Late in the afternoon my friend Gina called me.
“I need to exercise. My bike ride didn’t work out today. Will you go for a walk with me?”
I hate exercise, but even more, I hate not having deadlines. All day long I’d been piddling around house cleaning – and not being very motivated. Her call was the perfect excuse to “pour on the speed” and finish up my last two projects. Namely dusting my room and making my bed up with clean sheets, fresh from the dryer.
Even though I’d been leisurely, I’d managed to clean the bathroom (including wiping down the ceramic wainscoting), dust all the book/liquor shelves, the guest bedroom and the living room/dining room. I’d also recoiled my extra-long phone cord (YES, it’s possible I might be OCD about a thing or two), dust mopped all the hardwood floors, and folded/hung all my laundry.
She showed up – and I decided that while we were walking, we might as well do an errand. Our friend Mamie had left behind a platter at my house the last time we had a writing reunion. She lives “in-the-hood” so I grabbed the platter and off we set.
We went south on the street that boarders the creek running along my neighborhood – then we crossed the creek and came back north. I knew at SOME POINT we needed to head east – and then north again, but you know. Yeah. I didn’t look at a map, and I’ve only DRIVEN to Mamie’s house. So the .9 mile drive turned into a 1.6 mile walk with me continually saying, “I think we go left here”.
LESS THAN A MILE FROM MY HOUSE, AND I CANNOT GET US THERE, in a straight line, BECAUSE NO SUCH THING EXISTS in all of North Carolina!! (or it is possible I have deluded myself all these years thinking I have a good sense of direction.)
ANYWAY, we arrived. Mamie’s husband answered the door. Poor man, I’m sure he wondered who the red-faced puffing red-head, and laughing blond were. I shoved the platter at him and Gina asked if Mamie was home.
Silly man, he let us into the house! Where Mamie appeared and eventually offered us water and beer. With that offer I know we’d be there for a while.
AND HOW WONDERFUL is this neighborhood and my friends? They were in the middle of grilling some fish and pheasant – and asked if we wouldn’t stay and join them – as they had too much for the two of them for dinner to begin with. Gina and I were polite – and hemmed and hawed for a second or two – then accepted with alacrity.
What a wonderful evening! As we set down to eat, we held hands and each offered one blessing in our lives. Then we dug into the food and conversation.
Our discussion ranged from fly fishing for Terrapin in the Yucatan, to writing, to folk story-telling, Scotch drinking, skiing in at Heavenly, Kirkwood, Squaw, and sailing in Oriental, cooking, weekend road-trips, and more about writing.
With forcefulness Gina finally said, “We must get home, Mit” and I agreed. We left – laughing and talking as we carried a sip or two of wine with us. As we crossed the creek Gina said we sounded like old ladies “Praisin’ Jesus” and I thought to myself, “What a perfect title for the night.”