"Pack up your troubles in your old kit bag, and smile, smile, smile." (WWI marching song, 1917. The advantage of having had a father who fought in WWI.)
It was amazing how quickly my troubles, such as they are, disappeared when I got an early morning text from Dave with an invitation to meet for lunch. Count me in! I calculated time and distance carefully and was ready and raring to go so as not to be late. (He'd said "noonish.") I pulled in to Bones parking lot at 12:08...and no Dave. Hmmm. Just one problem. I reread his text. In my excitement, I had inserted Bones in my mind instead of Poor Red's. Of course, there was no cell reception to let him know I was another ten minutes away. I don't think I've ever made the drive from Pleasant Valley to El Dorado faster. I even hit the four stop lights green.
Dave and Jester had ridden their motorcycles and were enjoying a cold beer while waiting for the errant mother. Poor Red's has air conditioning so we opted for an inside table rather than eating out on the patio. Good food filled my belly, but it was the company that filled my heart.
What troubles?
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