Like all things the weekend flew by without so much as a “by your leave”.
Over a dinner of rattlesnake ribs and sirloin steak my little sister, B, dressed in cowgirl boots, worn out jeans, and a button down shirt decided to be the new Walker, Texas Ranger… actually she was wearing her cowgirl pajamas probably cause she got some small vermin’s blood on her jeans after shooting it with her Red Rider shotgun. C, on the other hand, was thoroughly disgusted at the thought of even touching the bowl the rattlesnake was in and kept saying that she could not wait to move to the city.
Isn’t dinner at your house the same way? My poor readers, if you even knew half of the shenanigans that occur during dinner at our house you would probably have brain failure caused by sensory overload in your prefontal cortex. Don’t be impressed I looked it up on Wikipedia.