My dearest friend has two of these clocks -- one for her home in Little Rock, and one for their place on the Little Red River. It suits her to a tee.
It's starting to fit me, too:
Ain't it the truth!
I'm going to Book Club tonight. The assignment is yet another teenage angst novel. That's what happens when you join a Book Club full of thirty-something high school teachers and social workers -- you read a lot of teenage angst. At least there was no sex in this one. Reading about teenage sex kinda creeps me out.
Oh, well -- the wine is chilling and it'll be a fun and relaxing evening, because . . . whatever.