Yesterday, Gentleman Caller and I took a ride out to Lake Martin. I was a bit of a grouch after finding out he'd be busy with a trip "up north" for the next 4 days. As I sat quietly in the truck and feigned interest in the mud caked on to Bruiser's side mirror, he honked his horn at everyone we passed on the gravel road and gave them names like Donna, T-Poopsie, & Earl as if they we're his long lost cousins. I gave a half smile and told him he was crazy. He repeatedly tried to poke me in the underarm as he managed to keep hold of the wheel. I giggled. He turned his mp3 player to Colt Ford and rapped along as loud as he could while snapping the straps of his camouflage over-alls. He got me. I'm still smiling at the thought of it all.
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