Here I sit, nestled in my recliner with my laptop resting on my knees and Sally snuggling up against my left thigh. (Don’t fret -- Sally isn’t a new girlfriend; she’s an old cat.)
Joyce has promised me a haircut today but neither of us is in a hurry. (If it came down to it, I could administer the shearing myself. Those lonely gray strands don’t admit much styling these days -- a few strokes with unguarded clippers should do the trick.) But back to my point, here I sit covered with a light coating of body salts because I haven’t showered since I gave the yard its crewcut. But first comes my crewcut then the shower.
I've done my mowing for the day. It's not my favorite chore, but this morning it was one that rewarded me with a wonderful discovery. (No, I don’t mean the fresh cat poop I stepped in or the dead grackle carcass I had to put in the trash. How much the sweet kitty beside me had to do with those two surprises will forever remain a mystery.) When I say wonderful discovery, I'm not referring to those insect treats hidden in the long grass. I mean, I was strolling past the fence separating our yard from the neighbor’s when I saw this:
Joyce has promised me a haircut today but neither of us is in a hurry. (If it came down to it, I could administer the shearing myself. Those lonely gray strands don’t admit much styling these days -- a few strokes with unguarded clippers should do the trick.) But back to my point, here I sit covered with a light coating of body salts because I haven’t showered since I gave the yard its crewcut. But first comes my crewcut then the shower.
I've done my mowing for the day. It's not my favorite chore, but this morning it was one that rewarded me with a wonderful discovery. (No, I don’t mean the fresh cat poop I stepped in or the dead grackle carcass I had to put in the trash. How much the sweet kitty beside me had to do with those two surprises will forever remain a mystery.) When I say wonderful discovery, I'm not referring to those insect treats hidden in the long grass. I mean, I was strolling past the fence separating our yard from the neighbor’s when I saw this:
Or a closer view:
So it was twenty-two years ago today that I poured a wall to keep our idiot Boxer/Lab mix from gouging out her eyes whenever she'd stick her head under the fence in her futile hopes of escaping. That dog is now long gone, but those little four-year-old's handprints and footprints remain.
Andy, you were such a cute little boy (still are, just not so little anymore). But wow, has it really been that long?
6 comments:
Twenty-two years ago today. I just can't believe it. Wow. And the yard looks great. All green and lush, and those 99 cent crepe myrtles are as tall as trees. One shades the little boy's prints. And now that little boy has a baby all his own.
Yeah, the grass seems to be enjoying the heat. (Though, unlike the yard, I'm somewhat less enthusiastic about the onset of summer.) I suppose there is the consolation of the grandbaby - she's way cute.
Just curious, but did you write the numbers in the cement on your own? If so, you are excellent at printing.
Yup! I lettered that my own self. And proud I am.
Just doing some rubbernecking and loved the blogtitle. Read this post and thought...Man, i am SO no ready for those days. I'm enjoying these days with a five, almost four, almost two, and almost here ones now...even now they are all out in the driveway riding bikes tricycles and scooters and playing "hotscotch". Happy Birthday to your son!
Piper--
Thanks for dropping by. Do enjoy those little ones. Yhey grow up so quickly, but don't despair. In a sense you'll always have them with you (in your memories -- and hopefully not in the spare bedroom). I wish you and your lovely wife joy with the arrival of the baby.
And sorry, I probably could have been clearer -- the date engraved on the wall is the day I poured the concrete, not Andy's birthday. Our three boys were all born in the Fall.
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