Recently L’s Mother has started to doodle little icons to represent various special days on the calendar. These doodles have proven to be . . . challenging to me, both in interpreting them and in keeping my mouth shut while attempting said interpretation.
Now, I don’t mind going for a joke, but some jokes, like asking if the doodle intended to represent International Chocolate Day is supposed to represent “Clean Up After Your Dog Day” is joke fruit hanging just a little too low for my tastes.
Hmmmmm . . . from the sound of it, either there’s a leak somewhere in my roof, or a little gnome carpenter is working on my ceiling in the rain.
“I just finished up a few rounds of bellows breath,” L’s Mother told me yesterday. “Not to be confused with Mister Bellows’ breath, of course,” she added with a grin.
Now friends and neighbors, there are few things sadder than dropping a reference some fifty odd years out of date and expecting someone else to get it, but sadder things do exist.
“It’s Doctor Bellows‘ breath,” I corrected her.
It’s not like I’m unfamiliar with how quickly Nature can reclaim something. For instance, I saw what happened to my grandparent’s house after it became abandoned (or more accurately, I didn’t see it thanks to all the trees), but I’m frankly amazed at how much Nature seems to want to reclaim my car.
Another product of my taking more frequent walks is that I’m starting to become conversant in “the language of fences.” (It’s like the language of flowers, just less interesting . . . and with fences.)
For instance, a chain-link fence says, “We value our view,” while a standard six-foot tall fence says, “We value our privacy,” and an eight-foot tall fence with motion sensing lights says, “Go. Away.”
“I’m going to get some things from the grocery store,” L’s mother announced this morning.
“If you get another cake, I’m divorcing you,” I told her. (This seemed like a reasonable thing to joke about since threating violence over a cake seemed like too much to me.) “But don’t worry,” I added. “It’s not like I’ll move out or anything.”
“The funny thing is,” she chuckled, “my first thought was, ‘It’s going to be hard to pay for your insurance if you’re not my spouse . . .'”
Well . . . it looks like it’s time to increase my coping skills again since it’s not like things are getting less annoying.
Unconditional no. Unconditional no. I do wish you well I want you to know. I respect your conditions, but I must confess, what I'm looking for is unconditional yes.
Conditional no, conditional no. I have my standards, and everyone knows. Yes, I want to do it, but not just yet, and here are my conditions so you don't forget.
At this point I’d even put up with some fair-weather friends just to experience some fair weather . . .
