(Walker is my nine-going-on-forty year old muse. She keeps me firmly upward, skimming the top of life’s floatsam….)
Walker. We ARE are taking the convertible for the trip?
Me. Yes. Party! Woo hoo!
Walker: So…if it’s warm we can put down the top?
Me: Yeah!
Walker: But…that’s not going to happen is it?
Me. (Kinda dejected) No. Probably not.
*****
Walker says that if I was a sea turtle I would try to cuddle with a predatory raccoon.
I said that she needed to stop taunting my lack of directional skill.
Walker said that she was like me directionally. Challenged.
I read all of this back to her for accuracy (like I do) and she said, “I’m just going to give you some creative license here, Mama.”
