Miranda is talking hilariously to Elliot, and watching a random modern western on the tele; I skilleted up some zuchini, baby bellas, and brussel sprouts for us to enjoy -- and Elliot just channeled Satan. As comforting as this is, both of us agree we need Gaby to come back from NYC already.
Young Dude: "I'm done."
Old Farmer: "You know, the thing is, living on a farm, work is never done."
(cut to super angsty look on young dudes face)
Having paid off my rent for next month finally on time, I can actually situate a vacation soon. Someone take some time off and come with me. (I love writing shit like that into a random void.)
Elliot responds to Miranda when she talks to him. IT-IS-SO-CUTE.
Got some music suggestions recently that I'm milling through, so far, this band is tickling my fancy at the mo':
Time to crack open a growler of IPA! OPA!
(PS: Check out ChristianMingle.com)
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