OK. This NaBloPoMo is fun, but it's getting to where I don't know what to post anymore. I remember way back in my jail employment days someone passed out this fictitious letter from a kid to his parents while he was at camp; he goes on to say that the camp leader was on parole and it went on from there. Pretty sick humor, but you've got to understand that after you have worked at a jail for any length of time your humor starts to really warp; like really, REALLY badly. Anyone who's worked there can testify to that.
But I won't look it up and post it because I don't want to freak anyone out.
So for this letter I will say that this AM hubby got out the tiller and tilled up the garden beds. Then we planted our onions, 2 kinds of radishes and ummm...3 kinds of lettuce I believe.