= Excellent
= Good/Very Good
= Okay read
= Not recommended
= Ugh! Don't waste your time.
Archive for February 20th, 2005
Sunday, February 20th, 2005Turkeys
The wild turkeys ran by the house today. It has been so long since I last saw them, that I wondered if they had changed their roost site. The dogs alerted me to their presence with loud, excited barks. I gazed out the window and there they were: long necks outstretched, beards wobbling, wings akimbo. Their gobbles filled the sodden air as they ran down the middle of the road, then dipped off to the side and disappeared over the ridge and into the trees.
Sunday, February 20th, 2005Honeymoon in Hawaii
The nights were warm; the sound of the waves soothing…
Sunday, February 20th, 2005A Trip To Costco
I must be insane. Kip and I decided to make a Costco run; on a rainy day; on a Sunday. We parked far away because we had no choice. All the other parking spaces were filled with SUVs, pickup trucks and Caravans. I could just make out the yawning entrance of the store through the sheets of rain and the drift of fog.
I pulled the hood of my jacket up. “Let’s go,” I said and stepped out into the rain.
Inside the store people pushed heavily loaded carts. They all wore the zombie look: glassy eyes, mouths slightly agape, face muscles slack. The smell of food floated on the air currents. The glare of the flourescents hurt my eyes.
Our purchases quickly outgrew our cart and we were forced to rearrange.
“What do you mean we don’t have room for the case of wine?” I asked Kip with a raised eyebrow. I moved the 24 rolls of toilet paper to the bottom of the cart and smiled. “No problem,” I said and tipped the case of wine on its side, fitting it neatly into the cart with room to spare.
We wound through Costco along with the hundreds of others who had decided that a rainy day was a perfect day to stock up on supplies. Sometimes there were logjams, people who refused to move to the side while they gazed through the books.
Finally, we had no more room in our cart. The line at the checkout snaked past the tampax and down the cereal aisle. I sighed and rested my head on the handle of the cart.
“Wait,” Kip said. “I forgot your flowers.”
“My what?”
“Your flowers.” He gave me a slow smile, the kind that warms my heart and makes my knees weak.
Did I mention how much I like trips to Costco?
Sunday, February 20th, 2005Rainy Days
I wake to the sound of cascading water. The rain pounds the roof, runs into the clogged gutters and roils over the gutter edge in a waterfall. It surges down the side of the house next to my bedroom window. I think, time to clean the gutters. I glance at the clock on my bedside table. It is still early; barely 6:30 in the morning. The dogs breathe their heavy, whistling breath. My husband snorts in his sleep and rolls over. The house feels cold and I realize that the wood stove has gone out. It is tempting to lay in bed, listening to the rain as it drums the roof and overflows my gutters.
A cold nose slips beneath the blankets, snorts a greeting.
“Hey, Boubou.” I rub my dog’s face and breathe in her warm scent.
Time to start my day.