one more stamp of approval in the bag

So I had a lovely time with Amber and Brandy this past weekend. We pretty much parked our butts around the kitchen counter and talked about everything under the sun for two days. In between chats we went on a field trip to the farm. It was a good way to break up the day. I got to introduce Amber to my farm hunny and we took a tour of his house and then all piled in his truck for a tour of the farm. It was very educational, the girls had lots of questions, Will answered them all very eloquently and I sat quietly and eating it all up. I was so pleased to see them all engaging in steady convo that I barely spoke. The dude has got some knowledge packed nicely in his head, and when he talks he’s like Good Will Farming…ha how you like them apples?? We learned about heifers and cows, their uteruses and the fact that they have four stomachs. We learned the reason behind the dead vultures hanging from the trees acting as scare crows and why you need to have a permit to have an effigy. Oh and I learned a new word...effigy. We learned what chewing cud means and that there are poisonous trees that that the cows need not eat. I learned not to touch a "hot" fence and well no explanation needed besides: No touch Stephanie, hot, no no. We went back to the house after we concluded the informative trail of cow patties and Will, staying true to form, gave all of his groceries away. Freshly slaughtered sausage, summer sausage and pork chops all around. I think Amber scored some BBQ sauce too. Every time I leave Will’s I am leaving with some sort of meat to give away to someone else.

Well now I have been cleaning all evening getting ready for date night. Will is coming over tomorrow and I am cooking the pork chops he gave me. I think I have cooked pork chops once before, shouldn't be a problem. I spent my lunch break trying to get a TN driver’s license, I figure after a year and a half its time. Those bastards want me to produce a birth certificate. Birth Certificate? Can't you see that I am alive and well, that have a GA Driver’s license and speak English? Give me my license! You know I don't keep up with things of that nature! I think that last time I saw my birth certificate was under the tennis ball hopper in the garage of the town home I used to live in with Gary eight years ago. I guess I should probably assume it’s not there anymore, call California and have them ship me one out.