I carefully bent them smaller.
“Mercy!” I said to Lydia, “the lady these belonged to sure had a large head!”
The door opened, and a lady with a large head (in fact, she had a large everything) walked in. Her eyes immediately fell upon the sunglasses I was now holding in my hand.
Uh-oh, says me to meself, me says.
I smiled politely at the woman. “Are you looking for these?” I asked, extending them.
She sighed in relief, took them, and gave me a big, friendly grin. “Oh, thank you, thank you!!” she exclaimed, gazing fondly down upon the lost-but-now-found spectacles.
I smiled again and rushed out the door. “Hurry!” I hissed to Lydia, “before she tries them on, discovers I’ve bent them all up, and comes out here and sits on me!”
“Hee hee hee!” giggled Lydia, tripping gaily along beside me.
I hastily grabbed a jar of baby food out of my purse, popped the lid off, and stuck it in the microwave. When I thought it was warm enough, I jerked it out and scurried down the aisle to find Larry, who was pouring himself some cappuccino.
“Come quick,” I admonished him. “I’ve been demolishing other people’s property, and I’ve got to go on the lam!”
He gazed at me blankly, wondering what in the world I was going on about now. I hooked a finger through one of his belt loops and pulled.
“Come on!”
He came.
Then I remembered that there was one more jar of baby food in my purse that I should warm up, so I dashed back to the microwave--and discovered I’d forgotten to turn the dumb thing off after I’d removed the last jar of baby food! Oh, heavens to Betsy. It was one of those idiot ovens that, as long as the timer is set, it goes, if the door is shut.
I hurriedly warmed the other jar and fled for my life. Microwaves don’t do well, warming their own interiors, and nothing else. So here I’d ruined a perfectly nice lady’s sunglasses; next, I’d tried to destroy the station’s microwave! Out the door and to the pickup I hastened, where I put on my own sunglasses, and wished I had a fake nose to go with it. Maybe even a mustache. I slid down low in my seat, and never looked back.
One of the stations we stopped at had a souvenir shop in it, so I got Bobby and Keith graduation presents: pictures of mallards (for Bobby) and Canada geese (for Keith). The entire picture, including cattails, river reeds, and all, is made of bird feathers. The birds are tiny and delicate, and accurate to perfection. I also got Hester and Lydia small feather pictures, one of eastern bluebirds, the other of mountain bluebirds. These were early birthday presents.
At one of the rest areas where we stopped, the children picked sloes (wild plums). Today I made a big pot of jelly. Before it set up, we poured it over chocolate chip ice cream. Yummy! This was at a rest area in Kansas, where we ate supper Thursday evening. It was just a little tree, but it was loaded with fruit.
In Wichita, there is an overpass, the main interstate, that goes on for miles. In the center is a canal, with many bridges over it.
Caleb remarked, “I like all these stacks of bridges!”
As we were coming through northern Kansas and southern Nebraska on our way home, there were bad thunderstorms with big hail on both the east and on the west; but we made it safely between the storms with nary a drop of rain hitting us. We certainly didn’t want that new pickup getting hail dents all over it!
Friday, Larry, with Teddy’s help, got the pickups off his slant trailer, an altogetherly hair-raising venture. Since his forklift isn’t nearly as big as Huskeys’, he first had to put a set of good axles and wheels under the red pickup; next, Teddy lifted the front end with the forklift while Larry drove the trailer out from underneath it. That is, he drove the crewcab, which was pulling the trailer. To get the burned pickup off, he put tires on it and rolled it down the trailer, guiding it with his loader. The white one also required a tire, and needed its bumper and fender pulled out; then Teddy climbed into it and steered it as it rolled down. It wasn’t coming just the best, because a tire was rubbing on something; so Larry pulled it toward the steeper part of the slant with the forklift. He eventually realized that it would roll even better, if Teddy would quit pushing on the brake so hard. (He’s rather timorous about heights.)
I asked Victoria if she was glad to be home. She happened to have a big mouthful of something-or-other at the moment, so she grinned at me and bobbed vigorously up and down--she was doing the ‘jiggety-jigs’ to the ditty ‘Home Again, Home Again’, silly baby.
Annette’s father was in Chicago last week, helping the elderly mother of some relatives move here. They had loaded two big trailers with the last of her belongings, and were on the western outskirts of Chicago on a six-lane highway when a lady swerved directly in front of Delmar (Annette’s father)--and then slammed on the brakes. Delmar tried to stop, veering to the side, but wound up hitting her back fender; this caused him to hit Arthur (Larry's cousin), who was driving his pickup and trailer in the next lane. They wound up in the ditch, but the amazing thing was that nobody at all was hurt, especially considering that Mrs. Cunningham, the lady who was moving, and several others were following in a nearby lane in a another vehicle, with cars and trucks all around going fast.
Arthur’s pickup was still driveable, but Delmar’s was not. So one of Annette’s brothers borrowed Larry’s white flatbed trailer and went to get his father, taking another pickup on the trailer with which to bring the trailer full of Mrs. Cunningham’s belongings home.
Friday night we took the big pickup to the carwash, where Teddy found a stack of eight quarters. He was promptly beside my window, where I was sitting holding Victoria, Caleb beside me; and he was jumping up and down, lifting his knees high, making a wide sappy grin, and waving both arms, just as he used to entertain Hester and Lydia when he’d find coins in those vehicles we used to retrieve from Kearney for Lincoln Auto. He can be such a goof. Of course Caleb and Victoria thought he was hilarious. A few minutes later, he found a huge, colorful sphinx moth, which he brought home to show the rest of the kids before releasing it on our front porch amongst the flowers.
Lydia likes to read to Caleb. She easily reads books meant for fourth or fifth-graders, and her soft voice lilts along with vivacity and expression, too. Every now and then, she pauses to sound out a word, whereupon Caleb promptly inserts whatever word he thinks would best go there, making Lydia giggle.
The grass clippings I put on my flower beds a couple of weeks ago had bird seed in it. Guess what. It sprouted. Imagine my dismay when I discovered that the very first lilies of the valley I’d ever planted that had ever grown well (and they’re supposed to be so hardy!) were being completely smothered in bird seed sprouts! Aaaarrrggghhh.
Hannah’s Fourth-of-July dress is all done, and I’ve started on Victoria’s.
Today my Uncle Howard and Aunt Evelyn came to visit. They live in Rogers, Arkansas, and Uncle Howard is my mother’s youngest brother. We’ve just come back from my mother’s house, where several of the family went to see them.
Teddy is copying disks on our computer, disks which Bobby’s brother Jonathan loaned him. I see that he’s now found the “Oregon Trail” game, so the copying has come grinding to a halt.
Victoria is dreamily rocking her baby, her favorite blankie lopped over her shoulder, her thumb in her mouth. Her big brown eyes are growing larger and larger, and she’s tilting farther and farther to one side, and--adhjkfg;ajg;qz
Whew! I just barely caught her! Time to put a sleepy baby to bed.
Dorcas is reading a Janette Oke book; Hannah is crocheting on a quilt-block afghan of soft, thick, fuzzy ivory yarn; Keith has already hit the hay, since he has to be to work at 6:30; Larry is putting Caleb’s pajamas on him; Joseph is making a sauna out of our shower; Lydia is crocheting tiny belts for tiny stuffed animals (she can only do a chain stitch); Hester is crocheting a blue potholder; and I’m going to put my new pictures in my album.
And now that you’ve read your novel for the week, you can continue with your own business.
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