Tuesday, October 12, 2010

Every oncst in a whiyul, I actually live my life the way that it’s supposed to be lived.

Liked they’d draw it up in the back room, as it were.

On Friday, there was no work for me. I had a four-day weekend ahead o’ me.

I took the day to take a train out to the distant, distant exurbs to pick up a motorcycle on which repair work had [ostensibly] been completed. That didn’t go well [once up to 70 on the highway, it began lurching. I feel the wet-plate clutch was slipping from the new oil. Bad. . . . but I digress], but I kept my positive frame o’ mind.

When I got home, I took the girlfriend on a long drive to a nearby Olde Towne in a nearby Civil War ‘burg – home o’ the ex-wife, if ya must know -- and I proceeded to walk through the downtown with her, awaiting our late supper at a tapas bar. Had a delightful time – she got some killer sushi-grade tuna “lollipops.” I avoided vomiting from the thought, and concentrated on my coffee. But it was a beautiful night.

The next morning, we awoke without a crowded agenda. I got her into her new helmet, and we were off on the other motorcycle. Into a different little old town we went, to a local diner. The kind of place where they ask if you need menus [assuming you don’t], and where they went out the day before to pick the fruit they’re about to cook into your flapjacks. Where they deep-fry the Home Fries. And where the coffee is better than anything you’ve ever tasted.

I felt like I was in Pleasantville.

From there, a winding motorcycle ride through the Ohio


East Coast countryside.

Sunday? Off to an AA meeting that I currently preside over as temporary head geek. But this time with girlfriend in tow. She called family members whilst I had a great meeting. Then, off to visit demented mama, where demented mama was in fine spirits and form. She played soccer with me, using a wadded up piece o’ paper.

87-yr.-old lady running down hall, cackling, kicking a wad o’ paper [Chaplin Defense!].

Running down the hall using a walker.

The girlfriend and I enjoyed ourselves.

Then, off for oysters on the halfshell at our finest local establishment, followed by a flick [the very same fillum reviewed by Jean Siskill over the weekend].

Then I spent a day hanging out with my daughter. Details withheld, but delightful and fun and relaxed.

This is too fucking mundane for me to even believe that I’m hitting “post.”

But it’s mundane stuff like this that makes life worth living.

I wish I’d known that twenty years ago. . . .

1 comment:

thingy said...

It was not mundane, but lovely to read. Okay, it was mundane, but, still lovely. : )