It's a gorgeous day here in Smallville. Just last Sunday it was raining and sleeting and they were talking snow--which never happened.
This Sunday it's going to be 82-degrees, clear skies, beautiful breezes. It's the perfect day to clean up the yard, clear away the last bits of the tree that fell a month or so ago; bag up some more leaves; do some pruning.
Screw that! We're going to brunch!
Our friends Roger and Thomas are members of a private club here in Smallville; they joined because the club--called HuffawFawFaw Hall--has private cabins, and when they have out-of-town guests, their friends can stay at the HuffawFawFaw with their pets.
But the HuffawFawFaw also has a really great brunch and we've been invited, so we're doing that instead of yardwork. I mean, yardwork, champagne? It's a no-brainer.
One rule of the HuffawFawFaw Hall is that men must wear a jacket-and-tie. Apparently it's like Somewhere In Time over there and there are strict dress codes. I'm putting a 2009 penny in my pocket so I can get home later--that's a Somewhere In Time reference for those who haven't seen the film. But see it; Christopher Reeve and Jane Seymour; quite romantic.
So, Carlos and I decided to have a light breakfast of toast, juice and coffee this morning because we're meeting the fellas at around noon for our trip through time. And I'm looking at the t-shirt Carlos wore to bed last night. There's a piece of tissue hanging on it, and I'm just about to tell him, when I realize it's not a tissue or piece of paper.
It's a Breathe Right Strip. He has been doing the snore more lately so he's taken to wearing one--to strapping it on, as he says.
But, as I say to him trying not to spew juice all over, you need to strap it on your nose and not your elbow.
I laughed so hard I scared the dog!