But on the other hand, sometimes truth is just truth and it’s normal everyday stuff. I’m not sure which one my life is, even though it seems strange to me, the strangeness might be so many tiny little oddities that arent’s so odd on their own, but all put together make one big patchwork quilt of weird.
The thoughts all started yesterday, when I went to see a friend who offered a haircut in exchange for my excellent (yes they are, I’m not shy of admitting it) mojitos. It’s all about the ingredients. Don’t be stingy with the mint and it needs to be real and fresh. Bar mojitos are stingy with the mint because they have to buy the stuff and are fearful that everyone in town will want one because it got up to 102 and it’s Saturday so they all did yardwork. So if you go to The Millhouse and order one the bartender’s like “Um…ok but just one because we have a limited supply of mint.” and then it comes with a single leaf on top. I, on the other hand, do not have a limited supply and probably should sell it to the local establishments. Thus, my mojitos are delicious and generous with the mint.
Where was I? Oh yeah, haircut and friends. So I went to get the haircut (an excellent exchange, btw, as she does an amazing job) and her boyfriend was there. I knew this immediately even though I’d never met him because there was a truck in the driveway that DEFINITELY wasn’t hers. See, she’s short and Mexican-by-way-of-Minnesota. This truck was Pure Unadulterated South Georgia- huge, mud tires, red, hunting club numbers on the back, and Mossy Oak trimwork down the side. Definitely not Minnesota Mexican. While I’m not sure how one such as her winds up with one such as him, no questions because she’s talented like that. When I got in, he had apparently decided to cook because the kitchen was full of Manly Foods like perfectly cooked ribs and a boston butt. And him, drinking a beer with that calm look South Georgia Men With Big Trucks can have.
Oh man, the ribs. I proceeded to eat one. Ok 2. Ok several. Then picked at the edges of a few more. Because they were…well. My friend and another friend poked fun at me for how happy-making those ribs were. It was one of those unexpected delights in the middle of an ordinary Saturday that started out with ordinary biscuits and discovering the half-and-half had gone blinky.
While I was busy with haircuts and ribs, David (#2) and Girlfriend (I need to come up with a name for her) (Maybe something like He’d Better Marry Her, or Would You Please Marry Her, or Do You Want Me To Pay The Fees) decided they wanted to do yard work, and since they don’t have a yard and I do, came and did my yard. All nearly-an-acre of it. Weeding, mowing, trimming, all that. Then she decided to make chicken salad, a big bowl of it. Then she decided to clean up the kitchen. All of it. Girlfriend’s got more hours in her day than I do. Also energy. And she wants to come back today and finish up before it gets too hot. Who am I to argue? I’m not going to argue.
Also this weekend a friend and her kids are here. They show up regularly and I keep the guest room ready because I never really know until maybe a couple of hours prior that they’re coming. Which is fine, they don’t require entertaining beyond a bucket of legos, some drawing paper, and a place to charge her phone. I’ve never had such spontaneous company before. It’s strange to me, but in a nice way. I’m thankful someone is comfortable here enough to do that. But it is peculiar to have my house go from being empty of everyone but me and dogs, to being full of all these people, doing cutting grass and eating peanut butter and rattling around with the toys that haven’t been touched in years. Maybe it’s practice for grandbabies.
My life is so different. It’s not as calm and steady as it once was. I remember very clearly thinking, about 3 years ago, “This is too steady and predictable. It won’t last.” and knowing that was true, but not having any idea what would change. So much has changed that nearly everything seems new. School seems new. 7 months into it and it still seems new. I still get a little excited pulling into the parking lot and sitting down at the table. Deciding what to cook (and when, or if, even) without input or any sort of commentary seems strange still- but then 28 years of cooking for several will do that. Dropping everything and going to a friend’s, without telling anyone beyond “I’m doing this”, and not having to give an itinerary, then eating someone else’s excellent ribs and not worrying about ruining my dinner…coming home and finding all the work done…having many people of all sizes and no one wondering when they’ll leave…all so very, very different and strange. But I am getting used to it. It’s not BAD strange, just different strange. My life has taken on a completely different
rhthym r ythym dangit how do you spell that..rhythm (there we go), totally different song entirely…like even the genre is different. It went from being a smooth 2 person waltz to maybe more like an individual on a dance floor, flailing away to her own private beat, and not really caring too much what other people think of it.