GF’s hosting of her
family’s Thanksgiving/her birthday dinner went well.
It should have. I worked my tail off after coming in early from my annual
deer/camping trip. I cooked a squash casserole and did the turkey. 2
contributed the pecan pies made in tart shells. I cleaned. I raked. I even
went so far as to sprinkle some kitty litter on the oil spots that appear
wherever I park the CJ. I crumbled up the lumps in the litter to make sure I
wouldn’t confuse them later with various and sundry parts that might have
fallen off the jeep. You can eliminate this tiresome job by using new kitty
litter.
Anyway, you get the idea. I knew where my next pizza was coming from and I
aimed to please.
The conversation at the table after cutting GF’s birthday cake centered
quite naturally on GF and her __th birthday.
Her mother told the others at the table that she never expected her daughter
to have this birthday without She (the mother) already having played Mother
of the Bride. Her eyes reminded me of Grubby’s, certain that I was up to no
good, as they kept me pinned, squirming, desperately searching, for an
escape. I kept expecting a stream of tobacco juice to cut off any attempt to
escape in the other direction. Bobbling female heads started bobbing in
unison at this truism as the cackling began.
The room started to get really warm and every thing started to go grey. I
started to sputter nonsense as my brain followed my mouth by a good five
seconds.
The men, I think, suspected a public hanging coming and weren’t sure whose
side they would be on. Would rampant male camaraderie win out or would they
bow to the bloodlust of those who sensed a weakness in their chosen victim?
They say that females are the more vicious of most species. Discretion,
being the better part of valor, the men excused themselves to the front room
to turn up the TV. Either they didn’t want to share embarrassed silent
pitying looks as the condemned babbled on or else they wanted to drown out
their own amused laughter.
As the various female relatives slowly started to twirl their marriage bands
around their fingers, one of the sisters in law chimed in “Maybe she just
hasn’t found the right one yet.” This sent them into a round of speculation
about why considering all the really great prospects she has had in the
Past. Then another asked “Why don’t you marry Chuck?” “Yes” a cousin said
“It’s better to be a young widow than a old maid”
Do you think that GF would jump in and rescue me before I collapsed in a
dehydrated groveling husk?
Well, she did. Finally.
After letting me stew a sufficient amount of time she announced that she was
quite happy with our relationship’s status--- as of now, but I might not
want to put off learning how to make my own pizza to long unless I was going
to buy the franchise.
Saturday, December 28, 2002
© LCM3
Rimfire at Idlehourwebs dot com