Friday, August 23, 2013

Day 42 Friday Aug 23 THE DAY I MET YOUR MOTHER


THE DAY I MET YOUR MOTHER
Day 42 Friday August 23 Zoe's Morning Pages

Whew, are we glad that day has come and gone! Mischa was hurrying us into the car at the crack of the rosy fingers again. She likes to say “rosy fingers of dawn” cause a Homer being the first novelist and him being from you know where...

Anyways we had to wait on the ferry line and wait in the doctor’s office and I had to wait in the parking garage...but it all turned out worth everybody’s wait, cause ole B came out with a clean whistle!
“She’s outta the woods!” Mischa came runnin up to the car to deliver the news.
“Yes and we’re going home.”
So she piles B back in the car. And we go wait for the ferry again, which seemed sorta like forever since we got up so dang early. Mischa fell asleep twice waitin in the line. Horns were honkin louder than a pack of mad geese. Finally I had to go up front and lick her knee. She’s salty! I like that!
So the more good news is we got to eat salmons. Yep, vegans beware, when a catastrophe is about, or if one has recently been diverted, we eat fish! I can just see the fingers pointin and the tongues waggin about it, but Mischa says, she don’t really care much. She has a remnant of hedonist in her from her younger days, and she pulls that out when she feels like breakin the fast. I don’t hold her back either, in fact I encourage it! I guess I am guilty of enabling her, but... what can I say, I like fish.
Anyways when we get home, Mischa pours herself a nice stiff cocktail and we all go out and lay on grass. She had a whole pocketful of bones stashed for me, and I got like 3 of them right in a row.  Mischa starts tellin the story of when she first met ole B. I heard it about a thousand times now but hey....it’s a good one, it’s our family history ya know!
Yeah she said she was just comin home to roost after a long decade or more in Philadelphia.
“Can you guess the root of that word Zoe?” she always asks me, every time we talk about Philly...And I say “yes mam that there word has its roots in the country where the idea for just about everything in the universe originiated, am I right or am I right?” “Right you are you intelligent little canine!” she always says back.  Anyways she comes home to Pixburgh and goes out for dinner, and she sees ole B, you guessed it, across a crowded room! And she grabs hold a one a her friends and says “Who is that?” and her friend says “Well, now, that there is the jeweler!” Mischa’s eyes lit up like someone said the magic word: open sesames, or something like that. And right then a spark was lit that coulda set the whole commonwealth of Pennsylvania on fire, but it didnt, it just set ole Mischa and B on fire. As the story goes a romance started and a romance ended in pretty short order. Much to Mischa’s chagrin!  (I like that word despite it’s sad connotation.)  But six years later... it all flamed right up again, like the embers weren’t ever put out, so back up it roared!
So I’m listening to her talk about the restaurant and the crowded room, and I got my own visions conjured up. A room full of beautiful dingoes elbow to elbow in the joint, and way way off on the other side of the room, I spy the redhead eatin up a pound a bacon, some chops and small house salad. A big smile on her face. And ole Mischa on the other side of the room, waxin poets about the jeweler!
So that’s it for this morning, I’m still pooped from our emotional roller ride yesterday. So it’s nap time for me. Later

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