Yesterday Larry Martin called and the first word out of his mouth, "Congratulations!", caught me completely off guard.
I stammer a response.
"Uh-oh, you haven't heard yet?"
"Heard what?" I ask.
"Oh, never mind. Goodbye," he kiddingly responds. "You've been selected as Librarian of the Year".
I'm flabbergasted, never having given my nomination much of a chance. Already I'm pondering my acceptance speech. That was one of my questions for Larry. What does the awards ceremony involve?
For supper, I cook ribs on the grill, and, despite a number of pesky bees -- one of which meets its maker -- we eat on the patio.
While JoAnna and Barb (and Eddie) go shopping, Andy and I go to the park. He plays with an 8-year-old girl, a slightly plump redhead with a face from Stephen King central casting -- it's the narrow eyes -- who has must moved into the neighborhood from Milton. Back home I give Andy a bath and discover that one of my speakers is silent when I play a record.
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