A Happy Day

Today is our anniversary. We’ve been married 49 years.

We’ve experienced storms and times of tranquility and have come through both, still together. 

Neither of us is ready yet to dine out in a restaurant, so we are planning a picnic at the lake and will have the wonderful sirloin left from our Father’s Day dinner for our evening meal. 

The song is one of Richard’s favorites by this singer, and we listen to it often.

Who's to Blame?

Richard is very good at packing the food in the freezer compartment of our refrigerator, but occasionally it shifts.

Yesterday morning when he opened it to get a package of ham for our breakfast, a small plastic container of blueberries flew out and shattered, scattering the berries, along with a larger container of frozen fruit (which did not shatter, thankfully) and a package of sirloin steak. 

And no, with the price of beef here being what it is now (at last check, $7.00 a pound for hamburger), we did not splurge and buy this steak. This was given to us when things were normal by friends at church when they cleaned out their freezer. We will eat it for Father’s day dinner or our anniversary, which is coming up.

After the berries were picked up, and he put everything back in the freezer, Richard said, “I blame it on the sirloin steak.” 

And I suggested (and where this came from, I don’t know) “We could blame it on the bossa nova.” This was a song that was popular in 1963 by Eydie Gormé—and if you want to listen to it you can find it on YouTube, but I am not going to put a link to here.

“I suppose I could," he said, "but we don’t have any bossa nova in the freezer.”

Well, it was funny at the time.

Locking up

About 20 years ago (give or take) Richard locked the keys in the truck when he was in Springfield (that’s 90 miles to the city limit sign), and the locksmith charged him about $30 to unlock the car.

He immediately had a spare key made, which he kept in his wallet, so that wouldn’t happen again. It did happen a second time, again in the truck, but that time he had the spare key in his wallet.

After thinking about it some more, he had a second spare key made, which he kept at his desk.

He thought about it still more and had spare keys made for all of the vehicles, which he keeps in a container at his desk. We have 4 vehicles, so the collection of keys has grown quite a bit.

Friday morning he left to have new lenses put in his glasses. Two hours later the phone rings: “I am stuck in West Plains,” he says. “I locked my wallet and my keys in the truck.”

So then he had to explain where the spare key was in his office. I found the key...

got dressed--well, I was dressed (old t-shirt and a pair of his boxer shorts), but not suitable to be seen in public--and drove to West Plains (about 25 miles away) to rescue him.

They optometrist’s office policy is that he could not wait in the waiting room for the lenses to be put in. He had to wait in the truck, and they came and got him when the glasses were done. In the confusion of getting in and out of the car, he goofed.

How to keep this from happening again? He never leaves the house without his bucket hat, and he never leaves the hat in the car, so he is thinking about putting the spare key in one of the pockets on his bucket hat.

That should work. I hope so.