Futo maki? Tempura? I could have the sushi dinner … although the mango chicken is looking pretty scrumptious right now. What are you having?
Stupid me, why am I asking? You’re having the sashimi deluxe. That’s what you always have. Not that’s not a criticism. It’s an observation. Why are you laughing? Well I’m glad you find me amusing. It hasn’t been half an hour … has it? Really? Well, it’s a very large menu. Yes, I know I’ve seen it many times before. That doesn’t help.
I do too have a sense of humor. It’s just I like almost everything on the menu. I want it all. I think I’m drooling.
Maybe I should have a dinner. I could get a bit of everything. Well, not everything, but a bunch of things. Except I can’t eat that much … it would be a waste.
Of course. Thank you for reminding me. Anything I don’t eat, you will take care of for me. What a nice husband you are! I can always count on you.
So what would you like me to order? If you’re going to eat it, it might as well be something you enjoy. Shrimp? Yeah, I could do that. They make a wicked tempura. Shrimp and veggies or just shrimp? What do you think? I could get futo maki as an appetizer. I would share it with you, right? So nothing would get wasted …
I literally paid in blood for these pictures. I think they are worth it, though I’m pretty sore and have a feeling I’m going to be very uncomfortable tomorrow.
Funny to discover this dam after passing so near for more than a dozen years. You really can’t see it from the road, which is where we usually shoot from and I probably heard it, but didn’t pay attention. It’s an interesting dam, not like any of the other local dams.
It’s not very tall, perhaps 10 or 12 feet. Water doesn’t flow over the dam as much as it comes through holes in the dam, set at various heights in a long crescent. The waters spits out and onto a plateau of flat rocks. I’m not sure what this design was intended to accomplish, but there must have been some special purpose in the design.
The old mill used to be an antique cooperative until last year. They recently converted it to an adult activity center. The senior center in Uxbridge is tiny, so this is definite upgrade. The building has been beautifully restored and its location, adjacent to the river and Whitins Pond … well, it couldn’t be lovelier.
“Whoa,” he yelped. And jumped, startled to bump into me. It nearly made me drop my glass of juice. That would have made a fine mess.
“Whoa? Garry, I live here. I’m your wife. I live here. Married twenty-three years. We just had an anniversary. You need to get used to having me around.”
“Yes,” he said. “I think I recognize you. I’m pretty sure we’ve met before.”
We met at the college radio station in 1963. We’ve been friends ever since. Fifty years of friendship and we’ve been living together for the past quarter century.This is no fly-by-night arrangement. Yet almost every encounter surprises him enough to make him jump. After all this time, you’d think it wouldn’t be such a shock.
“Remember,” I repeated. “I’m your wife. I live here,” I said it loudly because he didn’t have his hearing aids in.
He grinned. “I know.”
“Then why are you surprised to see me?”
“I didn’t expect to find you in the hallway.”
“Why not? I think it’s safe to say I might pop up anywhere at any time. You need to get a grip on this.”
“Right,” he said.
Immediately after this conversation, I left the bedroom to get the telephone and bring it back to its base in the bedroom. When I opened the door, he jumped. Startled again.
I’m sure he knows we’re married. He bought me flowers and a card just yesterday. He recognizes me with and without my eyeglasses. He put a band-aid on my nose this afternoon. He sends me emails and reads this blog. Nonetheless, he’s always surprised — even shocked — to see me. I’m sure there’s a reason. I’m just not sure what it is.
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