We hit the ferry jackpot when we drove onto the inter-island. It had been a year since we got to park in the front of the vessel. Our girls clapped, Luke and I high-fived. Oh, the simple pleasures in life.
There’s not much separating car from current; luckily the Saturday sloop race provided a nice focal point.
In the island classifieds my thrifty husband found a free truck camper that came with a $400 truck that didn’t run. Or wait, was it a $400 truck camper that, with purchase, came with a free truck that didn’t run? The ad said, small amount of water damage on older but nice pop-up camper. Heater works. Truck needs work – doesn’t run.. The ad neglected to mention the mold palace interior and giant roof hole. The girls thought it was lovely.
All it needs is Oxyclean, Mommy. And we can paint it red with giant flames and maybe a portrait of Princess Jasmine on the side, says Betty.
And I can play in that truck! What do you mean it’s free! I’ll fix it with my tools. Daddy can help, exclaims Lucy.
It seems as though the girls have a soft spot for wounded yard vehicles, just like Daddy. Awesome. Without a doubt, I know Luke could fix it. We just didn’t need project #893 to topple our list. So, we drove away. Olive sobbed hysterically and I blamed her empty tummy, full diap-y.
I know our dream ski bum truck camper is out there. It helped the broken hearts when I repeated this belief to Luke, to the skiing sisters.
From Farmer Rex we heard about sheep, mid-labor, who lose their baby’s eyes to hovering and hungry ravens. The girls still want me to retell the newborn-baby-raven-sheep-eyeball-pecking story with all the missing details their minds have filled in.
I learned the best sister-kisses come when no one knows I’m watching.