Thursday, February 23, 2012

The Sound of Piledrivers

That's what we awake to these days. They're redoing the highway barely a mile away and they use the pile driver in the morning. Wasn't there a line in that Vietnam movie about... no, that was napalm. Sorry got my heavy equipment mixed up. (Oop, I just heard Durwood cock the BB gun, must be a pesky squirrel has found the sunbutter in the birdie tree.) I think they're making roundabouts where the on and off ramps are on Hwy. 41 through town. Durwood hates them but I think, once people learn to use them, they keep things moving along. I like 'em. We don't talk about them. We don't talk about a lot of political stuff either since I'm a real moderate and he's... not. I study what people say they'll do and how they conduct themselves and vote that way, he pretty much votes the party line. Oh well, I remember Grandma & Grandpa Stephan talking about cancelling out either others' votes in nearly every election. We could do worse than be like them; I really loved them. Still do, I'm sitting here smiling remembering how he smelled like cigar smoke and sawdust, and wore a driving cap for everyday but a hand-tied bow tie when he dressed up in a suit and crisp white shirt, and he looked fabulous. She was a blond flapper with a wicked sense of humor who never "got" clean jokes, always looked pretty, had smooth, soft skin, and made the best chicken & slickers I've ever eaten. (Slickers are wide, short, flat noodles.) I remember her combing her hair and putting on fresh lipstick just before he came home from work, and that they kissed a lot and he patted her fanny. She'd say, "Oh, Hack, " slap his hand away, and then they'd kiss again. I liked it. I could go on and on but then I'd miss breakfast and my chiro appointment. I'm glad I dredged up these memories for us to remember, you find some about your grandparents too. Start your day smiling.

February 22--Daniel Pabst, Cabinet. Emma tucked her book behind the cabinet door and closed it so softly there wasn't a click. She didn't think Michael checked the contents of that cabinet often. Her secret should be safe. It was hard for her to get used to living under Michael's rules. Her parents had been liberals, raising their children with freedom of ideas. "Libertines" Micheal called them when she protested that his narrow demands chafed. Most of the time she lived happily within his world but at other times she yearned for broader, less restricted thoughts and ideas.

Eesh, I'm not liking that Michael guy one bit and why doesn't Emma run away? Haven't got a clue. We've got a 30% chance of having snow tonight and tomorrow. I almost hope it does snow just to cove up the boring, brown grass. Have a day!


Aunt B said...

What a great little story about mother and daddy. They really were a cute couple -- truly! So glad you still have that Girl Graduate book of hers. There's a neat book I got at the library "The Scrapbook of Frankie Pratt" that reminded me so much of it. It's a fun book/story -- full of epherema -- one reviewer said it is "lighter than light" but it's an easy read. Check it out sometime -- you can read it in an afternoon.

Aunt B said...

P.S. This has nothing to do with today's blog but wanted to tell you I thought about DS and DIL yesterday when I was watching one of my favorite shows -- "Top Chef" and they were at Whistler's in BC. It looked really beautiful so no wonder they love going there. Also -- I still expect to see her someday as one of the contestants on Top Chef!