Hungry

George really is the sweetest thing.  My dad thinks it's annoying that someone so bratty ended up with someone like George.  I see where he's coming from; the truth is I never had to learn all the things he thought I would, like how to be nice.
On Sundays this month, I play for a church service in the morning and then take a 50 minute drive into Wimberley to play for the pre-show of Shakespeare's The Merry Wives of Windsor.  The day started with George driving me to the church even though he didn't need to be out.  While I played, he went to Central Market to buy me all the fruits I had been talking about: peaches, apples, pears, and cherries.  He came to pick me up bringing a breakfast taco from my favorite place.  Even so, he came in for the potluck luncheon at my request and dropped a donation in the bucket for the both of us.  I ate two heaping plates to the amusement of those around me.
As George drove me into Wimberley, I talked his ear off about the cravings I had been dreaming about during the sermon, like macaroni and cheese, lasagne, queso, and pizza.  Always supportive, he sat backstage next to the piano at the playhouse.  While he listened, he secretly ordered tickets for us to see the only movie I'm interested in, Brave, at the Alamo Drafthouse that evening.  On our way back into Austin, he surprised me by pulling into the frozen yogurt stand I had been wanting to try.  After that, he took me to Barton Springs for a refreshing swim, even though he had to wear a shirt in the water to protect his healing tattoo from the sun.  Then he told me how beautiful he thinks I am (maybe a thousand times) and took me out to the movies.  And what did he order for us?  Fries with queso and green chile mac & cheese.