Voters Dump the Bad Boyfriend. Will They Get Back Together?

We prefer cozy mysteries, so my husband and I watched one on BritBox instead of following Tuesday’s election results. In this Lynley episode, the killer stays under the radar until halfway through. He inscribes the stigmata on his victims. He captures Detective Inspector Lynley’s girlfriend, who escapes, but decides Lynley’s too risky to be around.

I suppose the American people did something similar in this election when they recognized that the president is like a bad boyfriend: risky, unpredictable. In future episodes, Lynley’s girlfriend will reconsider. Several times.

Hell, we might be back with Trump next week. Possibly next month.

Finding Family at the Dog Shelter

“He looks just like Uncle Harry.” Matt wanted to adopt him. Keep him out of lock-up. He was sure the dog was his shifty uncle come back to life. The eyebrows, Airedale, even Groucho. A born player, the dog flipped on its stomach and begged for attention.

Matt’s sister said, “Then that one is Grandma.” In the corner of the room, a dog growled like Grandma getting started on a lecture. She had the family eyebrows.

“Two, is that too many?” They both looked at Mom.

“Mama and Harry never got along, so yes.”

Two Halloween Dribbles

Spirits abroad, out for a night of fun.

They flitter, glitter, twitter, fritter

Away eternal time, internal rhyme.

Fun.

Fantasy.

Fairy tale. Frivolity gives the heart a rest.

The frog finds a new love interest

In a rom-com twist on SleepingBeautyCinderellaBeauty‘sBeast

And so it goes.

Happily.

Into the ever after.

###

Hallowtide: Hallow e’en, All Saints Day, All Souls Day.

First the e’en,

Light a fire to bring the spirits home,

To brighten the world when all is dark.

When morning comes,

The faithful mingle with saints.

They pray forgiveness for souls lost

While the world settles down to autumn rest.

Daniel Geode

“What are you doing in that coon skin cap, Gavin?”

“Come on.” He led me through aisles crammed with tchachkahs and wild, themed tourist gifts.

Quelle suprise.I love geodes. They hide glinting treasures inside rough grey stone. Once the stone cracks, sharp crystals glint inside.

“Close your eyes.” The hat perched above two crystal eyes, a nose, scattered quartz teeth . “We gotta have Daniel Geode.”

The cashier winked, “You got it.” Gavin dug in his pocket. Not enough dollars, a little change.

My dad gave me $100 before we left. “Don’t spend it all in one place.”

But we did.

Time to Reconnect

Do you remember Tom?

Your eyes are the first to understand. They open wide, drawn to a presence.

His cheeks not pale. Bright red, like the way they were that winter day. Electric day.

The day the snow fell in April.

And you met.

He came with a shovel.

Cleared your sidewalk.

You had cookies and hot chocolate together.

The steam rose wet in the frigid air.

Before he was your husband, walking boot deep in fluffy snow.

Tom. Laughing at unexpected falling flakes. Catching them in his mouth.

Living life to the end.

The last word goes to Tom.

I Saw Strength and Sorrow in My Grandmother’s Art.

I try to imagine my grandmother’s life. When I met her in 1970, she was living outside of Jackson, Michigan. My father hadn’t seen her since he was five. I have one picture of her sitting between my parents, with my sister, under a watercolor of bare-masted boats and impressionist water. I thought she’d painted it. She showed us hers, smaller, unframed.

Calm, I can’t imagine that her life started that way. She bore twenty children; spent years in a mental hospital. Beginning in 1933, she lost her children; her world changed. I try to imagine, but it’s really hard.

He’s Got to Pull His Weight

I was excited when this half-grown border collie came up the driveway, then I got worried. I told Pa, “Could be a working dog. They herd sheep.”

“We ain’t got no sheep.”

“Cows, maybe?”

“Don’t need no dog. Give him to John, he’s got sheep.”

I’ve been asking for a dog since forever. “Might scare…”

The dog sticks his nose in the air. Something’s rustling in the corn and out comes a big ol’ raccoon. The dog’s carrying on to beat the band and, miracle of miracles, chases that raccoon clean away.

“Reckon he’ll do.”

High praise from my dad.

Friendship

I remember the motorcycle he rode.

I remember sneaking off with him when he was sixteen. I was fourteen, full of elaborate excuses; girlfriends who vouched for me. Wind in my face, the noise, the leather jacket and the helmet. I saved up, hid them at his house.

I remember when he told me he was gay.

I remember how cool I played it. “I wondered,” I said. I thought, what were the chances he was wrong?

I remember every unworthy person he dated. I’d ask him, “Are you sure? What do you see?”

He’d say, “You’re my best friend.”

Irresistible Impulse

Photo by Alexander Popadin on Pexels.com

He said- You said, Yes.

She said- I said, not yet. Another time. A later time.

He said- But your eyes said yes

She said- My eyes don’t speak for me.

He said- Your eyes speak to me.

She said- Looks can deceive.

He said- So you admit it? You lied. Those gorgeous blue eyes lied?

She said- You should have known. You should have asked, clarified, not taken things at face value.

He said- Whatever. Now we have this adorable cat.

She said- This purring cat, we’re cat parents now.

He said- I’m a sucker for gorgeous blue eyes.

Clancy Hits It Home

Clancy struck out for the third time. He was distraught. The love of his life had left with the ballboy that morning. He hadn’t seen it coming. Like that ball he’d missed by just a hair.

“A hair,” his coach said. “More like a country mile. Go get your eyes examined.”

Clancy made an appointment. The optometrist told him that with his vision it was a miracle he’d ever hit a ball. She also made the observation that his girlfriend needed glasses. And she said yes when he asked her out for dinner. He only hit home runs after that.

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