Disambiguate

To make unambiguous. The Deputy called me back, last night, a point of information, seemed a second meaning of Tourettes was disambiguation, which we had to think about, then rehash over scones this morning. D and I were Plumbers-For-A-Day as faucets in four places were dripping, replaced the seats in three and changed out a fourth completely, excellent problem-solving, so engrossed we were late for lunch and the very pregnant Zoe was waiting for us at the pub, tapping her foot, in that splayed-leg way expectant mothers have. The Deputy's hubby was there too, Jamie, so we took a table instead of eating at the bar, which is our habit, and the staff fawned over us. Waitresses who have had kids tend toward attentive with hugely pregnant women: the service was great, meaning gruff and sarcastic and being part of the family. Jim brought us a couple of ounces of beer to taste, to see what we thought, we did that rolling in the glass and sniffing thing, slugged it back, talked about hops. Trash day, so after we get the last faucets finished, I collect garbage from the 12 stations, bag it all in strong drum-liners and get it into the alley. We generate a lot of trash. It's like the museum needs a compost pile, but there isn't a place for one, I sometimes take garbage home, so I can recycle it, compost it, or feed it to some animal along the way. Fifteen inches of rain since May 1st, a lot of water. I have this problem with Kim's spoons: I don't want to give them away, I want them all, because they are all different, but I line up those I haven't given away and I see a pattern. Right now, on the island, I have all of the spoons (of his, that I haven't given away) lined up, eight personal spoons and one fish serving spoon (Best In Show) and it is a lovely display. My personal favorite is a full-twist cherry spoon. He fucks with quick early twists and waves and things, but there is something about the long slow twist that turns my crank. I'm glad I got out all these spoons, they make it easy for me to give away the last two, to B and Sofia, apparently simple spoons, charged with meaning. Stephanie, I had to buy these paintings, had to send them to you, Iowa, corn, this kid is great, hang the one with blue and inch or two above the stalks. Your Dad will love this. Beware the highly specific, what you think you meant, B said it best, what anyone thought they were saying, we have filters in place, very little gets by us, I found another mylar star today and I went crazy. Maybe I'm not the man for the job.