by Freida Marie Crump
Greetings from Poosey.
Husband Herb came home yesterday afternoon, slammed the front door and plopped into his chair with a pronounced pout. Since it was obvious he was waiting for me to ask what was bothering him I said, “Herb, what’s bothering you?”
“Nothin’” …this is how our conversations often begin.
“Your bottom lip is sticking out so far it could hold a three inch rain.