Our family has its peculiarities. My daughter Lucy, 17, is home from school for the weekend for a ski race. This morning she emerged from her bedroom sleepy-eyed in her pajamas and reported, “I had an awful nightmare. I dreamed that it rained!”
We laughed over this terrifying thought.
I told her how yesterday afternoon, watching my friend Damon operating my tractor, I’d been so thrilled to have the driveway cleaned up that I’d found myself thinking, “Happiness is a pushed-up manure pile!”
We are peculiar. Luckily we all understand each other.