Thursday, March 31, 2005

Kite

We'd toted this silken furled monster around, unassembled, in the back of the Punkin for weeks.  The trolls are on break and their mother has school, so the only sitters they've ever had got called in for overtime.  The last several days have had very gusty winds, and today was no exception.  K picked up the trolls and brought them back to a park near our house, and I walked up to meet them.

As I crested the hill I heard borne on the wind my most euphonious appellation, and see G, arms outstretched, at full gallop barrelling across the soccer field toward me.  One of those images I'll always retain.  Swept him up and hugged him until he gasped, then repeated the process with Miss Thing who was trailing but not by much, due to rough terrain, very short legs, and the added burden of a pink Care Bear.

With the able assistance of our spotter, we repeatedly launched the Giant Wasp Kite until hunger pangs and time constraints bade us sojourn to Pizza Planet.  Miss Thang experienced a minor meltdown on the short ride, but my hard-earned specialty in quelling obstreperous young women came in handy yet again.  By the time I carried my Sweet Baboo into said Planet, she was docile and insisting that I be the one to cut up her pizza, not Nana.  Not at all a slur at Nana, but a nod toward curmudgeonly kindness.

Now, K is off for a floor show in LA; I'm cranking up RadioParadise.com and basking in the memory of another wonderful day.  The cast of the light on the kidlette's hair, the way it turns it more red than auburn; how the wind moved Bella's hair as she clutched the kite string spindle, brave, smiling  and adventurous.  K, indulgent but ever vigilant, under the sparse shade of a ficus.  Today was a pretty good day.

Wednesday, March 30, 2005

Possible Passing (of a Stone, or a Clod, at least)

Word has reached these parts that the Most Reverend Jerry Falwell lies inert in a suthun hospital, in critical condition.

Is it too much to hope that he passes quickly, and meets his (truly) just reward?  Even better, and more just, he should pass a stone a la Al Swearingen in Deadwood.  Took Al three weeks; three episodes, anyway.  Pretty convincing portrayal of what another experienced chap told me felt most like a cat being dragged against its will through his urethra.

Tuesday, March 22, 2005

Alice In Wonderland Gots Nothing On Me

Have had a frenetic few days, with a tenant (purportedly with mob ties) I had to lock out, our attorney, the owners, lots of phone calls etc.  Today the owner calls me with the news he's made a deal with the tenant.  I'm to phone the tenant with the past due balances total the two of them have agreed on.  There's a good deal of hurry-up involved, Owner tells me, "Here's the number he's at, I just got off the phone with him."  I jot down the number and dutifully arithmeticate and phone the tenant. 

Right then, the Jane/Tarzan yell I have programmed in my cell phone for my girls goe off with wild abandon.  I look at the display; it's Kris.  The phone to my ear is still ringing, so I hazard quickly answering K's call and mutter, sotto voce, "I'll call you right back!"  Imagine my disorientation as I hear in my other ear my very words.  Quickly, I hang up both phones.  What the . . . .? 

Please tell me it's not going to be like this.  There must be some things that a person can count on, that don't have to be checked, re-checked and checked again? 

The owner had given me my own cell phone number instead of the tenant's.  A call from the home phone to my cell phone can only come from- well, you get it. 

The worst part?  I did the whole routine a second time before I caught on.  Coulda been worse.  I might still be dialing and smiling.

Rhymes With Boozer

My old buddy Noll came to town yesterday.  We hit the greensward for a quick nine.  Quick for him: he won six holes, I won one.

Came back to our house for some poke roast the missus had had in the pot all day, heard beeping.  That's been happening lately - not the poke, but the beeping.  Turned out to be the battery backup for my 'puter.  Upon further review, no power whatsoever to the whole house.  Neighbors in same predicament.  SRP reports it will be at least ocho in the post meridian before someone gets out to 'fustigate (Gabe's word). 

We downs the tasty roast on the patio, Noll leaves.  We reads by flashlight.  We walks down to Payton's for a brewski and some pinball.  We discovers somebody hasn't brung his fiduciary credentials.  We walks home and pockets our credentials.  We drives to the movies.  It's Kevin Costner or the bush.  We drives to Paytons, hires a brewski and a handful of quarters.  The missus kicks my ass at pinball.  Home again home again jiggedy jig.  No electricity until about 3:30 a.m.  Some days are just like that.

Wednesday, March 2, 2005

Pirate Joker In Training

BBrrrrrriiiiing - brrriinnnnnngg

Hello - Who's this?

Grampa!!  It's Gabe!!

What do you want now, your rotten little troll?

Grampa!!!  Do you know why the kid coudn't get into the pirate movie??!!!!!!

No, Monkey Meat, why couldn't the kid get into the pirate movie?

Grampa!!!  BECAUSE IT WAS RATED AAAARRRRRRGGGGGH!!!!!!!!!!!!!  Get it?  AAARRRRRGGGH!!!!!!!!!!

Peals of laughter. 

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