Mrs. Gardens

Today was the monthly meeting of the garden club and I was invited back. There was no work this time, just a fabulous luncheon to say goodbye to one of the members, who is moving to Tennessee to live next door to Keith Urban. That's what she said; what can I tell you?

In Marvin's and my interminable walks, we have gone past this elegant-looking bed and breakfast where the luncheon was held (and they DID call it a "luncheon," just like in Nancy Drew books), and I have always wanted to go in. And oh! it's divine. We ate in this sunny dining room with windows all along the back, looking out onto a beautiful fall garden in the back yard. And there was chocolate cream pie.

Plus also too, one of the members treated me to said lunch and the treasurer told me not to pay my dues till next time, so I stuck to not spending without even trying.

Everyone in garden club is so elegant and refined. I told this to my mother, and she said perhaps it'll rub off on me. I am thinking my crude personality will rub off on all of them.

Soon meetings with start out with, "It's time for the damn meetin'. I'm gettin' PISSED."

So, I guess I have officially become a nonpaying member of the Lilliput Garden Club. (I got a big charge out of myself for calling this town "Lilliput" yesterday, so it's going to be my official name for where I now live. This way I can talk freely about it without the worry of someone here Googling the real town name and finding my scandalous blog.)

In other pressing news, I went to the WalMart today and got a box of hair dye. Then I ended up being too tired to tint tonight. After a hard day of secretarying and not gardening, I was beat. So I continue to look like snow falling on red beets until tomorrow.