This is the big 25 for Farmer H and me. Uh huh. Our 25th wedding anniversary. We are having a night on the town, with The Pony, of course. We’re going out for a steak dinner. That’s pretty much it. Let the record show that Farmer H gave me a card and two boxes of candy. I gave him a card and two no-sugar-added mini pies. Yep. We’re true romantics.
Tomorrow, Farmer H has scheduled a check-up for T-Hoe. That means we will follow him to town, where he will leave his Pacifica and get in with us for the ride to school, then he’ll drive T-Hoe back to get his tire fixed, and oil changed, and an exam to see what is making that roaring noise in a tire. If T-Hoe isn’t ready to roll, Farmer H will pick us up in his Pacifica or the $1000 Caravan or his Ford F250 Long Bed Club Cab, but not in his 1980 copper-colored Olds Toronado with the spoke wheels.
Today, he has taken my mom to her doctor appointment in the city. I guess I can forgive him for thumping me in the head a couple nights ago, seeing as how he’s using a vacation week to do all this stuff.
I’m sure Farmer H would rather have monetary compensation, rather than forgiveness.