On our honeymoon, we were almost attacked by a shark. See photo.
But that's easy compared to the Monday we've had. I've had to share sad news with friends that we don't have room for them at the annual Southern Foodways Symposium. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, and I've had to do it 80 times today. I'd rather say things with a smile. Ned, meanwhile, is pricing overnight shipping for library books so he can get them back to Vanderbilt before they send out the bounty hunters.
Tomorrow, at least, will have to be better. Unless, like my Grandpa said, "Things are never so bad that they can't get worse." There's a bit of comfort in that. Oddly. Wise man, my grandpa. Photo here for reference.
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