Dearly Beloved and his canine sidekick, Miss Piggy, have returned to the homeplace. They remained at the beach-house-not-on-the-beach when I drove to Charlotte for my dentist appointment a couple of weeks ago. I’d planned to re-join them, but decided it was too darned hot to make that drive again.
I worked on some projects here that are easier without a husband and dog around: polished the hardwoods, sewed, watched movies I knew DB wouldn’t be interested in, even tried a quick diet before my physical this week. He walked daily on the beach, played golf, looked for the Copperhead, and subscribed to the baseball channel.
Although we’d talked and e-mailed at least a dozen times a day, after he came home, DB confessed that he’d been concerned that I hadn’t been blogging. I explained there really hadn’t had anything worth posting, thus confirming his belief that without him, my life is boring and meaningless.
He may have a point.
Yesterday he said he was going for a walk. However, instead of leaving, he kept wandering through the house, from one end to the other, then back and forth again and again. Finally, he came and stood before me.
Jokingly, he said, “I’ve got something you could blog about, but you’d be too embarrassed to tell anyone. You may have wondered what I was doing. I couldn’t find my glasses. I’ve been searching for the last 10 minutes.”
“So, where did you find them?” I asked, looking into his bespectacled eyes.
“Where they are right now. I looked in the mirror.”
So wrong about my being too embarrassed, DB!
As for Miss Piggy, she came back looking shaggy and grubby, so we took her to be groomed yesterday. When I retrieved her in the afternoon, she was all coiffed and sporting a stylish pink print bandana.
This morning she wanted to go with me when I went in the back yard in my daily effort to beat the birds and squirrels to the figs. That was unusual for Miss P, since DB had already taken her for a walk. She doesn’t like the heat.
I idly munched on a fig as I watched her rooting in the grass. Then I realized that she was munching, too.
I yelled, “MISS PIGGY, NO!!!”
She ignored me and stuck her nose back into the grass. I screamed again. DB came out and watched as Miss Piggy finally ambled toward the house.
“Why is she licking her lips?” he asked, even though I knew full well that he’d heard me hollering at the top of my lungs, “DROP THAT TURD!!!”
Jon Stewart often gives a news report, usually about Congress, then shakes his head and says, “There’s just no way you can polish that turd.”
He’s right. But I’ll write about it… you know, now that my life has meaning again.