In Spain, it stays mainly in the plain, but the rain in Virginia fell unabashedly in the city streets. But it did not deter us from our swashbuckling plans, and we stomped across the cobblestones from shop to shop paying no mind to the cold wet drops that sang “stay home you silly muggles.”
After capitalizing on my dearly paid for lifetime guarantee of naked-mole-rat-hairlessness, purchased in my flusher days, we sauntered to the cupcake shop and commandeered a Guinness-flavored treat for A. Then we dashed to the yet-unexplored storefront of Red Barn Mercantile. We wandered and marveled; I made my grown up Christmas list which included a number of fine mixers, and we bought bean his made-in-America Fourth-Day-of-Christmas present. Finally, through the puddles to the yarn store we stomped. I marveled and reveled but did not buy; it is enough to gaze at the colors and finger the fibers. At this point bean was napping and the rain was pouring so we made our way back home to the pup.