Easter morning 2013. I was driving across North Carolina when my cell phone rang. It was my buddy Ed up in New Jersey, who I had not seen for over a year. Last time I was there he said I could not stay at his house anymore... at least for the time being. I had been too often, his wife was tired of me, I snore too loudly, etc., etc.
"Ed," I answered cheerfully. "Happy Easter to you. Is Peter Cottontail hopping down your bunny trail."
I heard deep, sorrowful moaning and then crying on the other end of the phone. "How could you say something like that to me? Oh my God! What am I going to do?"
"Ed, is everything OK?"
"No, definitely not OK. The Artful Dodger is dead."
"No surprise considering how long ago Oliver Twist was written."
"Bill, I'm talking about our pet bunny rabbit. You know, the Artful Dodger!"
"Oh, was that the name of your rabbit? He was always hiding when I came over."
"He was the house rabbit. The house bunny. And we loved him so." Ed was slurring his words.
"Ed, have you been drinking?"
"Indeedy I have, and all night long. The Artful Dodger is dead! You hear what I'm telling you? Deceased. Pushing up daisies. Breathing dirt. Stiff as a board. You get it?"
"Yes, a dead bunny."
"Dead as a freakin' doornail. Gone, goodbye, rest in peace." Ed let out a long, loud whistle. "Right up to bunny heaven. I'm drunk, or rather, I am drinking because I don't want to think about what Diane will say."
"She doesn't know yet?" I asked.
"She and the kids are in Oregon visiting her folks. She is gonna kill me when she finds out I let him die."
"What exactly happened?"
"Someone gave him a poisoned carrot."
"Seriously?"
There was a long pause. Then Ed said, "I really have no idea, I was just jumping at the most irrational explanation possible. You follow?"
"Not really."
"Bill, what the hell am I going to do? The Artful Dodger died!"
I tried to take a motivational tone. "You move on with your life. You pull yourself up by your bootstraps and you go forward. You splash some cold water on your face and look in the mirror and say Yes I Can!"
Ed whimpered on the other end of the line. "But my bunny rabbit is dead. The Artful Dodger is gone forever."
"You really do miss him, don't you?"
"Yes, but the real crap is that Diane is going to call me a murderer. A bunny killer! She'll never forgive me in a million years. The Artful Dodger died on my watch!"
I kept on talking to Ed til my cell phone battery ran out. By the end of our conversation, he was starting to get sleepy anyhow.
So my take is that one bunny rabbit died last night in New Jersey. And another rabbit rose early this morning to deliver Easter eggs to children worldwide. You can't keep a good bunny down.
Sunday, March 31, 2013
Monday, March 25, 2013
DEADLY STORM AND SANDWICHES
"Mrs. Sherman, I really can't talk to you right now," I said urgently into my cell phone.
"Was it something I said?" she asked, her voice sounding hurt through the phone. She is my favorite driving customer, but she calls me frequently and this was very bad timing.
"No ma'am, always happy to talk to you, glad when you call me. But I'm driving in some pretty hazardous conditions, so I need both hands on the wheel."
"Oh Bill, you should never call me on your cell phone, especially not when driving in poor road conditions."
I paused. She had called me, as usual. "Talk to you soon, Mrs. Sherman." I hung up and dropped my phone in my lap. I was driving through Massachusetts on my way to New Hampshire to deliver a car. It was a tiny car, the first SMART car I had ever driven. But this one had two scooters attached to the back of it, the kind of motorized carts that elderly people ride around on. The scooters were rather precariously attached by a trailer hitch that was little more than an aluminum tray, and they wobbled like crazy.
The worst thing was the weather I was dealing with. Here it is near the end of March, and I thought all the bad winter weather was over with. But the storm I was driving through now was by far the most terrible weather I had ever had the displeasure to drive through in my life. It made the drive I made in Ohio back in January seem like a day in the park, a comparatively simple task. There was at least four feet of snow on the ground, the roads were iced over, the snow was coming down like a blizzard, and the winds were blowing 70 mph. Each time a good gust hit the car, it would begin to slip and slide on the ice. And the two heavy scooters on back made the tiny vehicle I was driving extremely unstable.
My cell phone rang again, and I looked down to identify the number calling. It was the lady I was going to see, Mrs. O'Halloran. She had been calling me once an hour ever since I left New Orleans, asking where I was and when I'd get there. I was less than an hour from her house, and I was not going to pick up the phone again for anything.
It was just over an hour later when I pulled into her driveway. She came out of the garage, pointing her finger at me and speaking in a scolding voice. She had a lot of spunk for an old woman. "Where have you been? Why didn't you answer my phone call?"
"Hello, Mrs. O'Halloran. I was driving in some seriously bad weather, and felt it would be unsafe to talk on the phone. But I'm here, and your car is here, all safe and sound."
"Well." She let out a sigh. "Well, OK, you're right. The car is here, that's the important thing. But where is the tarp I had covering the scooters?"
"I don't think you had it tied down very well. It blew off about 100 miles ago."
"Oh, that's a shame. Well, come on in the house for a cup of coffee."
"No thanks, I just need you to sign the paperwork here."
She stared at me long and hard. "I asked you to come into my kitchen for a cup of coffee."
"I really do appreciate the offer, but I have to get moving to catch my bus to the airport."
She put her hands on her hips, looking disgusted. "Listen to me, if you want me to sign your paperwork then you will come in and be gracious enough to accept a cup of coffee. Otherwise, I'm not signing anything."
I had no choice at this point but to follow her inside. No customer signature, no paycheck for me. The fact is that coffee can sometimes play fast and loose with my stomach, so I was trying to think of a way out of it. "Mrs. O'Halloran, I wonder if I might just have a glass of water. I've had so much coffee today that I'm feeling a bit wired."
"Sure, sure, I can get you water. And help yourself to a finger sandwich." She dropped three large freezer bags on the kitchen table in front of me, then went about getting me a glass of water. I looked at the three bags, each one packed full of small sandwiches cut into rectangles. She stepped back over to me and handed me the glass of water, then pointed to each bag. "This one is roast beef, these are seafood salad, and the last one is... well, let me see... oh yes, watercress and cucumber."
"That's a lot of sandwiches."
"I got them at the funeral today."
"Oh, I'm sorry to hear."
"Hear what?" she asked.
"About your loss. Was it a friend or family member?"
She smiled. "None of the above. There are a lot of old folks around here and they die pretty regularly, at least one per week I'd say. I go to all of their funerals and load up on food. Just take some storage bags in my purse and fill them up, then I don't have to cook all week."
I nodded. "I'd say that's pretty frugal."
"Eat, eat."
I reached into the bag with roast beef sandwiches and took one. It was very dry. "Delicious."
"Yes, isn't it? Now I want you to know, I have no intention of driving you to the bus station."
"No problem, I ordered a taxi."
"I'm putting my foot down here, I will not take you. Is that understood?" I heard a honk outside and jumped up.
"Not necessary. If you could just sign here?"
She signed the paperwork, and I gave her a copy. "So you're just going to eat and run?"
"Afraid so. Have a great day, and thanks for the sandwich."
"I can't spare any food for you to take to go."
"Not a problem. Have a good day." I walked back out to the snow and to the waiting taxi. I hoped the driver of the taxi, and then the bus driver, and then the plane pilot, would all be more secure driving in this mess than I had been. Guess I'm just a driving fool not built for bad weather driving.
"Was it something I said?" she asked, her voice sounding hurt through the phone. She is my favorite driving customer, but she calls me frequently and this was very bad timing.
"No ma'am, always happy to talk to you, glad when you call me. But I'm driving in some pretty hazardous conditions, so I need both hands on the wheel."
"Oh Bill, you should never call me on your cell phone, especially not when driving in poor road conditions."
I paused. She had called me, as usual. "Talk to you soon, Mrs. Sherman." I hung up and dropped my phone in my lap. I was driving through Massachusetts on my way to New Hampshire to deliver a car. It was a tiny car, the first SMART car I had ever driven. But this one had two scooters attached to the back of it, the kind of motorized carts that elderly people ride around on. The scooters were rather precariously attached by a trailer hitch that was little more than an aluminum tray, and they wobbled like crazy.
The worst thing was the weather I was dealing with. Here it is near the end of March, and I thought all the bad winter weather was over with. But the storm I was driving through now was by far the most terrible weather I had ever had the displeasure to drive through in my life. It made the drive I made in Ohio back in January seem like a day in the park, a comparatively simple task. There was at least four feet of snow on the ground, the roads were iced over, the snow was coming down like a blizzard, and the winds were blowing 70 mph. Each time a good gust hit the car, it would begin to slip and slide on the ice. And the two heavy scooters on back made the tiny vehicle I was driving extremely unstable.
My cell phone rang again, and I looked down to identify the number calling. It was the lady I was going to see, Mrs. O'Halloran. She had been calling me once an hour ever since I left New Orleans, asking where I was and when I'd get there. I was less than an hour from her house, and I was not going to pick up the phone again for anything.
It was just over an hour later when I pulled into her driveway. She came out of the garage, pointing her finger at me and speaking in a scolding voice. She had a lot of spunk for an old woman. "Where have you been? Why didn't you answer my phone call?"
"Hello, Mrs. O'Halloran. I was driving in some seriously bad weather, and felt it would be unsafe to talk on the phone. But I'm here, and your car is here, all safe and sound."
"Well." She let out a sigh. "Well, OK, you're right. The car is here, that's the important thing. But where is the tarp I had covering the scooters?"
"I don't think you had it tied down very well. It blew off about 100 miles ago."
"Oh, that's a shame. Well, come on in the house for a cup of coffee."
"No thanks, I just need you to sign the paperwork here."
She stared at me long and hard. "I asked you to come into my kitchen for a cup of coffee."
"I really do appreciate the offer, but I have to get moving to catch my bus to the airport."
She put her hands on her hips, looking disgusted. "Listen to me, if you want me to sign your paperwork then you will come in and be gracious enough to accept a cup of coffee. Otherwise, I'm not signing anything."
I had no choice at this point but to follow her inside. No customer signature, no paycheck for me. The fact is that coffee can sometimes play fast and loose with my stomach, so I was trying to think of a way out of it. "Mrs. O'Halloran, I wonder if I might just have a glass of water. I've had so much coffee today that I'm feeling a bit wired."
"Sure, sure, I can get you water. And help yourself to a finger sandwich." She dropped three large freezer bags on the kitchen table in front of me, then went about getting me a glass of water. I looked at the three bags, each one packed full of small sandwiches cut into rectangles. She stepped back over to me and handed me the glass of water, then pointed to each bag. "This one is roast beef, these are seafood salad, and the last one is... well, let me see... oh yes, watercress and cucumber."
"That's a lot of sandwiches."
"I got them at the funeral today."
"Oh, I'm sorry to hear."
"Hear what?" she asked.
"About your loss. Was it a friend or family member?"
She smiled. "None of the above. There are a lot of old folks around here and they die pretty regularly, at least one per week I'd say. I go to all of their funerals and load up on food. Just take some storage bags in my purse and fill them up, then I don't have to cook all week."
I nodded. "I'd say that's pretty frugal."
"Eat, eat."
I reached into the bag with roast beef sandwiches and took one. It was very dry. "Delicious."
"Yes, isn't it? Now I want you to know, I have no intention of driving you to the bus station."
"No problem, I ordered a taxi."
"I'm putting my foot down here, I will not take you. Is that understood?" I heard a honk outside and jumped up.
"Not necessary. If you could just sign here?"
She signed the paperwork, and I gave her a copy. "So you're just going to eat and run?"
"Afraid so. Have a great day, and thanks for the sandwich."
"I can't spare any food for you to take to go."
"Not a problem. Have a good day." I walked back out to the snow and to the waiting taxi. I hoped the driver of the taxi, and then the bus driver, and then the plane pilot, would all be more secure driving in this mess than I had been. Guess I'm just a driving fool not built for bad weather driving.
Sunday, March 17, 2013
HOW TO PLEASE A WOMAN
I learned a lesson about meeting Facebook fans of my blogs over a year ago. I was invited to stay with a woman and her family, in a trailer infested in dog droppings, rat droppings, and insects everywhere. The woman didn't understand my trepidation, she just kept telling me "You get used to it."
Well, a close friend of mine named Melissa introduced me to her friend Trixie in Lubbock, Texas on a long distance phone call. Trixie and I stayed in touch via Facebook, and things began to heat up between us. Next thing you know, she is asking me to come and stay with her, and before you know it, I did just that.
To say that Trixie was the best hostess in the world would be severe understatement. She had asked me in advance what my favorite foods were, and she prepared them all for me while I was there. Trixie was extremely affectionate and constantly complimentary. I enjoyed her company immensely and tried to flatter her as much as possible, but she seemed intent only on praising me. I felt like I was getting buttered up, but I have to admit that I enjoyed every second of it.
The second night I was there, after a delicious prime rib dinner and a lot of wine, we went out onto her porch and held hands. We were on the porch swing, enjoying the night breeze there in the Texas panhandle. And then Trixie leaned over and kissed me rather aggressively. I was taken a bit by surprise, only because I have never been with a woman who was so comfortable with being so forward. Well heck, it was sure a happy surprise, and I just rolled with it.
One thing led to another, and before you know it I was not sleeping in her guest room any longer. In fact, that same night on the porch led to all kinds of other things. A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell, but I can say that Trixie was absolutely insatiable with her passions. It was like she could not get enough canoodling, and I found myself feeling like the king of the world.
The third day I was there, Trixie told me that she had fallen deeply in love with me. And she wondered if I would think it too forward of her to ask me to marry her. I was dumbfounded, primarily because I had spent two days with her and felt I barely knew her. Please don't misunderstand, I liked what I DID know about her, but I've never been proposed to before. And Trixie had a lot of plans that seriously overwhelmed me. For instance, she wanted me to quit my driving job right away and move in with her. She said she would support me, and then she'd get me a job working for her company. She even offered to get me a new car, something economical. Did I mention that Trixie is a woman of means?
I waited a day to respond, but had to say I thought it was too soon to move forward with such a serious commitment. She began to cry and ran out of the room, and I felt very guilty. I do not like to make a woman cry, and certainly didn't intend to. She had treated me great, cooking for me, waiting on me, teaching me some new tricks, all kinds of fun stuff. The last thing I wanted to do was let her down. Correction, the last thing I want to do is marry a woman that I am just getting acquainted with. And I'm still kind of hung up on my old girlfriend Karen (who loves women).
Before I left the next day, Trixie came up to me and gave me a hug and a peck on the cheek. She said that she was wrong to push me into something before I was ready. Then Trixie apologized to me, and asked if we could please still see each other if she promised to slow down. I said Sure, why not?
I guess maybe the title of this blog isn't entirely accurate. I call it HOW TO PLEASE A WOMAN, when this is a tale of how a woman went so far out of her way to please me in every way. And yet Trixie seemed to derive true joy and pure pleasure from satisfying me, and so I guess I did please her. The huge smile on her face as I pulled out of her driveway spoke volumes.
Well, a close friend of mine named Melissa introduced me to her friend Trixie in Lubbock, Texas on a long distance phone call. Trixie and I stayed in touch via Facebook, and things began to heat up between us. Next thing you know, she is asking me to come and stay with her, and before you know it, I did just that.
To say that Trixie was the best hostess in the world would be severe understatement. She had asked me in advance what my favorite foods were, and she prepared them all for me while I was there. Trixie was extremely affectionate and constantly complimentary. I enjoyed her company immensely and tried to flatter her as much as possible, but she seemed intent only on praising me. I felt like I was getting buttered up, but I have to admit that I enjoyed every second of it.
The second night I was there, after a delicious prime rib dinner and a lot of wine, we went out onto her porch and held hands. We were on the porch swing, enjoying the night breeze there in the Texas panhandle. And then Trixie leaned over and kissed me rather aggressively. I was taken a bit by surprise, only because I have never been with a woman who was so comfortable with being so forward. Well heck, it was sure a happy surprise, and I just rolled with it.
One thing led to another, and before you know it I was not sleeping in her guest room any longer. In fact, that same night on the porch led to all kinds of other things. A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell, but I can say that Trixie was absolutely insatiable with her passions. It was like she could not get enough canoodling, and I found myself feeling like the king of the world.
The third day I was there, Trixie told me that she had fallen deeply in love with me. And she wondered if I would think it too forward of her to ask me to marry her. I was dumbfounded, primarily because I had spent two days with her and felt I barely knew her. Please don't misunderstand, I liked what I DID know about her, but I've never been proposed to before. And Trixie had a lot of plans that seriously overwhelmed me. For instance, she wanted me to quit my driving job right away and move in with her. She said she would support me, and then she'd get me a job working for her company. She even offered to get me a new car, something economical. Did I mention that Trixie is a woman of means?
I waited a day to respond, but had to say I thought it was too soon to move forward with such a serious commitment. She began to cry and ran out of the room, and I felt very guilty. I do not like to make a woman cry, and certainly didn't intend to. She had treated me great, cooking for me, waiting on me, teaching me some new tricks, all kinds of fun stuff. The last thing I wanted to do was let her down. Correction, the last thing I want to do is marry a woman that I am just getting acquainted with. And I'm still kind of hung up on my old girlfriend Karen (who loves women).
Before I left the next day, Trixie came up to me and gave me a hug and a peck on the cheek. She said that she was wrong to push me into something before I was ready. Then Trixie apologized to me, and asked if we could please still see each other if she promised to slow down. I said Sure, why not?
I guess maybe the title of this blog isn't entirely accurate. I call it HOW TO PLEASE A WOMAN, when this is a tale of how a woman went so far out of her way to please me in every way. And yet Trixie seemed to derive true joy and pure pleasure from satisfying me, and so I guess I did please her. The huge smile on her face as I pulled out of her driveway spoke volumes.
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