More than one or two people have observed my tendency to think very literally; saying concretely could be sketchy because an image of a residential driveway would immediately come to my mind's eye.
Each time a Cialis commercial broadcasts, I tend to ask silently, 'Who the heck has two bath tubs outside?'
Mr. A and I have two vehicles, but we have not succumbed to the two outdoor bath tubs in order to keep up with the Joneses, or, in this case, the Woods. Two zero gravity loungers--now that's a different story. Those we have.
We also have altogether different ideas about romance.
I usually occupy the zero gravity lounger on the left, often with a pile of books in my lap. Mr. A's spot is on the right, sans books. Sunday afternoon, after a brief visit from baby boy before his departure to Colorado, we retired to the front yard for some much-needed rest.
I suppose I should explain the location. During the cooler weather, we drag the loungers from their summer home beneath a Bradford pear tree toward the front of our almost 7 acre spread dubbed The Ponderosa. Those rich in the language of literature might call our property a glade, but really, it used to be a chicken farm. Anyway, our bit of the earth the Lord has blessed us with to enjoy during our sojourn here faces east, so this location grants us as much possible time in the rapidly setting fall and winter sun.
My book of the day was Susan Branch's "A Fine Romance: Falling in love with the English Countryside". If Susan's books aren't your cup of tea, I'll fill you in. Her handwriting is her own font, her whimsical drawings, and sweet photographs fill the pages. This book is dotted with quotations, often written along a wave instead of in line.
Not so long ago, I read an obituary of a woman who'd found truest love, and one of her joys was the deep, intellectual conversations she and her husband would have. It was one of the sweetest micro love stories I'd ever read, that obituary.
My husband will sometimes humor me and listen while I read, though when I hear a snore or a fart, I realize he may not be concentrating. Don't you dare think badly of him for not caring to read! He can pilot small aircraft and put a carburetor back together, so there. Have you ever seen a carburetor completely disassembled into its three gazillion pieces?!
Back to the book. One of the wavy quotations was from Ella Fitzgerald: "The only thing better than singing is more singing."
Mr. A wasn't snoring or farting, but fully enraptured and he lifted slightly from his reclined position and said, "It's like that with sex, too."
Odds are I won't travel to England in an ocean liner, own two outdoor bath tubs or have deep, intellectual conversations with Mr. A, but our take on those bits of other people's lives works for me. Without Cialis pills. Those things could make you go blind, ya know!
