Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year
From: Me, Her, & the Dawg's
For openers:
Susie's new liver will be three years old on the second day of the 1st month of the Gregorian calendar, with her spirit and energy noticeably marching back into her persona this year. Her passion, spirit and bullheadedness of the woman I had fell madly in love with and married has reborn and recovered from her operations, into a delightful treasure every time she opens her mouth, and pleasant sound pressure levels, grace and sooth my ears in their passing. She has ever so slowly got her Alpha Captain of the Ship status back, with me bowing my head to her pleasant assertive voice, my hands will start looking for empty pockets, with the shuffling of feet, not sure what foot to stand on, or where or what direction to lean. The high-spirited Gypsy has returned and with it her sweet dry wit, as an example you’re going to love this:
Thanksgiving dinner, we were to spend the day with her daughter; The Ann and her charming husband, Mike and grandchildren, in Cincinnati. Susie knew that Mike was going to have his sister and brother in from out of town, and that Jack; Ann's father, was also going to share Thanksgiving Day. A few days before we were to go down, Susie started walking around the kitchen with despair dripping from her voice, “what am I going to take down, what am I going to fix.” Sparks almost flipped off the cookbooks as she rummaged through them, in her search for that something special. I blurted out, “Greasy Bread” not really giving it any thought when I said it. Her speculative glance found me tugging forcefully on my foot that had lodged itself in my mouth. I bent my head downward so she would not see me blush as I slowly removed my humorless humor.
I said sit down and let’s go over Ann’s menu and see what we can come up with; fortunately it was the right thing to say at the appropriate moment. As her voice became melodious as she poured herself a glass of sparkling water, she took a long pull on the bubbly stuff. Then she leaned back deeply into the kitchen chair, then stared deeply into my eyes, searching almost scanning my face and mysteriously said, have you got new glasses on, …long pause… there is something different about your face, …another long pause…didn’t you used to have a mustache, she says. Her sweet breath made me feel lucky to be in its space, and to know that as she is looking; we are experiencing a manner that makes marriages what marriages are. She brought life to us that afternoon that floated though out the day, and throughout the week.
Back to the menu, Susie spouted off with the usual Thanksgiving fair, then I asked about the desserts and she said Ann was going to make a Pecan Pie, and that Jack always stops at Frisch's and picks up a Pumpkin Pie. That’s it, she bellows out so loudly that our dawg’s, The Dunk and Hattie Pitty Patty, stormed into the kitchen with their hair on the back standing ruffled and their tails up like a scorpion on point. After about three tours of the kitchen, finding nothing out of the way, they marched back to their laundry room dog quarters, grabbed a toy and went on to their respectful beds. But I can’t make a decent crust she meekly said, but wait a minute…she was off into her cook book library, returning shortly with a book and broad smile. The Five Thousand Dollar pie crust she said, that is what this woman won at a pie baking contest, and this is what I will make. All week she was mentally sparing with the pie and crust, as she went though her daily chores and life. The day of the baking she made me go upstairs to my third floor office, and informed me not to come down, so as to not break her concentration she sternly said, which brought joy and happiness to yours truly.
As we had finished at long last the third floor, the dry wall, paint, carpet, and carrying up the countless books, papers, and computer equipment, with chairs, all forty-four steps. When we first bought the house, before we moved in, we had torn the walls down to the studs, and moved a partial built spiral staircase that one went in one direction while the other one went in the other, I then welded them up in a serpentine direction with a landing, Susie was standing as fire watch with a water hose. It took two and a half days of welding, but there is not another one like it in the world. As I plopped down in front of my puter I noticed the lead glass bottle stoppers that cap the ends of the handrail, I know that makes it one of a kind in itself, I smile to myself.
I opened my e-mail accounts and saw one from Florida, and thought of my recent trip to Florida to see my hero-mentor-buddy that was at death's door; luckily I made it in time before the Grim Reaper slammed the portal. The drive down and back made me conscious just how I stand in life physically, my jest and oomph is still there, a few sprinkles at best now, though it is in the mind still; just not the body. Sigh… I get up and walk over to the six foot by six foot palladium window at the front of my office, and stare down at my brick courtyard, and enjoy the memories of the Brick Swap we had on June 24th. It seems people like to say upon entering our back yard, “I see you don’t like to cut grass?” Where at the brick swap, we had an open house the day before, and the fellow brickers all had their heads bent down saying amongst themselves, I see he has an OBA Prison Made brick, and is that a Chickasaw IT over there; etcetera-etcetera. We had 50 to 75 brickers at the house, with the following day over a hundred maybe a hundred and a half easy. “This was my highlight of the year!”
I then go downstairs a short time later, just when she is pulling the pies from the oven. You know what I want to do she says, with that impish grin spreading across and over her face like a plate full of mashed potatoes. Don’t say a word, and present it as an offering, and not say it is a Sweet Potato pie, but represent it as a Pumpkin Pie. The plates at Ann’s were loaded with delightful smells; Mike said a befitting prayer, with everything tasting as good if not better than it smelled. I just ate one plate, wanting to save myself for dessert, with me saying I want a little Pecan and Pumpkin to Susie. Susie’s returning smile wanted me to take the wind out of her sails, but this was her parade and I didn’t want to rain on it.
I as everyone else ate our desserts with no survivors, outside of a crumb or two. I then said to everyone at the table, what did you think of that Pumpkin Pie? Almost in unison they all said, that that was the best Pumpkin Pie they had ever had, with Mike*s brother saying that the pie crust was killer. I then said that they still had not had Pumpkin Pie, but in fact they had just eaten Sweet Potato Pie. Everyone was stumbling over themselves saying, I thought that was a Sweet Potato Pie, was that really Sweet Potato? I just thought that was the best Pumpkin Pie someone else said, with Mike's brother saying that was still the best crust I have ever had.
The ride home was the most pleasant moment in time for us, as Susie just giggled school girl like from the Sweet Potato caper, saying over and over, that I can at long last make a pie crust. We slept soundly in each others arms that night cooing ever so softly.