That's the local price of gas now!! Who would have thunk it!
On a totally different note:
Upon reading my MIL's blog today, which described the wonders of an old-fashioned childhood Thanksgiving, I had to grin. We spent Thanksgiving, as you know, on a farm in West Virginia, with milk from the cow and eggs from the chicken. As a matter of fact, on our last morning there, we were waiting on the chickens.
Anne made her fabulous Belgian waffles for breakfast. Now, my daddy likes an egg for breakfast, but I believe all the eggs had been used that morning for the waffles for the crowd. I'd been out to the chicken house the previous morning (I like to collect the eggs) and the obliging chickens had placed all 6 eggs in one nest. For a chilly November, 6 eggs isn't too shabby.
But this last morning, Daddy needed an egg. Max went out and checked. No eggs yet that morning. It usually isn't until after 10:00 that the eggs are available and the chickens have left their roosts. But Max said there was one uncomfortable-looking chicken, grumpily sitting in her nest. Most likely trying to deliver that egg! He tried to reach under her, but she wouldn't let him!
So he waited, went out a bit later, and sure enough, there was Daddy's egg! He brought it, still warm, into the kitchen. And Daddy had his breakfast. Now - that's one fresh egg!