Sunday, August 5, 2012

Happy Birthday, Dear Durwood, Happy Birthday To You!

Guess what day it is?  It's my beloved Durwood's 73rd birthday.  He's the same crazy goofball that I married lo these many years ago and still the only person I want to spend a 2-week car ride with.  Oh, I lose patience with him every once in a while.  I can only imagine that he loses his with me far more frequently.  But his is still the voice I love to hear when I pick up the phone at work.  I've made Mother Malcolm's Coffeecake to take along for dessert at Family Supper later which is what he said his favorite dessert is.  He couldn't resist cutting into the least attractive coffeecake this morning (saving the better looking ones to share) for his breakfast and said that I hadn't used enough brown sugar.  Hmph, I was sure I'd put in the right amount (you just grab some out of the canister and sprinkle, same with the cinnamon) but the birthday boy is the decider so I whipped up some caramel glaze to drizzle over them.  I think this might be the first time in all the times (probably close to 50) I've made this that I've put frosting on it.  Can't hurt.  I talked to my cousin out in Yellowstone yesterday and got lots of travel tips (like that the Beartooth Highway between Billings and Silvergate, Montana is the prettiest in the States and the Lamarr Valley when we first enter Yellowstone is the best place to see wolves and the buffalo are in rut which should be very interesting) and made arrangements to meet him for supper the night we arrive.  The coolest thing is he's hoping to take a day off while we're there and tour around with us for the day.  I'm sure he knows all the best stuff to see, and maybe a secret spot or two.  Now I'm more excited than trepidatious about going.  Oh, don't be concerned, this is my normal "week before we go" silliness.  I'll dither around in a mild panic all week, flitting from pillar to post, mentally packing and trying to make sure that everything's just right, nothing left to chance, and then be okay once we're a few miles from home.  Buffalo!  Starlight!  Wolves!  I'm hoping that I'll be able to find Wi-Fi so I can post a bit but if it's quiet I know you'll understand.

August 5 -- Herman, Paul, and Jean de Limbourg, Saint Eustace Loses His Sons.  "The poor son of a bitch."  Gina looked at her husband.  "What, Ernie?  Who?"  Ernie gestured toward the framed page.  "This guy.  He's stuck in a stream, a wolf is carrying off one kid and a lion's munching away on the other.  He should be angry but he's smiling away."  He shook his head.  "See the light coming from the sky?"  She nodded.  Ernie went on, "They call that "God light.  Looks like a UFO to me.  Besides what loving God takes a man's sons?  Huh?"  She put her hand on his arm.  "So why do you say he's a poor SOB?"  She couldn't bring herself to say the words.  He hitched up his pants and turned away.  "Because he's stuck and his kids are both dead and there he is smiling, not knowing that his world is destroyed.  People are fools about religion."  Gina stood looking at him walk into the next gallery.  They'd been married for 35 years and he could still surprise her.

I have an almost irresistible urge to go spend an expiring coupon at JoAnn Fabrics but I'm going to try to resist.  Maybe if I go cast on a dishtowel that'll help.  I'm ripping an audiobook version of To Kill A Mockingbird so I can plonk it onto my Kindle and take it with me.  Maybe I'll see if I can't zoop over the manuscript that I want to work on at The Clearing next month.  Anyway, I'm outta here.

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