Last week in review

     We were madcap social butterflies last week.


     Usually, the highpoint of our social life is hitting the 4:30 Senior Special at the local cinema, but over the past few days we've inexplicably gone through a succession of art showings, tree lightings, and open houses.
I also managed to throw in some always-therapeutic girlfriend breakfasts and lunches for myself here and there. 

          The official beginning of the holidays in our small town began on Sunday, with a tree lighting ceremony in Gazebo Park and a visit from Santa. We brought Mamie with us, but I soon had her in my arms due to the combination of darkness, number of people, and how easy it would be to squash that tiny dog at your feet.

          The night was cold but clear, and the tree showed up nicely against the night sky. Some enterprising soul had set up a microphone, so the whole town heard each little voice spilling his secrets to Santa. They might want to re-think that next year.

          A few days later I had a festive trip to the vet’s to update Mamie’s shots where I learned one of our backyard ticks had hitched a ride with her, resulting in a diagnosis of anaplasmosis. Fortunately, she’s such a cheese hog the pills are no problem.

          Last week also found me at the repair shop for an oil change. I usually stay and while I was in the waiting room a young man and his grandfather came in and sat by me. Grandpa was one of those men who thought a constant repetition of “excuse me” cancelled out each of the burps he emitted with great regularity.

          I was working my way through my latest murder mystery, but couldn’t help but hear some of their conversation.

          Grandson: “. . . up to employers how they handle it, isn’t it? I mean, why is it okay if some people drink themselves to death and someone else can’t smoke a little weed before work?”

          I’m hoping he wasn’t taking time off that morning from his job as a neurosurgeon.

          And today we decided to set up the artificial tree, which has spent the past year in the shed out back.

The shed where the mice ate through every one of My Guy’s collection of baseball gloves.
Yes, you guessed it –

 









         Good thing we didn’t wait for a warm family moment of decorating with the grandchildren.