Mar 11, 2009 18:09
Dear Hands,
I realize that I've let the callouses from our Zoo and String Bass days get out of shape; yes, since our move to employment at Stone Mountain, I too have appreciated the lighter shovels we use in the Farmyard to clean up after the sheep & goats, and the luxury of grips on our rakes has, indeed, been lovely.
However, that garden we have in the Plantation? You know, the completely organic, entirely hand-groomed Antebellum-style garden that gets dirt under our fingernails, but also fills our belly with sweet potatoes and green beans and *drool* okra? Yeah, it won't till itself.
Worry not, dear hands, the blisters will fade, the dirt will eventually wash off, and you'll be stronger and more deftly able to handle the tools of our trade.
And perhaps I'll even put some lotion on you. If you're good.
With the greatest appreciation,
-- Arms, Elbows, and The Rest
...
Dear Voice,
Our usual laryngitis from talking to Guests seems to be blessedly absent. That said: Let's KICK IT at Karaoke tonight!
Lovingly pepped,
-- The Performer
...
Dear Head,
We're going to have to take a raincheck on that pending exhaustion and the resulting looming headache. We simply do not have the time.
I'm sure some leftover pizza will help.
Unimpressed,
-- The Brain