It is frickin hot here at Magnolia Farm, kiddies; so hot I hallucinated under my San Diego Hat Co. wide brim as I attempted to double dig some new beds at 11am the other day. I must've been a sight, sweat dripping from my chin in the shadeless field, panting, cussing, talking to people that were not there as heat exhaustion began to set in. Such a sight, in fact, that it compelled my six year old son to retreat to the house to fetch a huge glass of ice water without the slightest hint from me.
"Are you mad?" Lucian asked in his hoarse little man voice.
"Do I seem mad?" I threw back as I chugged the water.
"Well, your face looks kinda like [scowls, furrows tiny brow]..like this."
"Oh. I'm not mad, sweetie! I hadn't even noticed till you said something." I claimed ignorance.
"Well, could you please, like, soften your face down? And maybe smile with your mouth a little?"
He paused. I stared at him, almost empty glass in my hand. What does he want me to-Oh! I got it.. he was waiting for me to, like, soften my face now.
And so I did. And he smiled at his good work on my face. And I smiled all on my own at some point there.
