Sunday, November 17, 2013

Trippin a Fuse


"Well, I thought I had a hot flash." I tell my gyno and wait for his usual reaction.

"See," he waggles a finger at me, "I told you it would happen."

Yeah, predictable but wrong. Of course my attitude took a drastic shift from snotty to nice, but hot flashes? "Nah, I refuse to get hot flashes." He shakes his head but I have more to say. "I was in the bathroom when the temperature skyrocketed and I wanted to hurt my husband."

"That," he says, head bobbing, "is definitely a hot flash."

My gyno is a nice man. He has silver hair. He has a wife who quilts and his instruments are warm. Warm is good. Ankle cocked across his knee, he leans back in his chair and peers at me. He looks amused. Swathed mummy style in a paper gown I sit on the table and wait a beat. "You would think so," I roll my eyes, "but Rob put flood lights in the bathroom fixture." I splay my fingers. "Five floodlights."

Eyes bright, he guffaws.

I win, sort of. I've got Rob and Rob has a strange and marvelous mind. Where he gets his ideas is a mystery to me. Floodlights indeed.


Friday, September 27, 2013

It Was A Dark and Stormy Night

"It was a dark and stormy night." I mouth as I pound away on my laptop. Wait. This is familiar. I
delete the line and try again. "It was ... It was ... "

Crap, the words don't flow so I force myself into the zone. I'm a writer. I'm ...

"It was a dark and stormy night. It was ... " Jesus. Must the neighbors mow their lawn right now?

"It was a dark and stormy ... " Damn, will Rob ever fix the leaky toilet or must I do everything? I frown at the keyboard, bite my lip, try to focus.

"It was ... " Ah buggers. So much for chapter twenty seven. Now Rob and J.T. are back from fishing and I won't accomplish a thing. Camped out in the recliner, I sigh, then hear them back the boat into the side yard, where metal grates metal, and a hissing geyser of grey steam trumpets past the window. "Son of a ..." I shoot to my feet and send the front door crashing back on it's hinges.

@#$*  %!@##* it Rob. You just hit my *^#@K!^$ air conditioner. Midway to a stroke I become aware of two things. One, there's a wide eyed woman, dressed in a bathing suit, holding an inflatable killer whale, sitting in the back of a pick up truck, in front of my house. And two, our eleven year old neighbor, J.T.'s baby blues are saucer wide.

I give the kid a look and roll my eyes. "Next time you two fish, maybe you could drive."

He grins and runs off to inspect the damage.

Not ready to view the twisted remains of my air conditioner, I stand in the drive, arms tight across my chest doing my gol damndest to curtail my swearing.

Rob climbs out of the cab. "Did I hit the air conditioner?" I narrow my eyes and he grimaces.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry, I ... "

Confused, I turn toward the voice and spot the woman, minus the killer whale, headed my way. I guess she came to swim in Mary's pool.

"This is all my fault. I really wasn't in a hurry but Mary said Rob never has trouble when he parks the boat."

I choke. Our next door neighbor Mary should know better. "Not true. This is Rob's fault. No one else's." She opens her mouth to argue and I jam a finger in the air. "Not only is this his fault but he's torn down the internet wire, twice. And my garage door. Have you seen my garage door?"

She starts to smile. "I feel really bad."

"Don't," I laugh, "Rob's fault."

Three hours, and several hundred degrees of Florida steamy heat, later the air conditioner guy steps out of his van. The same repairman from last week. I swear if I see him one more time I'll adopt him.

As the boys tromp off to examine the wreckage I get back to work.

"It was a dark and stormy ..."







Friday, September 13, 2013

Lighten Up!: The Guys at Work

Lighten Up!: The Guys at Work: (post copyright 2013, Dawn Weber) Jesus had his disciples, the President consults the Cabinet, and my husband has The Guys At Work. ...