bk hangs on the smoker's dock. Not that he smokes and not that they're allowed to do it on the loading dock anymore (they are now relegated to an area they refer to as "The Slope").
We have a friend who is a bit tough to describe, she's probably about 110 pounds, short and spiky red hair, heavy smoker (she rolls her own), and wears jeans so tight they look painted on. Her attitude hovers somewhere between absurd optimism and radical cynicism.
The other day they were on the slope and she turned to bk and said, "Why are you so quiet all the time? You so fucking happy you have nothing to say?"
He just smiled.
(Mentioned by way of commenting on my own silence.)
6 comments:
True story.
And yes, I am.
Work with me here, people. I need entertainment. I need solace. The Kiwi has flown and I have evenings to fill (and the Sky TV hasn't been installed yet).
I can juggle. (Not very well, though.)
I can't imagine the South Island without the Kiwi. I wish you deep restful sleep and an early reunion.
Give her my best.
p.s. Are you planning any surprises for her? It's just us! Talk away!
Not really any surprises. We decided to celebrate the Kiwi's 50th by (did I mention that she turned 50 yesterday?) spending Easter weekend in Queenstown. The leaves should be pretty autumnal and there will be a chill in the air. And we can see Number 2 son while we're down there. Maybe I'll arrange a wine tasting afternoon...now there's a thought. But shhhh!!!
bk and I are so stoked about coming to visit (2010?). I told him that the Kiwi will be personally mortified if we don't enjoy every single second of our trip.
Are you going to stay in the same place that you recommended to Susan and me? That was really wonderful.
Enjoy!
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