In That Limbo Land...

... between being at home and going on vacation.  Today I managed to accomplish a couple more things on my dwindling list--went to the bank for walking around money, got an airplane-safe yarn cutter, dug out some anklet sweat socks to use to protect my camera lenses in my carry-on bag.


I had a session with T the Trainer this morning, the last one for two weeks, because he won't be in Wyoming even if there's a Y anywhere near where we'll be, which I don't think there is.  I am taking along a yoga mat so that I'll be able to yog in the morning without writhing around on a dusty tile floor.


The hummingbird came for a snack and I couldn't resist getting more photos and I insist on sharing one with you.  I dug out a much bigger nectar feeder and made 2 cups of sugar water then hung it outside around dusk.  I hope the morning relay of hummers figures out that the new feeder is for them.  They're such creatures of habit.  One year I moved the crook a few inches and watched an early visitor stop at the exact spot and elevation where the feeder used to be.  My jaw dropped.  Good thing Durwood was watching too so someone believed me.



This chipmunk had a lot to say this morning.  It sat on the step outside the patio door chirping over and over until I lost patience and knocked on the glass to shut it up.  It moved to the top of the Adirondack chair to continue its serenade or newscast or rant.  Goofy thing.

Remember I said that I went to Joanne for an airplane safe yarn cutter up in the first paragraph?  Well, that wasn't the only thing I bought.  (big surprise, I know)  I also had a yard of swimsuit lining on my list but then I turned down the aisle where the performance fabrics are but had to pass the bolts of flannel first.  I found a photo of a flannel shirt made with a small plaid and big plaid of the same colors and really liked it so I've been looking for matching or coordinating plaids for a couple years.  Today I found these.  I got the same amount of each so that I can decide later if I want to make a big plaid dress with small plaid sleeves or vice versa.  Red, black, and white--my three favorite colors.



This afternoon I knitted a few rows on Car Knitting Warshrag #15 so that it's got some length on it when I next pull it out to knit on the bridge, in a waiting room, or at a meeting.



Then I went over to HH's house/yard to knit for an hour or so and added a few rounds to the Choco Rainbow Sock that will be my airplane and vacation knitting.  Man, I love the way this yarn looks in this pattern.

22 August--Barbara Malcolm,  Horizon. 

Just as I’d suspected, the news that Abel had spent the night at my place had traveled all over town before the last snowplow had finished clearing the roads.  When I came in from snow-blowing my walk and driveway the phone was ringing.  And it kept ringing all day long and into the evening.

Clara’s was the first call I caught.  It was short and to the point.

“Got the pot on?” she asked.

“I can put it on,” I said. 

“Great,” she said, “I’m strapping on my snowshoes.”  And she hung up.

That meant I had about ten minutes to get the coffee made and get ready for the first interrogation.  I dearly loved Clara but one of her faults was the inability to keep a secret.  That was why our heart to hearts had always been more of her heart and less of mine.  I knew that most of  what I said to her would hit the grapevine as soon as she got home, so I had to decide, as always, what I wanted to whole town to hear.

I hadn’t even finished making the coffee when the phone rang again.  It was Mavis, the town beautician and chief gossip.  She said she was calling to see if I wanted to take advantage of her mid-winter haircut special but I could tell by her tone of voice that she had already heard a rumor and was hoping for a scoop.

In a town the size of Kingman, gossip was coin of the realm.  It was the grease that kept the wheels moving.  The base of power didn’t lie in the elected town officials, it was held by the woman with the sharpest ears and fastest tongue.

Mavis deserved her spot at the top of the grapevine.  Her living room beauty shop had been “gossip central” for over thirty years.  Mavis’ strong fingers and sympathetic eyes were masters at pulling out things you weren’t sure you wanted to share while she massaged your scalp, resistance was lowered by the soothing scent of the shampoo, and the whine of the hair dryers gave an air of the confessional to the room, making you feel like no one could hear you.

On the positive side, sharing news at Mavis’ meant you only had to tell things once.  On the negative side, Mavis and her “stringers” had big reputations to uphold.  They were not above embroidering a chance remark into something more sensational.

Friendships had been made, broken, and mended under the washed-out aqua of those beautician’s drapes.  Every stage of life from puberty to menopause had been discussed and survived.  Divorces were diverted or dissected, and many a straying spouse found his carefully constructed web of lies unable to withstand Mavis’ scrutiny.  Her beauty shop was the castle of power in Kingman and Mavis was the queen.

            It had been nearly a year since I’d gotten a haircut there and I was sure her nose was out of joint that I had a new look and hadn’t gone to her for it.  I thanked her politely for her call and told her I’d pass on the offer.  She didn’t miss a beat.  She asked if I’d been doing anything interesting lately, the word “interesting” coyly emphasized.  I said not really, just painting, both watercolors and the rooms of the house.  That launched a series of questions about my redecorating; she’d obviously heard I’d given away all my living room furniture and bought new.  And I wouldn’t be surprised if her spies hadn’t learned that I had new dishes too.  It took some time, and the promise of a visit, but I finally managed to get off the phone.

            By that time I could hear Clara coming up the back steps, stamping the snow off her boots.  The porch door opened and she called out a greeting while hanging up her jacket.

            “Perfect timing,” I said, hearing the gurgling that signaled the end of the brewing.  “Want some coffee cake to go with it?  I could thaw some out.”

            She came over to the counter, nudged me with her elbow, and said, “I want the news.”

            We carried our coffee mugs to the table and sat down in our usual places.  “What news?  It’s been snowing; there’s nothing new.”

            “Don’t tease me, Gail.  You know I’m dying of curiosity, so tell.”

            “There’s really nothing to tell.  Abel and I went to our separate beds shortly after you and Hank left.  We had breakfast together and he left.  That’s it.”

            “That’s it?  That can’t be it.  I see the way he looks at you when he thinks no one’s looking.  Come on, Gail, I’m your oldest friend.  I deserve more than that sanitized version of what happened when you spent the night with a man who’s not your husband.”

            I had to laugh.  “Clara, there really isn’t much more to tell.  He kissed me and I have to admit I kissed him back.  Sorry to be such a disappointment.”

            “He kissed you?  A lot?  Is he a good kisser?”  Clara’s eyes shone and she leaned toward me, looking hard at my eyes as if she could read what had really occurred if she looked close enough.

            “Yeah, he’s a pretty good kisser.  But a telemarketer interrupted us and I guess the impulse passed.  Then he went home.”  She looked unconvinced.  “I swear, Clara, nothing else happened.”

            “Okay, if you say so.”  A sly look shaded her eyes.  “But I heard Abel was real hot when he was going with Dottie Swanson a few years back and I don’t think a goodbye kitchen kiss would be enough to earn him that reputation.  Come on, Gail, give.”

            “Honestly, there’s nothing more to tell.  Abel was a perfect gentleman.”  I could feel my face turning red.

            “Ha!  You’re blushing.  Something else did happen.  I knew it.”  While she was peppering me with questions, she walked over, picked up the coffee pot, and filled our mugs, even though neither of us had drunk more than half.  “Did he get fresh?  Sneak into your bedroom offering to warm you up?  What?”  She sat back down looking pleased with herself.

            “Well, I have to admit it, he’s a really good kisser.  And until the phone rang, I might have been willing to go further than one kiss standing in the kitchen.”  I stopped and put my hand on her arm.  “You have to promise me you’ll only tell people that we kissed.  Once.  You can waggle your eyebrows at everyone like you know more but are sworn to secrecy.  Promise?”

            Her eyes got big and she stopped blinking.  “I absolutely promise.  Cross my heart.”  And she solemnly made a cross over the left side of her sweater.

            I took a deep breath and continued.  “Well, I woke up every time he got up to tend the fire, thinking he might be coming into the bedroom.  And then I thought maybe I’d just go out there and attack him on the couch.  But I chickened out.”  Both of us sighed at my lost opportunity.  “Then when I got up this morning, I forgot he was here and went into the kitchen looking like the wrath of God.”

            Clara moaned right along with me at the thought of a new man seeing us first thing in the morning.  “What did he do?”

            “Well, he looked all bright and cheerful, like he’d been up for hours and had taken a shower.  I have to admit I wasn’t prepared for him to look so good.  Anyway, he gave me a cup of coffee, and I turned right around and hid in the bathroom to take a shower and try to erase that picture from his mind.  I even thought about putting on make-up but decided it would be too obvious and forward.”  My throat was getting dry from all the talking so I took a sip of my nearly cold coffee.

            “Go on, go on.”

            “When I came out looking more presentable he seemed more interested in watching the chickadees at the feeder, so I made us some oatmeal for breakfast.”  Just then, the phone rang.

“I’ll bet it’s one of Mavis’ spies,” Clara said.

I walked over and picked it up.  “Hello?  Oh, hi, Abel.”  I heard a sound behind me and turned to see Clara wiping up the coffee she’d spit out.  “How was your ride home?”

“It was fine.  The roads are mostly cleared,” he said.

“Good.”

“What are you doing right now?”

“Oh, Clara’s over and we’re having coffee.”

Abel’s warm chuckle came down the wire.  “I suppose this is just the beginning of the All-Kingman inquisition?”

“Yes it is.”  I was trying to keep a straight face but didn’t think I was doing a very good job so I turned my back to the kitchen.

“I’ll let you go then.  Let me know if the cats become unbearable and I’ll knock a few heads together.”

Now I did laugh.  “Okay, good.”

“Are we still on for the weekend?”

A warm thrill crept up my spine at the idea of seeing him again so soon.  “Yep, I’ll see you Saturday.”

“Unless we get an even bigger storm, I guess.  Of course, I’d be more than willing to come over and keep your fire lit.”

“Oh really?  Well, we’ll see about that.  I’ll see you Saturday.”

“Bye, Gail.  Stay warm.”

“You too, Abel.  Bye.”

When I got back to the table, Clara looked even more avid than she had before, if that’s possible.  “Well?  What did he say?”

“He just said he got home okay.  I’d asked him to call me.  And made sure we still have a date for Saturday night.”  For the first time since Abel and I had started going out, that word hit me.  “Oh my God, Clara, I’m dating.”

“I know, Gail.”  She sat back with a smug smile on her face.  “You and Romeo are the talk of town.”

That was not a happy thought.  I’d known that tongues were wagging when I took up painting, changed my clothes and hair, but remembering the catty remarks that had flown around when other widows had started rebuilding their lives, made me wish I lived somewhere else.  Somewhere instead of this small, rural town where nothing exciting happened, so people talked about other people’s lives like they were soap operas.  I had always liked the warmth and neighborliness of living in Kingman, but now I wanted to be anonymous.

I know this is going to send you into a tailspin but this is my last blog entry until September 7.  I fly away on Saturday and am taking this laptop into the fixit shop tomorrow because I think it has a virus or maybe a brain lesion.  It's slow to respond and the scroll bars are blinky.  Not good.  I promise to try to remember to share a few photos on Facebook and Instagram over the next couple weeks and I also promise not to get caught in a bison stampede (three friends sent me the video today), won't try to ride one, and will not attempt to pet a grizzly bear.  Cross my heart.  I'll miss your daily comments, you all.  See you in a couple weeks.  (When I get home, I'll pick up Horizon where I leave off too, I promise. That's why I put on an extra-long piece of it tonight.)  Bye for a bit!
--Barbara