This morning when I woke up way earlier than I wanted to, my sister had already baked biscuits. I’m not a good biscuit maker; in our house, Tom bakes the best biscuits. However, only my sister makes biscuits that can compare to my mother’s, so waking up to them is a wonderful event.
On these biscuits, I used almost the last of my Amana, Iowa, strawberry rhubarb preserves that Lisa sent me. In honor of that deliciousness, I had my coffee in a mug she brought with her in February:
The Midwest, via Lisa and Debby, has been very good to me today. I’m not sure any of that can compare, however, to what has to be my all-time favorite text message that I received while driving through West U last night:
From: Timothy
Rex’s ass exploded.
8:04 pm 3/19/08
Bet nobody else got one of those.
No, can’t say that I have, but it was nice of him to give you a head’s up.
Assplosions … never good.
Was the explosion bright pink? With flecks of green coconut?
I guess Rex won’t need another enema for a while.
It’s approaching rhubarb season again! I’ll be able to send you some fresh stuff when I start to see it.
mmmmmm…homemade biscuits…
ewwww….assplosion….
I used that mug!
Poor Rex…what ARE you feeding that dog?
You get the best text messages. I’m almost a little jealous. Then I think about it, and no. I’m really not. Except about the biscuits. I am jealous of the biscuity goodness you guys had!