Pretty good weekend here. I’m feeling mostly normal now, two weeks removed from my surgery. Tested my limits a few times (picked up a package of bottled waters; did some yard work) and felt good!
Saturday was a cool day. I’ll tell you why.
I woke up at a decent hour and went and did the recycling, took the dog with me. We then went and got some tortillas for breakfast. Came home and I fired out an epic Country Breakfast on the flat-top. Scrambled eggs, sausage, breakfast potatoes, bacon… so good!
After breakfast I mowed half the yard, then I watched KSU lose their home opener (I love it when KSU loses football games… and it was also an exciting game.) The girls had hair appointments, so Bub and I would be on our own for a bit. What to do?
We took it easy and just went for a cruise in the Impala, to Sonic. Got lunch, drove around a little bit. I could tell Boyd was getting a little sleepy. By the time I pulled in to the house, he was OUT. I left the windows down, snuck out, and let him sleep right there while I got comfortable at the HOJ.
Girls are doing good at the hair appointment? Boyd is doing good, taking a nap in the Impala? The weather was perfect, there was this layer of clouds that move in, and it was cool, overcast…
I did what any man would do at that moment. I took off my T-shirt, cracked open a beer and played 7810 on the jukebox. Then I heard the thump-thump-thump of a Chinook helicopter. I walked outside the HOJ in time to see two Chinooks following each other, low, flying right at me. Soundgarden’s “Day I tried to live” started playing on the jukebox. I threw my hands in the air, impressed by the moment.
And then suddenly I was soaked in sunlight. There was one little hole in the clouds… and it was beaming on me.
I’m not the most spiritual person in the world, but at that moment I waved at my parents, I thanked God, I threw a first in the air to Allah, you name it. AWESOME. I felt so… alive.
I sat down with an Iron Man comic from 1975. Cold beer, good music, perfect weather, son sleeping peacefully in the Impala 10 feet from me… all was right in my world. I got to page two… looked up… saw my neighbor the Cowboy on his horse in the field across the road. Gave him a wave. He waved back, and rode over…
We chatted for about 20 minutes or so. Nice guy. We don’t have a lot in common (interests, politics, etc.) but I like him and I know he’d give me the shirt off his back if I needed it. We wrapped it up and he rode off.
I got a new beer (keep in mind I’m on beer # 2 at this point, so the sunbeam wasn’t me just hammered or something) and sit back down. Start back up on Iron Man. Weird comic. Make it about three more pages. And a white Mustang pulls into my drive.
It’s another neighbor, Matthew, I think? Bill’s son. He paints cars. Wanted to show me his new project. It looked nice! We walked around this Mustang three, four times and agreed how nice it looked. At one point I saw Boyd pop his head up; he saw me, closed his eyes and fell back asleep…
Matthew and I wrapped up. Grabbed beer # 3. Went back to the lawn chair. Sat down. Read the most bizarre nonsensical Iron Man comic to the next-to-last page. And then Boyd woke up.
It was a memorable Saturday afternoon. And I didn’t even mention the Mittens story, or the new pigs the neighbors have…
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