Dirty bathmats be damned.
Last night Randy eyed me over the paper.
"Business is slow," he announced. "You know what I think we should do tomorrow?"
"Take you to get a colonoscopy and a prostate exam?" If I'm marrying the man, I'm damn sure going to keep the warranty active.
"Close," he said. "They're opening Horseshoe Dam and pouring water into the Verde River. We should drive up and see it."
Randy wisely tries to spring these outdoor rambling excursions on me with little or no notice, as I tend to uncontrollably manifest imaginary obligations in my ensuing panic. It was late, though, and I was in weak form; "But I have to wash the bathmats," was the best I could come up with and
that wasn't fooling anybody. We don't even
have bathmats. I don't think.
So we went to Horseshoe Lake, home of the Horseshoe Dam. Click on the picture for the whole detailed stream.
