"Well, I didn't know," I replied sheepishly as I cowered in the corner with no place to hide now that the mountains of flowers and ladybugs are gone.
"You'd better get your produce straight, missy, if you ever want to come back here and feel proud of your roots," he yelled.
And then, thankfully, his battery ran out and he shut the heck up.
So now I stand corrected. This time of year it's the Orange Highway, not the Tomato Highway.
And speaking of sheep, we saw lots of them along the way, including some wood cut-out ones on a hillside. Good-for-nothing yarnless sheep...heh. Up in the wine country we saw some of these cows. I'd never seen one before, but then I don't mosey around farms much. Mr. G. thought maybe they were wearing coats of some sort until I reminded him this is the sunshine state, not northern Maine.
We stopped at a winery where Mr. G decided I should take a photo of him petting this wild boar.
But he didn't bother to read the plaque in front of the boar, so he didn't realize that stroking the snout would have brought him good luck. This meant that he was forced to suffer a hangover, followed a day later by the onset of cold symptoms--both of which could have easily been avoided had he just followed the directions.
So now we're back and I guess I should do some laundry. Then I need to figure out why, after a thorough cleaning and blessing by the kitchen gods, my refrigerator smells. But I figure I've got a couple of days to address that issue since it'll be that long before Mr. G's nose is back up to speed....
2 comments:
Belted Galoways are my favorite cows! You see them around here once in a while!
SOOOO glad you have enjoyed Homer! Hee hee hee. You are so funny.
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