Monday the Fifth
mm-mm good! mm-mm good! that's what hot & black says, mm-mm good.
Magic mug this morning is a bit extra strong, on purpose, to celebrate another Monday at 7H. No rain at the moment, but the porch rail is wet, so we did have rain overnight, and the sky's dark cloudy, so we may have rain again. Rain is always welcome, as are most of Nature's manifestations when we are safely inside.
Not all of them - - hurricanes are not, though a climate shift this year seems to have kept them from forming; and we've had a day or two our dozen years here in 7H, of watching waterspouts form across the Bay in the Gulf just offshore - - waterspouts can be a bit rattling.
The new television for the bedroom was delivered and installed Friday afternoon. "Hi, LG," I tell it, "turn the TV on," and it does so. "Hi, LG, turn to WOW Panama City," and it obeys. "Hi, LG, turn the volume up a bit, please," and it says, "I'm turning the volume up." "Hi, LG, turn the television off," and everything goes off except a bright white light lower front center.
There is such a thing, you know, as living beyond your comprehension: I'd rather just have a TV remote with numbers and arrows on it, and not have to worry about the little man behind the screen who now lives in the bedroom with us, nomesane? What does he do when we're asleep, nomesane? Will he climb down, go unlock the front door and let strangers in? IDK and neither do you. I hope they don't make a lot of noise and drink up all my beer.
When we were teenagers, Linda's father sat by the b&w television set so he could reach out and adjust the volume or change to the other channel (there were two channels), and he was sitting close enough to fiddle with the rabbit ears if the picture got wavy.
It never occurred to me that Mr & Mrs Peters might very well get sick and tired of hearing the tap at the front door, and Linda letting the Bubba in every night, to stay for the evening.
That was, what? 1952 - 2026 = 74 years ago.
Linda's father had names for people - - his mother-in-law was Old Hatchett-Face, I was Pinky-Cheeky. Linda was Dootsy. Linda's mother was Twistums.
Not that he ever called me Pinky-Cheeky to my face, but the evening question was, "Is Pinky Cheeky coming over?"
They were most gracious, I always felt welcome.
He seared a tasty steak, including cooking mine just right, so red raw that Linda's mother would stand a napkin or something between her eyes and my plate so she didn't have to look at it.
He liked Buick cars: in the years I knew him he had a 1950 Buick Super, a 1953 Buick Super, a 1958 Buick Roadmaster, and a white 1962 Buick Invicta with red leather seats.
There are more and other car stories, but in 1960 when the Navy PCS'd us from Norfolk to Jacksonville, he let us borrow his Roadmaster to drive from PC to Jacksonville to look for a house to live in. Those years, Linda and I had an orange Opel Rekord that cost us $2.30 to fill the gas tank. I remember my shock when it cost me seven dollars to fill the tank on Pete's car. Remember those enormous Buicks with high fins and laden with chrome?
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For breakfast this morning I'm thinking of having a couple of spoons of the Specialty honey yogurt we bought at Aldi. It's tasty, and I think it has those little bugs in it that are good for your stomach. Yogurt, a handful of heart pills, and a sip of water. The doctor told me to go easy on the water, because dealing with it overworks my heart, diverting it from other functions to exercise the kidneys. There's a certain amount of that to life these years and days.
But, hey, I showed up again this morning, and it's Monday, long my favorite day of the week, peace and happiness.
Wishing you the same.
RSF&PTL
T91