The Pease clan had been invited to Patty’s and John’s for supper. Beef tips in mushroom sauce, potatoes, and (I was told) a kid-friendly vegetable for Eli. Patty even made the point of extending a specific invitation to the Wees. She wanted us to bring the puppies.
Steve’s eyes lit up and he rubbed his hands together in glee.
“Ooh! Revenge! Can we get them to pee on HER couch? Or…how about on her BED?”
My husband doesn’t hold a grudge but he finds an inordinate amount of bliss in getting even.
I baked a loaf of cheddar and onion bread to contribute to the meal. We donned coats, scooped up the Pease Wees, and exited the house. Since the pups aren’t completely housebroken (as in… they have at least one accident every blasted day!) I put them down in the driveway so that they could do their ‘business’ before we began the 45 minute ride to the Cormiers’ house, which sits adjacent to their retail business (Kennebec Home Brew Supply) in Farmington.
As I contemplated the appropriateness of that run-on sentence, Josie’s cat Curious (aka ‘Munchkin’, aka ‘Sister-Kitty’) trotted by. Scruffy perked up mid-piddle and pounced in pursuit. I spoke sharply to the dog, but she ignored me. She was focused on tabby, and nothing was going to distract her. As the animals ran into and across the road, I ran after them. Scruffy needed to know that she was not to go near or into the road under any circumstances! As I ran across the snowy driveway, I yelled.
“You GET back here! RIGHT now!” I caught up with her…edged in front, turned her around…started herding her back. And then it happened. I hit a patch of snow-covered ice, my feet shot out to the left, and I came down onto my right arm. Hard. I heard the snap. Felt it in my head. My arm went numb for a brief instant, and then it was afire.
Steven and Eli stared at me, wide-eyed. Steven began to hurry to my side. I was embarrassed. Humiliated.
“I’m fine!” I snapped as I quickly got to my feet…my ears ringing and my vision blurring. But it only took a few seconds for my husband to figure out I wasn’t ‘fine’. He insisted we drive straight to the Franklin Memorial Hospital.
This is the portion of my story where I wish to point out the differences between men and women. Steven is the kindest and most nurturing husband I could ask for. He’s far better at fussing over me than I am at fussing over… anyone. And yet, as we drove to the Emergency Room instead of Patty’s house, he said:
“It’s no wonder you fell… going out in the snow and ice in your slippers, like that.”
Grrrr! They were Crocs. Not slippers.
The next day, Patty brought dishes containing the supper we’d missed sharing with them--all the way to my home in Lexington. She also brought me a pile of magazines. And a bottle of ‘organic dog conditioner’. Yes, now my puppies have ‘product’. Lord, have mercy…
But when I told my best pal Jack about falling on the ice?
“God, you’re an idiot. Could’ve smashed that thick skull of yours on your driveway... and who can afford to waste money on repairing asphalt these days??”
Friend Kay made a meal for the following night, and delivered it. She also volunteered to pick up my daughter at 5:00 a.m. and take Josie to meet the bus so she could help with the Special Olympics at Sugarloaf.
The response from my wonderful co-writer and friend, Saint?
“I feel horrible -- should never have sent you those killer beasts. The curse is working a little faster than I'd figured -- probably because of NO LEASHES.”
Josie-Earl hung laundry, fed puppies and shoveled snow (without complaint!) Colleen said, “Thinking of you & hoping you’re feeling better today! Sending you lots of love & big hugs.”
But my dear mate Grahame in New South Wales?
“Wanna arm wrestle? Betcha $2.00 I'd win, girlie!”
Yes, there’s a definite difference in how a man nurtures a friend, and how a woman does. Yin and yang…the perfect balance. The women ease a burden and bring physical and emotional sustenance—and the men make sure I don’t take myself too seriously. One sex invokes a warm smile…the other, a reluctant snicker.
Yin and Yang... |
Poor girl... I hope your arm is feeling better; smarter. :^)
ReplyDeleteSaint
Of course you slipped. Crocs don't live in snow; they're not used to it. However, far be it for me to rub salt into the wound. Need it for the road.
ReplyDeleteGiggle!
Hello gentlemen. How lovely to see you both.
ReplyDeleteYou clean up good, Saint, when you've got to go out in public, ay?
And CP! What do folks in Oz wear on their feet when they go out in the snow? I have a cane toad purse and a 'roo scrote bag, but neither fit on my feet...
:o)
Kaz
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