|Gus, "I mean, what are ya gonna do next!?"|
|Gus, "No, really, hoomin - what are ya gonna do!?"|
We're still trying to loaf and chill. We'll; the hoomin is "trying." We don't try - we do! His poor noggin is troubled, though. What do you do when every dinner salad is a special dinner salad? I mean, how do you up-feast a feast like ours? Candles? Violins? Belleh dancers? International Space Station grown greens?
Well, maybe he could grow things in the backyard. But, raspberries grow very poorly in this climate zone.
I guess he'll give it a go tonight again, but I won't hold my breath.
We'll keep you posted,
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