Thursday, November 20, 2008

I was on anxiety’s edge all day Tuesday. I was going to see that lady. Yes lady, a mature woman. She wasn’t an empty headed good time girl. I had Sunday last found she had looks, sass, mystery, a good listener, suportive, sustaining, and I was yet to learn she was also flexible, agreeable, comforting, plus an individual so willing to give more than she’d ever expect to receive. I was on the threshold to find her a very rare treasure. The worst for her regard was yet to come?
Oh I had a busy day hither and yond I had so many odd jobs to do all over town: broken windows, leaking plumbing, fixing some wooden steps for wit I just never seemed to have enough time to make everybody happy. It was well after dark when I unloaded my truck. I had said I wanted to see her and would. I washed up changing shirt and jeans before I was off. Asking her if she wouldn’t mine going out for a little while she agreed. Hungry I headed for the same drive-in where I had first seen Frieda chauffeuring her Ma and a night nurse for her Ma’s nursing home. One of the Shalck family waitresses was beside my window before I knew what I wanted. “What’ll you have?” she asked.
I asked Frieda what she’d have? “You order for me.”
That simplified, I turned to the waitress and ordered, “Two cheeseburger deluxe plus two strawberry shakes.”
“You want them with onions?” she’d asked. I didn’t know what to answer my mind gone blank for either a simple yes or no, when Frieda exuberantly fessed up, “I like onions.”
First word coming to mind, Wonderful. Next words for the Shalck girl, “Smother them.”
“She likes onions. She’s a girl after my own heart.” I had thought.
Finished dining, smiling inward-outwardly our tummy’s satisfied. I asked her “What would you like to do?“ giving her the choice.
Let’s go down town and take a walk. It sounded good to me. The heart of town less than a half mile it weren’t long before I had parked my car beside the bank. I got out, walked around the front of the car, opened her door and offered her my hand. It was a lovely hand fitting again just as well sait did Sunday last.
The business district all of four blocks laid out four ways from the city’s second traffic light one block ran to each the four points of the compass. We walked west first until Phoenix Street called that in town or Phoenix Road in the county ran to the bluff over looking the Black River bottom where the right of way broke dropping the street almost straight down particularly towards the empty wharfs where water front warehouses had once stood. There we crossed the street and walked back turning right at the corner. Doing this pattern until we had walked by all the storefronts our way back to the car. Hand in hand we made many stops. She more than I picked the windows we looked in on. She was particularly interested in the displayed fashion. She’d asked me what I thought about the looks of this fabric or color. Which of a couple pieces lingerie I found more interesting. I thought her a bit weird asking a me, a man, my opinion on what women wear. Oh yeah, I liked girls in dresses, dresses keeping girls looking like girls. A bit chauvinistic, but was me. Completing the business district circuit I took her home and with a hand shake bid her a good night.
Son of a gun, first thing out this morning two water fountains had froze. I knew I should have turned on the heating elements a few days ago. Darn darn darn. Every time I had thought of it. I as easily forgot about it. Both thawed out. The first one kept on line. The other put in an empty lot was taken apart for parts repair or replacement was put on hold to get back to bailing stover.
Corn-stover baling went a lot better today than the last two. Primarily my spending more time or times between bales cleaning the balers rollers where corn leaves and stalks accumulated slows down the belts, the belts in turn, moving take the crop away from the pickup header, in turn roll the crop into cylindrical bales. When the belts aren’t turning nothings baled and the machine plugs. A plugged machine don’t make hay bales.
Going to talk neglect.
Poor ladies were talking when I got home. Don’t blame them either, seeing as how I had maybe forgotten them. Thankfully I was all forgiven when I finally put some corn vittles in front of them. That stuff shut up their mouths.
Secondly, getting so cockeyed late, cold and hungry, darkness having fallen hard I’ve again failed to bring firewood into the house Well, there’s always tomorrow. BGKC.
One more thing. Myself being a slow lad, It’s taken me years to figure this one out over a lot of tomorrows.

1 comment:

Adirondackcountrygal said...

Hey Fern, I've been enjoying your tales of romance!