Friday, June 11, 2010

On Snakes and Wine


All these little trips I have made lately, and the last week has me all turned around. I agreed to make cheese straws for a function at the museum, so that kept me busy on Thursday. All the while I was excited about seeing Parrish on Friday and at the same time, I was dreading it, not knowing what to expect. The weekend went very well, and I was home in the early afternoon of Sunday. I would not allow myself to cry in front of Parrish, for fear of making him worry. So it was a dry time for me. I’ve decided why I fall apart after being gone for a few days. I hold back my tears and put as good a face on things as I can, but those tears are still there. They are dammed up, and when they do come, it’s a waterfall.

Monday I spent the day getting my Avon Walk thank-yous ready to mail, and it took all day. Actually I didn’t finish up until yesterday morning. The dogs found a snake in the house, a small brown one, and I captured it with my grabber. Every short woman needs a grabber. I was on my way out the door to release him when I realized that I couldn’t tell whether or not he was dangerous . I couldn’t get a good look at his head, couldn't tell whether it was round or flat. We have a creek next to our house, and we have had so much rain, I decided he just might be a water moccasin. What to do? I decided to flush him down the toilet, but the first time he didnt flush. The second time, he went down, but I spent the rest of the day flushing about every 15 minutes, just to be sure. I never said I’m not crazy.

After flushing the snake, and finishing as much Avon work a I could stand for one day, I made another batch of cheese straws. I didn’t get out of my pajamas or bathe until late afternoon. I was too busy to break down and cry. The tears were there, waiting for an opportunity to fall, but my eyes stayed dry.

Yesterday morning, I found my toilet stopped up, and naturally I wondered if the snake had caused the problem. Then came the tears. I felt stupid and alone and I wanted Clint. I lay across the bed and bawled, self-deprecating and pitiful beyond words. Both dogs got on the bed with me and I stroked and hugged and cried all over them. They didn’t seem to mind

When I stopped crying and was just sniffling a little bit, I tried to unstop the toilet myself, using a plumber’s friend. Disaster, absolute disaster. I cried some more and when I found my voice again I called my plumber. When he arrived, I confessed that I had flushed the snake, and he assured me that the snake was long gone, which made me feel better but didn’t make me stop feeling stupid. The problem was caused by a panty liner that had fallen into the toilet when I got up during the night to use it. Lesson: don’t let your panty liner drop into the toilet and get flushed. He fixed the toilet in a matter of minutes. So, then I had to clean my bathroom from top to bottom. I didn’t eat all day. After the fiasco with the toilet, food ever entered my mind.
I had a date last night with a girlfriend for supper at the club and was nervous about it, second-guessing my decision to go there. Clint loved to go to the club on Tuesdays, and was not sure I was ready to go without him. I almost called Lisa to see if we could go somewhere else. Then I looked at myself in the mirror and said, “You must try. You can leave any time you wish. Just try.” So, I went, and I am still trying to figure out whether or not it was a mistake. I saw some people I haven’t seen in months, and I was thrilled that Frances was there. She has a way of making me feel good. Everyone I saw was wonderful and I got hugs all evening. Still, I had moments when my eyes welled up and I literally had to will myself not to weep.

I drank a big martini on my empty stomach. Wrong. I ordered a small meal, picked at it and drank a glass of Kendall Jackson chardonnay in memory of Clint. Then I drank another one.

Whoops! Lisa followed me home, which is thankfully less than a mile from the club. She came in to see what I have been doing to the house, and I opened bottle of pinot noir. That is not a typo. I opened a bottle of wine and we sat and talked until almost midnight. We both drank wine (and lots of water) and talked about some changes in her life, and I told her all about Poppy. When she left, I cried myself to sleep

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