A few of us got up early today for a small entrepreneurial project undertaken by Lala and her friend. Everybody pitched in to set up in front of a kindly neighbour's house.
There were big fella's. "I dub thee Sir Lemonlot. Arise!"
Positions were assumed in preparation for a stampede of lemonade quaffing locals. Hello...?
Waiting for the first 50c involved some quality control.
Just when we thought they'd be lucky to split 25c for the day, a couple of groovy young lads turned up and even gave them tips! Then another car! Hurry girls! It's rush hour!
Between customers there was discussion of product placement and yoga moves.
Suddenly it was the hoi polloi of Brisbania rolling up in character cars on their Sunday drives. If the girls didn't make a dime it was worth it to see the smiles and waves and beeps from the passers by. The lairy godmother was on stand-by for PR and damage control.
We are obliged not to discuss the following customer's identity lest it reveal her whereabouts. I can, however, share with local readers that she had a lovely russet tone to her coif and was going to an Abbot and Costello carnival.
"Don't worry. I believe I have nailed the necessary sales technique demonstrated previously. Watch me work the tutu."
Yellow sunglasses- so lemony, so chic. I tell you, these befit so many occasions.
After the last lemons were squeezed and the tablecloth rolled up, look what followed us home. "Hello, I love you. Won't you tell me my name."
Yellow sunglasses- so lemony, so chic. I tell you, these befit so many occasions.
After the last lemons were squeezed and the tablecloth rolled up, look what followed us home. "Hello, I love you. Won't you tell me my name."
She promptly made herself at home in a freshly built garden. (Sometimes when we come home things like this have just mysteriously appeared.) She hung around the big fella and I think he was almost coming around to Dog Boy Fishy's pleas of "Can we keep her, please,"......
...when this happened! Barking, squawking, big fella yelling and a man outside whistling for his lost dog. Serena and Venus seem to be from some athletic Masai chicken origin and ALWAYS jump the net. Those are some drumsticks you have there ladies. The one who wrangled the dog is fine but wishes to publicly apologise for her foolishness and hopes she will be less inclined to fly the coop next time.
Then the prodigal 12 year olds returned having apparently missed the only excitement ever to have happened here in their entire lives whilst they were away on a double sleepover. It's no fatted calf boys but it's your favourite.
...when this happened! Barking, squawking, big fella yelling and a man outside whistling for his lost dog. Serena and Venus seem to be from some athletic Masai chicken origin and ALWAYS jump the net. Those are some drumsticks you have there ladies. The one who wrangled the dog is fine but wishes to publicly apologise for her foolishness and hopes she will be less inclined to fly the coop next time.
Then the prodigal 12 year olds returned having apparently missed the only excitement ever to have happened here in their entire lives whilst they were away on a double sleepover. It's no fatted calf boys but it's your favourite.
Spag bog and Lairy Lemonade recipes to follow if you are so inclined. Masterchef we aint!
