LOST AT SEA – WAITING FOR THE SHIP TO COME IN

12/08/201612/08/2016 / Marilyn Armstrong / 27 Comments

You know what I mean. I’m talking about that ship. The one which is carrying your treasure. The ship we wait for all our lives. Someone once asked me if I’d been down to the wharf lately to wave at incoming ships. “Maybe,” she said, “Your ship is out there just looking for you, loaded with treasure and unless you wave it into shore, it will never find you.” Now there’s a thought.

I went outside to collect a package this morning. When I came inside, the door molding fell off, revealing a mess of dry and not-so-dry rot underneath. I don’t know if we need a new door assembly (again), but we absolutely need some repairs to the threshold and the door frame. If we don’t fix it, I’m pretty sure it will fix us.

I know money cannot buy happiness, but I’m replete with happiness. Any happiness that comes without a price, I’ve got it. I need some of the stuff that only money can buy. Repairs to the house. New bathroom fixtures and flooring. Paint. Molding. Someone to clean the gutters, paint the window frames, and clean up what used to be a garden. Repave the driveway.

Neither God nor love nor hope of a miracle pays those bills. So barring my treasure ship showing up in port, I’m not sure what, exactly, remains for me to do.

Because that door frame is looking expensive in a dollar sign kind of way.

TREASURE | THE DAILY POST

TUESDAY’S TEXTURE ON A WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON

12/08/201612/08/2016 / Marilyn Armstrong / 42 Comments

Before the grooming

This morning, we took two blacks heaps of dirty rags to the groomer and emerged two hours later with surprisingly attractive Scottish Terriers. Texture? Soft and fuzzy!

Happy, with dogs

Bonnie has a better beard than Gibbs! A very proud Scottie beard. I got the pictures before we left the groomer. It was raining out and who knew how long they’d look good. Note the two piles of “dirty black rags” have gone and both dogs … (trumpet flourish!) … have eyes!

TUESDAYS OF TEXTURE | WEEK 50 OF 2016

TOUGH QUESTIONS, EASY ANSWERS

12/08/201612/08/2016 / Marilyn Armstrong / 42 Comments

I asked. He answered. He asked, I answered. We’ve been together ever since.

Here’s how it happened. It began on the ferry ride back from Martha’s Vineyard. We’d spent a magical week. It was obvious that Something Was Happening.

From there, we moved on to living together. Sort of. We each had our own place, but were almost always together in one or the other. With a lot of driving in between. As both of us were working full-time, we didn’t get a lot of time to relax together. Things were bound to change, but there was in no rush. I had no plans for moving on.

I’d gone to California on business for a couple of weeks. I came back early because I got sick. Which was just as well, because an earthquake — the one that stopped the World Series on October 17, 1989 — occurred the following day. If I’d stayed, I’d have been crushed under a collapsed highway.

A few weeks later, Garry had a few questions for me. He suggested we go out to dinner. Nice place on the dock in Boston. Garry was uncharacteristically nervous. I could tell because he drove around Leverett Circle half a dozen times on the way to the wharf . He kept missing the turn. As he drove, he explained he’d had a conversation with a pal about real estate. Prices were down. Maybe we should buy something. Live together. Like maybe … forever? Was forever okay with me?

Having listened awhile, I said: “Let me see if I’ve got this right. You want to buy a house? Move in and live together? Forever? As in married?”

“All of that,” he said, and drove around the loop one more time.

This time, I said “Yes.”

The following morning, I asked Garry if I could tell my friends. He said “Tell them what?”

“That we’re getting married,” I said.

“We are?”

“You said we should buy a house and live together forever.”

“Is that a proposal?”

“It is where I come from,” I assured him. I had to remind him about buying a ring, but eventually he realized all he had to do was give me a ring, set a date, tell me what he wanted in the way of a wedding (everything, really everything). After which he could show up in a tux and be married.

We got married 6 months later having known each other only 26 years.

I asked, he said “yes.” He asked, I said “yes.” Not so tough after all.