It was strange to me as I realized the curious situation I was in. It's been a digging day. We tilled and planted 36 square feet today. Lots of onions. Lots. I wonder if it will turn out. So there I was in my dirt covered pants and ratty old t-shirt covered in fingers prints. Then the phone rang, and I held a professional-ish conversation with someone doing and partially defending his job. It was someone who would wear a suit to the office and as I stood, then sat, with a crying baby in a messy room, I felt out of place. I tried not to laugh or cry as I imagined the man on the other end of the line and his cluelessness about the circumstances surrounding the phone call. This is my life. Nothing "professional" about me.

In other news, I overheard Rebekah and Lily have a conversation sounding something like this:
"I can play the song Daddy was playing. The one in the book with Can-Can in it. I looked at the music and it looked easy." (It's the book our Aunt plays from when she comes, the aunt who can play everything, to speed usually. The one who accompanies everyone.)
"You cannot. It's hard."
"Yes, I can. I looked at it. It looks easy."
"Well, isn't it surprising how easy the violin is?"
"The flute is easy."
Well, I not sure I would say any of it easy, but I am glad they feel that way.