I call my father to tell him my amusement at reporting the 44 cents I received from Walmart stock this year, my amusement at owning any Walmart stock whatsoever. Stock still under custody of my father, and I am twenty-five.
I remind him that he gave me a gun for my sixteenth birthday.
He tells me that he has planted a garden. I exclaim, oh, your liberty garden! He tells me that he has hired a landscaper to plant a garden for him, and a plumber to create an automated sprinkler system.
Quothe he: I cannot possibly mess this up.
Quothe he: I just want to muck around in it.
He says that he is trapping raccoons all week, and freeing them far away from his liberty garden. I ask him, do you expect to catch them all?
He says, enough.
He had thirty people over for brunch this morning and he made grits: Not cheese grits, but brie grits.
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