Drinking beer with Bill

I went outside this morning to work with forms and got them away from the slab, then came inside to cool off. I was weak as a damned kitten from the poisioning yesterday. Milady told me that Bill is in town on his annual pilgramige and that he and his lady would be over for lunch. Bill is Milady's older brother. They live in Florida and come in once a year to pester people. Milady was putting on the full treatment for lunch, as good Southern ladies are apt to do when their big brother visits. The menu was a roast, potatoes, fresh lima beans, creamed corn, field peas, cornbread, and copious amounts of sweet tea. I'm going to be eating leftovers for two or three days.

I decided that the thing to do was to get some beer and hang out with Bill all afternoon. Bill lives in Pompano Beach. We only see him once a year. I like Bill. He's as full of sh*t as a christmas goose. So, this afternoon, I hung out with Bill, drinking beer and telling lies. We talked about golf, baseball, politics, cubans, vehicle registration, all-you-can-eat buffets, tractor tires, forklifts, soccer, and wimmen. They just left, heading to Jena. Bill wants a good night's sleep tonight, and he claims it is easy to get to bed early in Jena.

We'll see them again on Saturday. Milady's momma is celebrating her 75th birthday and the family, the extended family, is meeting at brother Harold's in New Roads. We intend to invade Harold, drink all his beer, eat all his barbeque, tell stories on one another, and generally make a nuisance of ourself. Then Bill heads back toward Florida, scattering confusion and wreckage in his wake.

After doing nothing this afternoon, I feel a whole lot better. The tractor still needs a battery. And a tire. I'll worry about that tomorrow.