Porches

My friend Brad came over last night to help me move. He brought his wife, Denise, and their two kids, Faith, 4, and Luke, 2.
Faith calls me “Davefarquhar.” One word. She pronounces it right. It’s funny. I’ll see them at church, and Faith will say, “Davefarquhar, watch this!”

I guess that means I’m famous, like Raphael or Michelangelo. Or Prince.

[So what does that say about Jacques Pierre Cousteau Vermouth Bouillabaisse “Ham’n’Cheese” Croissant Rendezvous Nouveau Riche Au Jus Clousseau le Raunche de la Stenche? –R. Collins Farquhar IV] [On second thought, not everyone who uses just one name is rich and famous. Raunche’s Bentley goes out to the first caller who knows who Christophe was. –RCIV]

As they drove up to my apartment complex, Faith said, “Boy, mom, Davefarquhar has a lot of porches!”

Denise told me the story. I laughed. Then I told Faith that means I’m really rich. The more porches you have, the richer you are.

“You know she’ll run around church telling everyone that Davefarquhar is really rich,” Denise said.

But everyone else knows the truth. It’s my evil twin brother that’s really rich.

I’m back.

I just had the best week of my life. I came back to find my web server down (powered off even) and Raunche and RCIV nowhere to be found. Good thing. No idea how that happened, so I’ll be interested in their explanation (and very surprised if the stories match).
Anyway, I just took a luxurious 5-minute shower (and I left the water running the whole time–naughty me). I’ve gotta make some phone calls, then I’ll post a short story about my adventure. I doubt I’ll be talking about much else this week. Like I said, it was probably the best week of my life.

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