Until a few minutes ago, I was on top of the world.
And then I came tumbling down.
A couple of my favorite cousins are here visiting.
They have been shooting their Be-be guns and hitting golf balls.
They stopped to come in for some pizza.
I was laying on the floor next to them so they wouldn’t forget that I like the crusts, when Kaden said, “Hey Grandma, what’s the matter with Hunter?”
“What do you mean?” says my mom.
“He didn’t chase our golf balls and run away with them,” says Sean.
You are not going to believe what my mother told them.
I am still reeling.
“Well boys,” she says, “You know, Hunter is getting old. He is fifty-six now.”
“Fifty-six?!” they hollered.
“Fifty-six?!” I howled.
“Yes, in dog years Hunter is fifty-six years old.”
“How old is he in people years?”
“So am I!” said Sean. “I’m eight.”
“So am I!” I barked.
I was not looking forward to the price the girl with the bleached smile was about to quote us.
“Well,” she starts, “We have a room for $350.00. It’s a king with a Jacuzzi and a balcony overlooking the lake. All of our rooms either overlook the lake or our downtown area.”
I knew it.
Sven’s mouth wasn’t working.
“That’s a little steep,” I said. “Anything else?”
“We have another room for $250.00 with two double beds, a balcony and a jacuzzi.”
We just stared at her.
“And there is one with a king that faces the lake, for just $199.00.”
“Anything else?” I say. “Anything cheaper?”
“Well,” she drops her voice, “We have one for $179.00. It’s on this side of the building and it faces the parking lot.”
Life started out briskly the other morning.
Dried poplar leaves twirled a foot above our driveway.
Silhouettes of dark clouds were on the horizon.
“LAST CALL,” read a handwritten sign at the sweet corn stand.
“What?” I thought. “They are flashing the lights on and off already?”
Instead of giving mouth to mouth to my once vibrant impatiens, I ripped them out of the dirt by their long legs and put away their pots.
My Sweet Sven’s calling in life is to gain knowledge. He likes facts.
And so this sentence came out of his perfectly formed lips.
“Hey Millie, did you know that we are going to lose two minutes of daylight every morning and every night this month?”
“It’s already Daylight Savings time?” I gasped.
“What? No. In September we will lose an hour and a half of daylight.”
Because of these harsh words, I, me, Millie Noe, now have a hankering to can my garden.
I don’t mean can it, like kick the can down the road.
I don’t mean can it, like doing the Can-Can.
I mean chop it all up. Put it in jars. Seal the lids shut in a double boiler. And stack them in the pantry.
Which is really weird, because I don’t have a garden. I don’t have a pantry. And I don’t can.