This is last night’s entry, which I couldn’t post because I couldn’t get on the internet.
Thanks to a headache, today was not as productive as I had hoped. Still, I got some revising done and updated my one-sheets for the conference, even though I am not likely to need them. Today, after a week of asking, I finally got help with scheduling my agent appointment. This conference only gives you 10 minutes and it’s supposed to be all verbal. I’m gonna die. The only good thing is that my appointment is Saturday morning, which means I can get it out of the way and still have time to recover and get something out of the conference.
I also did school with Jasper and then buzzed all his hair off. It’s been driving us both crazy! And Walter, who had the day off, did all kinds of helpful things in the house and yard, including replacing the inside door handle on the passenger side of the car. The driver’s side handle has had to be replaced multiple times, but the one on the passenger side broke off for the first time several months ago. This meant that if you were sitting in that seat, you either had to wait for someone to open the door from the outside, or roll the window down so you could do it yourself. How luxurious to have a handle again!
This afternoon I took Lucy on a quick errand and then Jasper and I went to a bee keepers meeting. This is a new one that has started up just a ten-minute drive from our house. We sat near the back, where I could quietly knit during the meeting. Soon a rather garrulous and very Texan young man sat down beside Jasper. He joked and chatted with Jasper, telling him that he was going to nominate Jasper to be president of this new bee keepers club.
They were getting along famously until the man asked the question. The question he asked is, “What’s your favorite football team?” I cringed, because I knew it was not going to end well. “Do you mean American football or soccer?” asked Jasper politely. “Real football,” said the man. “Not that sissy soccer game.” Poor Jasper dug himself in even deeper. “I don’t know. I’ve never even seen a football game.” The man was literally speechless. No doubt he wondered if he had somehow been magically transported away from the state of Texas. What kind of Texas boy would grow up without even watching a single football game? I was just grateful that no occasion arose wherein I’d have to admit that I not only raised a boy who doesn’t know a thing about football, but I also don’t drink iced tea or carry a huge handbag!