Rainy Day Bus Ride

“That’s my husband,” said the woman on the bus as she gathered her things, nodding her head towards the man who was waiting on the curb, standing with an umbrella in the rain. “I just haven’t married him yet.”

That’s like me and the vet; only with us, there’s no yet.

Just the thought of marriage flashes “H-e-double-toothpicks-capital-N-O” in neon blinking lights inside of me and it has ABSOLUTELY NOTHING to do with love… there’s legally binding fine print on those marriage certificates that I object to, oft writ in invisible ink. I’m not signing anything that will make me financially responsible for the acquired debts of another full grown, independently minded, adult human for rest of their natural life, or the duration of the marriage, whichever comes first. Been there twice, not doing it again.

As for the Old G, he’s got his own reasons. He will tell people (usually other men) that I am his wife, but that is just talk. He has never been married and has no intention of marrying me.

So, that’s one thing we are in agreement about, one of those surprises of something in common considering that we are polar opposites.

We don’t take a lot of selfies together… this one was snapped downtown, good year or two ago as I obviously was not exactly sober.

I avoid being photographed.

He’s the one who is snap happy… he likes to take selfies, photos of grandchildren, flowers, birds, squirrels, toy cars, what’s on the grill, his plate, whatever.

I scroll down Facebook some days and say whoa… that’s my messy room in that photo and there’s my pink bra in the background of a shoe shot, and oh my gosh… that’s the inside of my refrigerator, a close-up of banana pudding with a one word description: GOOD.

We are good together. That surprises me as I thought our differences would get in the way, that he would soon tire of me, or I wouldn’t be able to handle being in a relationship after being on my own for so many years.

I don’t know what the future holds, life has a tendency to spin on dimes, so all we can do is live life raw, real, and right now.

Thanks for reading!

Photo credit: banana pudding shot swiped off his Facebook page.

Kitchen Memories

Fire up the barbecue, mama’s in the kitchen…

We cooked for the holiday weekend. I made potato salad, macaroni salad, baked beans, yeast rolls, and my special homemade barbecue sauce.  For dessert, I baked a strawberry cake and put together a fresh pineapple and cantaloupe fruit dish. He manned two grills: chicken, ribs, burgers, hot dogs, corn on the cob, and sausages.

Two of the girls stopped by and made plates to take home. The other two might pop in wanting plates tomorrow, but even so, we might be eating leftovers halfway into June.

I didn’t cook anything green… oh well, we can eat veggies and leafy green salads with leftovers.

Memorial Day is the day we are supposed to remember slain soldiers who fought for our freedom, but it is women in kitchens that cross my mind in remembrance… Grandma Goldie cooking up a storm, Aunt Ethel shelling peas on the porch, Grandma Blackburn baking pies… women who endured wars fought for pins and ribbons, just causes, and the ever restricted illusion we know as freedom.

Thanks for reading!

 

Lamp Post

Conversation with the vet:

Babe, what do you call this?
Uh… a lamppost.
I know it’s a lamppost, but what do you call it now?
It’s still a lamppost.
But, what is it? It’s got to be called something else.

So, what do you call a lamppost that looks a little different than other lampposts?

Drum rolls or eye rolls, we agreed on “artsy” as the adjective.
It’s just a lamppost, but… he can call it an artsy lamppost if he so pleases.
Give me time, sweet man. That rusty ol’ pole won’t be the first clue of an artist in residence.

I did give it a fresh coat of paint and pounded a wooden spoon paddle into the ground beside the base to help wedge it up a bit straighter. It’s the stained glass inserts that make him think it needs a new name. They were fun to make but took awhile as I had sold my glass grinder and my hands kept cramping up with bones locked in a shadow play duck position.

Photos snapped along the way:

Had to revamp this plan… clear glass was too thick for my came.

New plan… going with the blues. This is a “use whatcha got” project.

Forget the Dremel… this glass file works GREAT!

Hand cramps: with a flashlight and sheet, we could call that a duck.

Putting it together… yeah, it’s been awhile.
And I couldn’t find my plastic dodahs for the horseshoe nails.

All done… surprised it glows oranges.

Thanks for reading!