Monday, December 29, 2008

Saw that there moon this evening, too

Well, it is Monday night. The last Monday night of the year. It does not feel like Monday night because my dear husband has been home all day. And today he weeded. And he trimmed the asian jasmine. That stuff was sending out tendrills into the street and collecting falling leaves in its tresses by the mailbox.

We watched James go to give his lady love coffee...
We watched James come home, and then go give his lady love lunch...
We watched James nap, and then go eat supper prepared by his lady love...

Maybe we will get the plymouth fixed. It is ten years old. (Bob says eleven). It has been a good workhorse. But, Bob had a small "bump" at 60 mph on I-30 a couple of weeks ago. (seven or eight car pile up when the first one slammed on his brakes, and then drove away) Bob was car number three. Thankfully, conditions were dry, and he was able to drive it home. And we are wondering if this is our sign to retire it and just be a one car family. But, our trusty and trustworthy mechanic (worth his weight in gold) says it is fixable, and might last another year. Do we risk it? Do we plunk down money to fix it and get it inspected? It leaves a constant mosaic of drips on the driveway. It needs its fluid levels checked between oil changes. Bob's coffee stains and drips give an art deco feel and smell. But, the dashboard coffee holder is new. The windshield wipers frames and rubbers are new. The driver's seat is only a year old. And if it passes inspection... If only God would write in the clouds plain enough for us to see: retire the plymouth

We played Scrabble. I beat Bob, so he challenged me to a rematch, and he won by a little. Of course, he bingo-ed. I am proud of myself for overlapping words on top of words like a cross word puzzle. When we do a lot of that in one game, it leaves vast spaces in the corners, and triple word score squares laid bare, and unused. Though, not unwanted.

We bought more victuals at Walmart where the checker was surly, but the greeter fine and friendly. We dined upon chicken and salad where the Chicken Fills You Eh? And the ice cream cones are tasty, and the cheese cake to go in a cute little triangular plastic piece size container will wait patiently in your frig for just the right moment. Then we drove home in haste and my (little old) driver (so lively and quick) saith that he is just keeping up with the traffic. I am sure that when he tells Mr. Policeman, that he, too, will shake his head in disbelief, and write him a ticket. And I will kiss Mr. Policeman's boots, and exclaim that he is an answer to prayer, yea, verily.

The moon, the slenderest of moons, rode down the power lines like notes on a musical score with Venus shining overhead and Jupiter and Mercury planning a party on the horizon down in the trees. Another perfect day in Texas, weather-wise. Thirty-six this morning and seventy this afternoon. Our south brick wall, fully exposed to the sun radiated heat even after sundown and during star gazing.

Was there laundry? Of course, and that slug of thick clorox meant for these "high efficiency" washers needed a double rinse which reminded me of those days when we lazy teens would restart the washer too lazy to transfer for our poor mother.

We supped light with mustard and cheese, and finished that second Scrabble game. Some hot apple juice and the mysteries of how cinnamon sugar turns into bloodclots at the bottom of the mug as we await the sweet Prince's return, Prince James the Just. And we are thankful, but wondered what purpose did Prince Punsalot have in his call earlier today? And why hasn't Prince Naughty not called his Grandmother and thanked her for the card and the twenty?? Next time, I will withhold the card until I see him make the call. Bad boy.

The oppossum trap is baited. And at 7am tomorrow morning, I can call the city to come fetch the power line walker and take him to the park by the river where he can feast or be a feast.


Bob said...

Well, I suppose criticizing my driving in your blog beats criticizing it in traffic.

But you write so well, how can I hold it against you?

joyce said...

If I said you had a beautiful body, would you hold it against me?

And I suppose the policeman would let you go scott free because he see you living with a nag.