Hump Day

You have my permission to do whatever necessary to get over the hump today.

Sept. 30--Write about a rendezvous--"There's nothing clandestine about this, Phoebe, so stop saying we're headed for a rendezvous." Gladys stared straight out the windshield frowning at her friend's remark. "Oh, Glady, you're suck a stickler for using just the right word. Don't you think rendezvous sounds better than meeting?" "I'm not a stickler," Gladys said, the bunch of fake cherries on her hat quivering with emotion, "I am precise." Phoebe waved a small hand, which was encased in a white lace glove with a starched ruffle at the wrist, as if shooing away a fly. "I'll bet Mr. Harlow and Mr. Turner are thinking that there's more going to happen today than a mere meeting. I could tell from their note and phone message." She reached up and patted her white curls, wishing she had thought to wear her hat with the violets on it. She thought that rich purple made her eyes look lavender like Elizabeth Taylor's had in Cleopatra. "Why didn't you say you were wearing a hat, Glady? I feel a bit underdressed now. You're making a play for the richer of the two, aren't you?" Gladys glanced at her. "Did you stop taking your pills again? What do I want with an old codger who's only looking for a nurse? I'm just the driver, Miss No-License." Tears sprang to Phoebe's eyes. "What a thing to say. As if I stopped driving on purpose." Gladys steered the sedan into the Denny's parking lot at 4:30 on the dot. Two gray-haired men waited near the door, one standing holding a cane, the other in a wheelchair. Shaking the quarter in her hand, Phoebe turned to Gladys as she parked the car. "Heads or tails? Whoever wins the flip gets to choose." Gladys shook her head. "No, honey, you go ahead. I know how you like a man with expensive wheels." The old friends laughed, got out of the car, and walked up to meet their blind dates.

So ends September. Let's hope October brings inspiration and motivation.
--Barbara