There's a knock at the door and it's a woman with a baby. At first I didn't recognize her but than realized it was the wife of the Greeter from Little Iran. She wanted to show me her baby born eight days earlier. Cute little bugger, and I told her so and how nice the kid look, of course they all look strange at that age but it wasn't until I shut the door and got over the shock that she had a baby when I realized that at no time did I see her pregnant.
I saw her a few weeks ago, she was thin, not puffed out with a belly full of baby and now there is this full set of hair kid in her arms. How did she do it? I think the rug-rat she's showing to the neighbors is to make everyone think she has been pregnant. She wasn't anymore pregnant than I am. In fact, I look more pregnant than she ever did, if she was pregnant. It's a boy. A kidnapped boy who, I'm sure, will be trained in Jihad.
Golden Boy is preparing to move in. His room is ready anytime he is, and he said he would put the fan up tomorrow. It's a nice fan too, the old one went belly up that I installed in 85, the year of his birth. Gad, it will be like having a teenager live here and I'm thankful. The house will be full of life once again with someone to talk with, I hope.
Of course, what does an old geezer have to talk about to a young guy? Not much, I don't think but I'll think of something to say, I usually do. The room looks nice too. Navy blue with white. Got the A/C in, the closet redone for lots of clothes. He wants to bring his boyfriends over. I think it's great.
Strange about Little Iran and the baby, very,very strange.
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