Monday, September 4, 2017

A Labor Da Honey-ism

A honey-ism...On this long weekend most of us try to get in that last camping trip or other favorite outdoor activity. The weather can be contrary this time of year as true summer begins to ebb and fall isn't yet fully upon us. The night are cooler and it's the perfect time to leave the windows open at night...my sweet girl was always wistful this time of year. Being a sun bunny, she loved being outdoors but enjoyed the brilliant colors of fall too.

Our small deck was where she'd spent most of her final time here on earth...and since her passing, I've not been able to cross that threshold...until yesterday. Saturday was spent furiously cleaning the upper level of our condo. I deep cleaned everything in preparation for my upcoming surgeries. I even managed to uncover her elliptical machine (where I'd draped all her coats and light jacket's) and put her clean and folded clothes into the dresser downstairs, along with the assorted foot wear, left scattered in our bedroom and laundry room. These small task took an inordinate amount of time to complete...it was a tearful and heart wrenching experience...and I still cannot bring myself to take down her bathroom robes or the numerous cooking aprons hanging as they always have...it took most of the day and left me in a funk...but honey and I had a rule...you are allowed ONE day on the pity pot...only ONE in any given week, no matter the circumstances.

So...Sunday morning, with her stern whisper in my heart, I set out to complete some of the task I'd been putting off (mending some pant's) and was determined to use our grill to make steaks and chicken for the upcoming week. Returning from the store, I'd prepped the meat and then turned my attention to the pack of needles and thread I'd bought. I couldn't find honey's kit and truthfully just couldn't make myself look very hard. A word here....as a young man, my father had taught us the basics of sewing. Simple stuff...but I'd not actually done any sewing in DECADES. I had a pair of tactical pants that needed a button put back on and a pair of jeans with a broken belt loop. Easy right? I'd certainly thought so....

First off, threading the damn needle itself proved to an exercise in patience worthy of a saint! I didn't remember the holes being that small! After muttering oaths under my breath for nearly twenty minutes...success! I pushed the needle effortlessly through the material and plopped the button right over it...easy peasy...EXCEPT for when I tried to repeat the process....for the next half hour, I poked my damn finger TWICE, broke the thread once and ended up with a fishing spool looking snarl on the backside that I managed to tie down and secure...who's gonna see it, right? The belt loop??? Holy frick'n, mother pucker!!!! :o( Two bent needles, three poked finger's AND a thigh!!! The pant's very nearly went to the grill...I was seriously considering setting them on FIRE! All the while, I swear I could hear faint snickering...my honey would've been rolling. I know she'd have rescued me after the first (maybe the second) blood letting... but she'd have giggled the whole time!

I knew there was a reason I'd outsourced this sorta thing....

So after bandaging my sore fingers, I had two completed (albeit bloodstained) pair of pants repaired...FYI...anybody asks and you can bet there'll be a better tale for the bloodstains than the truth! ;o)

Grilling and the making of the sides (Fried potatoes with onions and garlic sweet peas) was a bittersweet experience. We'd always done these things together...and while I'd enjoyed the meal (I have TON'S of left overs!) it left me melancholy. I'm not much of a drinker...two “girlie” beer's and I've usually had enough...but sipping one as the sun went down, I'd watched the contrails of a high altitude jet and thought of my girl...yes, there where a few tears...but they where mostly from good memories...lot's of them...of similar evenings shared together. Lying on lawn chairs or a blanket on the ground, hand in hand and just...being.
As the stars came out; I realized I'd been staring upwards for some time. The jet was long gone and my tears had dried but the memories of my sweet girl left a warmth in my heart and a wisp of a smile on my face...I feel you baby. Alway and forever my honey...



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