Top of the World

This is the inspiration for September's Wordsmiths challenge. I bring you Top of the World. Only the view is spectacular. The rest of this hill could disappear and it I wouldn’t be phased one iota. Sometimes I dream of disappearing with it. Each ride up the desolate road I see his face in my mind’s eye. I scream and poof, I’m gone. He brought us here all those years ago, probably because of the view or maybe the road. Whatever the reason, he left short time later after landing us here at the top of the world, the end of the road.

We’ve been alone here since he left nearly four years ago. Only Doc Ryan still visits. Momma has warned everyone else off. She shoots. Well. Folks in the valley talk about the crazy old lady and her daughter who live up the hill. I don’t much care what they say about me I just want to leave this place. It was never really home. Momma won’t leave because she thinks he’s coming back. I think. Maybe she knows he isn’t and that’s why she stays. The view is spectacular.

We don’t have much, he didn’t leave much more than the clothes he wore when he pretended to work. I make my way down to the valley each day to work for some families who pay me a little to keep our dreariness away from their happy families. They feel good when they can pass on the extra cheese or a pint of milk. Momma won’t have that. She tosses their guilt to the winds when I haul it inside. I understand, still, the cheese would compliment the bread she bakes some afternoons.

The sunrises brought heat and heaping spoonfuls of anger and isolation. Still, sunrises are the best. Momma rises with the sun, ending the nights of anguish. She talks in her sleep, speaking of the dreams she had as a girl, fretting over the dreams she had for her own girl. Momma trusts me not to leave her alone on this hill, with the spectacular view. Yet, I think she wishes I would. Somebody should have their dreams come true she says in her sleep.

This morning I decided that momma’s dream talk is right. Dreams should come true. Doc Ryan said I could drop by anytime I needed to talk or just to sit and think. She said a body needs quiet time. After the last family I went over to Doc’s. She welcomed me with hot tea and a hearty soup. We talked for hours sipping tea, admiring the glowing embers of the roaring fire in her hearth.

Edging up the hill at sunrise I felt the change. The top of the world, the end of the road was too still. Momma’s note explained nothing, but everything was clear. The cook stove was warm and all his clothes were gone. I found the rifle at the edge of the yard. It too was warm. I looked up at the view to confirm, yes, still spectacular.

Impulse Buy

Tequila with chocolate, good. Chocolate and Stout, not even close. Dang Blasted Aunty Flo!!!

Hit the Cycle

Saturday meant errands to the dry cleaners, bank and library. I logged about 5 miles round trip.

Sunday brought a quick skip to my mom’s a mere 1.2 miles away. Probably would have done well to walk instead of ride, but the trip meant chores and I didn’t know exactly what was in store. I didn’t want to risk being too tired to walk back home.

After work, dinner and some down time Monday I rode around the neighborhood logging a total of 6.5 miles.

Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday and Friday found me riding the 7.4 miles to and 7.4 miles from work each of those days.

I am back to a second Saturday of errands and five round trip miles. The cycle continues on second Sunday of chores at mom’s a mere 1.2 miles way.

I had expectations of an emotional high and a physical surge. Both were present but not as much as expected. Well enough though, to keep pedaling.

Pass The Ladle

Since she was a little girl, D liked playing around in the kitchen cooking. It was not something I either encouraged or discouraged. Well, actually, I guessed there was encouragement in that I exhibited eagerness to try her concoctions creations. Some were not half bad.

As she got older and her interests grew, the interest for kitchen arts decreased dramatically. And then they came back just as dramatically. Except now big brother was an eating machine and the amount of food needed to sate the machine would daunt all but the most seasoned provider of cooked meals. D declined the challenge.

And then he moved.

With renewed interest and vigor, D took up the cooking gauntlet yet once again. I relished the break, even if she hadn’t always catered to my dietary concerns. I tried to adjust accordingly. The dinners she assembled were often laden with pasta, potatoes and other less than healthful options. Portion control, difficult because the meals were very good and full of foods I enjoy, was even more vital. Vegetables had to be maneuvered into other meals. D is 'getting there' with regard to veggies.

A recent work schedule change will put me home ahead of D 4 of 5 weeknights, meaning I’ll get dinner on the table more often than not. D made a very specific request that I not make too much of that “diet food” and should I feel the need that I make it “good diet food.” She notes for good measure though that she doesn’t know if is such a thing exists.

I assure her that it does and further that I wasn't going so much for diet as healthful food.

Dinner. Done. I 'm pretty sure she'll be satisfied.

Twisty, Like Bread

I'd exercise more if my knees didn't hurt so much. My knees might not hurt so much if I exercised more.

So says the doc. She suggests losing weight to take pressure off the knees. I'm with that program, have been for several months years now. I'm up and down. Right now my weight is up and my resolve is down.

I feel it coming back, though. Slowly.

M'lady and I had vowed to K E O M (Keep Each Other Motivated) and it was working rather well. She was sidelined by an injury which led to surgery. She is now beginning to feel well enough to get back to the gym.

I took one of those bloggy tests the other day. The topic, health and fitness. After answering all the questions I was labeled "guru". I know what to do, what and how to eat. I just have problems consistently practicing what's been preached.

It's the last week of summer. There is a crispness in the air. Autumn is upon us and like the falling leaves, so too will my weight.

That's the idea, hope, goal, anyway. Resolved!?!

Not So Much

Woman calling boss: You won't see me today

Boss: Why?

Woman: I'm not feeling very well.

Boss: Why? What's wrong?

Woman: I have a case of anal glaucoma

Boss: What the heck is anal glaucoma?

Woman: I can't see my ass coming in to work today.

Admittedly, I spilled a biggle (baby giggle) when I heard this joke.

Mom bracketed the telling with "tell me what you think" in a tone that signaled her stance. She was not amused, in fact she found the joke offensive. She has glaucoma and has daily fears of waking without her eyesight. This fear exists for me as well. I'm saddled with poor eyesight, which has deteriorated over the years. I've feared, since getting my first pair of glasses at a very young age, that one day corrective lenses would not suffice. It is totally within the realm of possibilities that glaucoma is in my future. Yet, a biggle did spill.

Resolved, the joke is not split your sides, shoot soda through your nose, spiggable funny. It doesn't have the succulent tartness of knock, knock's "or-an-ge you glad I'm not a banana" but baby giggle worthiness is evident. Or is it? Granted I wasn't offended but I can see how my mom could have been. I thought that the woman who told my mom this joke may have flashed a dash of insensitivity.

Which is how I left it with mom.

Speaking of knock, knock, enjoy the great rack!

Cheers! x 3 to all my fantasy footballers! Rack Up Those Stats!

Three Plus One

The folks over at The Lesbian Lifestyle poses the question, scenario: If I were stranded on a deserted island, what three things would I bring and what one person would I want there with me and why?

After some careful consideration and calculation, I offer this reply:

I'm taking the liberty in presuming that I wouldn't be stranded forever (in re-runs) ala Gilligan and the crew. That said, I would like to have: first, a photo of my son and daughter. Looking at them never fails to bring a smile to my face, warmth to my soul. Secondly, I'd like a musical instrument. A piano would be fantastic but I wouldn't want one of those tinny sounding kiddie units or one of those electronic keyboards. Batteries, even if I had an endless supply, do not appeal. I wouldn't want to be compelled to think about storage solutions. So, I think a guitar would fit the bill nicely. And finally, a very large music book would be in order as I would want to learn to play actual songs.

The person I would have with me, my girlfriend. She's the one person I'd want to explore other ways to spend time once we were spent reminiscing or strumming.

Servicing the Customer

Dear Valued Customer:

We are honored that you have chosen XYZ Company to supply your M M needs. Your confidence with our products and service strengthens our resolve to offer the finest quality at the most competitive prices.

Your diligent attention and prompt action towards our billing statement is appreciated and welcomed. The payment of invoice 12345A days before the due date indicates a responsible and professional attitude.

We thank you.

The second payment however superfluous, further indicates an exuberance that is indeed exemplary. It would appear that we failed in making it crystal clear when we returned your duplicate payment with the invoice marked PAID, further noting that the account balance was zero and no further payment was due or necessary.

We deeply regret any confusion or inconvenience we may have caused.

If, however, we are mistaken and it was indeed your intent and desire to pay invoice 12345A yet again or to offer a gratuity, then please, if you could make your checks payable to M. E., that would be welcomed and appreciated.

Respectfully Yours,

M. E.

AGM

XYZ Company

It's Time

Go Girls!!!

In the Soup

The day dawned hot and humid. The kind of day my sighing boss describes as soupy, full of heat and steam. He doesn’t much care for soupy days. Me? I rather enjoy the soupy days.

On that soupy day I was at a loss as to what to do for lunch. Normally I eat from a selection of foodstuffs in my office larder. I might have some tuna and a piece of fruit, a salad and some nuts. I might even have soup and crackers. Before or after, depending on the day, I take a walk. I try to take a walk everyday. Well, on that soupy day the larder was bare. I was going to have to use my walk to get some food. What? was the question of the hour.

I work in a neighborhood that is stinky with restaurants of all shapes, sizes, cuisines and prices. The choices are narrowed by budget, personal tastes and distance. I couldn’t go too far, but I wanted to go far enough to satisfy my daily walking goal. I set off with no clear desire about what to eat, where to go. I headed east.

After several blocks I come upon Baba Pita. I’ve passed by many times before with the thought that I’d try it one day. That soupy day was the day. I’m not that well versed in Mediterranean dishes but I figured I could go with some kind of chicken, that’s usually a safe bet. Looking over the menu I thought, hmmm… chicken kabob sandwich. I mulled the menu a bit too long and the clerk, seizing the opportunity, talked me into the special of the day. “I guarantee” he said exuberantly.

From the menu: Appetizer: 2 falafel & 2 stuffed grape leaves
Salad: Fattoush salad (lettuce, tomatoes, cucumber, parsley, mint, toasted pita bread with olive oil)

Soup: Cream of broccoli soup
Entrée: (8) Jumbo fantail shrimp served over basmati rice with dill & lima beans

Selected dessert and cold drink

More food than I wanted or needed, but I figured hey, leftovers. I get the special packed to go, walk the few blocks back to the office, preparing to be dazzled.

The drink was cold, a relief on that soupy day. The stuffed grape leaves and falafel (I only got 1 each-not the 2 promised on the menu) were tasty. I don’t know if they tasted like they were supposed to, as I’ve never eaten any before, but they worked. The rest of the meal however, was abysmal. The lettuce in the salad (what little there was) was brown and wilted. I hate lima beans but oddly they were the best part of the rice. The shrimp was breaded much too heavily and soggy. And the soup? The cream of broccoli soup was the biggest disappointment. I love cream of broccoli soup. This soup not only devoid of broccoli it was sans the cream. This soup on that soupy day was like old dishwater with an essence of broccoli substitutes.

Looking back on that soupy day I realize that I should have read more into the fact that Mediterranean was mis-spelled twice, differently on the painted and printed menus. I will be passing Baba Pita the next time, each time my larder is bare and I don’t know what to eat for lunch. I guarantee.

Pete Speaks

Mwrowr mwrooowr mwroowowr mmrwowr mrw…oops sorry, I forgot. Peter here and I wanted you to know that I HAVE TWO MOMMIES!!!! I’m so excited. They have both been so very nice to me. They have fed me delicious and healthy food, kept my water bowl fresh and my litter box neat. I have my very own beds and many toys. They let me explore all over. I especially like the space with the long white bowl with the rubber bottom. That’s fun for my feet.

My mommies have made sure that it’s nice and quiet for my naps, which I like a lot. They both seem to be happy all the time even when I want to talk to them very early in the morning. The mommy with the extra eyes seems really happy about the early morning chats. That mommy claps her hands, usually when I’m pulling on the rugs or the chair cushions. I think she knows that I don’t like that, when I stop pulling to give her my “look” she stops.

It’s only been a couple of weeks but so far this is my best home. I like it here, I’ll rub their legs and talk to them some more so that they know I want to be here always.

One Down, Four to Go

The first one was brutal. Nothing to eat but sardines & horseradish brutal, six straight days of 10 degree temps brutal, shoes two sizes too small brutal. Brutal, what with Neta’s knee surgery and the painfully slow recovery and return to norms, every phone call, those we were able to have, rendered me impotent, nearly tearing me to shreds. As much as I wanted to talk with her I wanted to be with her more. The bubble and boil we had recently, a testament to the difficulty of the times. But we got through. We come into month number two swathed in the security of our commitment.

Someday soon I will make the reservations for December/January and planning for those days will ensue in earnest. Until then, we will talk, talk and talk some more. Some of that talk undoubtedly, leading to play, expectantly making the days pass like that Indy QB. To that, I say, YaY!