Yup, the countdown has begun. A whole month from yesterday, thirty one days from today, four weeks and a day, it’s all going to happen on the very same coinciding day as it had ten lustrums ago. How about that? I had never given it a recent thought until I realized yesterday was the eighth. Meanwhile, I’m going to write about the every good or bad ideal, moments in time, tricks played, wisdom, dumb/smart assed things what was befallen leading up to that day our lives journey’s been together ever since. Singularly I’m going to tell some tales maybe some tall/some low, maybe ho hum, perhaps rewarding, stories commanding respect, stories of dirty tricks and foul deeds, some accomplishments/disappointments, some losses, rewards and trade offs. Some episodes purely from my memory, some episodes uttered of her own.
There are two bottom lines in my mind’s meandering I’ll set to print during what days are going to make the whole of this last month. Along one line my writing shall be a tribute to a very special Lady. A lady who’s never asked no more of me than to treat her with respect. A lady who’s never pressed me but has known me to naught but keep my promises. A lady who’s fondest gift from me have been the words I’ve written of her, about her, to her, in good or bad taste, evil, just, or perhaps even humorous to some reasoning.
Here’s the first one, short and sweet? Our lucky number’s “seven.” Our luckiest day of the week, “Monday.” Our favorite color/colors “blue” and “yellow” never mixed; but stirred together they made for us the great outdoors, our finding our own blessed gardens of Eden.
3:00 AM I’ve waken from my sleep fostering a headache and finding I’m nostalgic as Hell. What’ll ever come of it, me, us only the time written will tell. While I’m bitching I still ain’t found dark chocolated Tylenol.
Okay, I’ll fess up. I took half the day and wasted it relaxing. Why? Most likely because I haven’t enough pressing me to do in a timely fashion. What I did do was dropped the window sash out of the basement window frame and sawed out a couple pieces of glass for it. To secure the new plas5tic glass I required a number of steel sash clips. So it was a trip over to the Crossroads. While in that neighborhood, might just as well market saving another trip combining this one, besides I needed my milk. More while I was in the market I spook with the manager asking about oat flour. Checking the shelves he hadn’t some. There was rolled oats. There was cracked oats. No oat flour. While I filled my shopping cart with goods from one end the market to the other he looked up the possibilities of stocking oat flour. He found two sources and is ordering me in some. My argument! With an increasing number of Senior citizens having to watch and control their cholesterols. Oat flour is a very viable help replacing wheat floor in home-made baked goods: pancakes, waffles, cakes, cookies, pie crusts, and maybe even noodles if I can find our noodle machine.
While I was in the market Frieda had wanted some yogurt. The funny stuff was store brand $4/10 cups. While I was selecting and packing 10 to a clear produce bag, a lady coming by asked me, “Why do you need so many?” I told her, “Personally I can’t stand the stuff. I’m buying this awful stuff for my wife.” as I started to fill a second clear bag with the fruitily doctored yogurt, the same lady said, “You are a good husband.” and walked away.
Hot Damned, she says that good husband bull just like Frieda does. I’ll tell you, there is my no getting away from this wreak rebuild in progress.
Oh lawd, Shorthorn country has more than seen enough of me this day and evening, I’ve got to call it finished. BGKC.