Last night I went to bed around 2:30 am, still excited about the babies. I was laying next to my husband in a dark bedroom, making up names aloud from the breeds the babies are part of (Saanen, Angora, Alpine and Toggenburg). I ended on Saangora and Alpanburg. My husband took a deep, sleepy breath (I was waking him up), and said, "How about just Sonny and Al." He didn't remember saying that in the morning.
In the morning, we mulled over other names with our coffee...Stewart and McGregor; Earl and Charlie (my two great uncles who farmed this farm before I was born); someone in chat room suggested marsiedoes and dosiedoes; someone else suggested roast and chops....
We figured the ghosts of Earl and Charlie might not be pleased, and we didn't want to offend them. The Stewart and McGregor clans might not be enthralled, although Scots do have a sense of humor. Sonny and Al stuck. So it is.
Ahhhh, finally, I finished my last day of work on a 6-day stretch. My daughter ate all the microwave popcorn, so I popped some from a bag in my freezer on the stove. Like the 70's. We used to pop corn on Saturday night, and watch Hee Haw or Lawrence Welk, and then Emergency. On rare occaisions, we'd pop a whole brown paper bag full, and go to a drive-in movie.
Kids these days don't know about stove-top popcorn. I am a popcorn pig.
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