Franklinsanity

8:42 pm, somewhere near Fontana, KS: Ella on the stereo, Great Pyrenees barking at squirrels, Kingsley and Oonagh passed out.

I am slowly assimilating a serious dinner of BBQ chicken, potato-egg salad, rice and watermelon, lubricated by a lot of wine and beer in the bar(n), beforehand.

(I did mention that at this B&B, they’ve turned a working barn partly into a bar?)

Nothing works up an appetite like playing darts with a 5 and 7 year old, in a barn.  What could go wrong?

Teddy won.  I am pretty sure we were scoring wrong, although Ted’s arithmetic was far better than mine.

Kudos to Awesome Wife for a) chilling while her children and husband played with sharp objects, surrounded by large animals, nails, splinters and other opportunities for death and dismemberment; and b) generously drinking the last of the Sauvingnon Blanc, including my glass, while I wasn’t looking.

Thanks to the B&B owners for comforting me with Chardonnay.

It’s cold comfort, but I never look a gift horse in the mouth.  I actually never look a horse in the mouth, period.