This is what I saw yesterday morning as I left the house to go to the barn.
Perhaps everyone is tired of my donkey. I am as annoying, I suppose, as people that talk too much about their toddler's first steps, or new couples that put the name of their brand new boyfriend's or girlfriend's name in every sentence as if they were
all mashed together as one entity. Yuck. Sorry, but I'm just not quite done with the initial infatuation with bringing home a new farm animal. It should subside sometime, maybe. Probably not before Saturday, when Pino will attend a birthday party down the road for a five year old friend, who doesn't know he's coming yet. We will have to leave plenty early to get there on time, as Pino walks......v...e..r....y.....slllloooowwwllllllllyyyyy.
As with all my past August's, I am thinking on low drive, in little spurts, writing in chops, not as fluid as usual. I see things and I want to remember them, or honor them but since I'm trying not to paint this month, I write a note, or take photos. For example, this morning Martyn appeared in front of me in this outfit. Yes, I am married to Christopher Robin. This outfit is almost as good as his rubber suit, but perhaps even more endearing. I complimented him on his attire, and as he walked out the door, he said, "I picked it out my ownself"...
