John Deere

This last week I spent many afternoons on the phone discussing marble choices, granite colors, and cabinetry details for the house in Georgia. On Saturday I called the marble guy to ask a question or two and although the reception was clear on my end, he had a very difficult time hearing me.

MG (marble guy): Sorry Miss Toole, but I'm at the pool and I just can't hear you that well. Can I call ya on Monday?
Me: No problem

Monday.....

MG: Sorry, Miss Toole, for not being able to talk to ya this weekend.
Me: I hope you had a good time. It is hard to imagine that you are hanging out at the pool when I am wearing three layers to a football game in forty degree weather.
MG: The pool? Oh, no! I wasn't at the pool; I was at the tractor pull down in Jessup. Those tractors can be real loud when they pull those heavy weights up them hills.

I wish I could have seen my own face at that very moment. On second thought, I am glad I didn't because I am certain a look of shock, disgust, and concern was written on every wrinkle.

Oh, heaven help me! I am moving to a county in a state where weekend entertainment includes tractors, mountains of dirt, and ear plugs. I don't know if I will survive the three years.