It’s Saturday night. We are sitting on the floor instead of the couch, eating popcorn & peanut butter cups & chips & queso, and laughing/quoting along with The Emperor’s New Groove. Our socks are striped & argyle and before us there is an excessive spread of pumpkins and gourds.
I pushed the wheelbarrow on the way out to the pumpkin patch because I have always loved wheelbarrows (Dad made me a little red one so I could garden with him when I was little), and Skip pushed it on the way back, because it was very, very, very heavy. In between, Val posed with our haul:
At times like these I wonder if we are making up for those dark years before we were friends. Back when one of us preferred bells on their shoes, another enjoyed hanging out in the dryer, and the other had a small red wheelbarrow but otherwise was completely normal and boring.
I’m thankful for my friends. Especially the ones who are so much fun and plenty silly, enjoy playing games with me, bring me toys (like giant slinkies!), accompany me on adventures and
eatings outings, and make me laugh. I call them: Best Friends for Frances.