Wednesday, June 01, 2016


A few weeks ago I was helping her in her room. There on the dresser were tickets to a music show at the Hard Rock, for Friday May 27th.
I thought “Well, she hasn’t invited ME to this gig. Who is the lucky guy? I’ll kill him.”
But the days and weeks passed, and while it stewed in my mind a bit, I wasn’t exactly ate up. For one thing it wasn’t the kind of show she would normally go to. There is really no telling how she came by these tickets. I learned a long time ago to fret over such things is a real waste of time, and can be pretty destructive to your soul.
And I did pretty good, putting it out of my mind, at least until the 26th of May.
Suddenly I remembered it was tomorrow night, and there was not a mention from her of this music show.
In fact she had said she would be going to a funeral visitation that night.
Are you kidding me?
A funeral visitation?
That’s the oldest trick in the book!
So what did I do?

I got online to price a ticket to this show, in anticipation that I might show up and find out who this mystery man might be. Maybe if I wear a cowboy hat, or a suit and tie with a black wig, or my black tooth I carry with me for good luck, she might not spot me in the crowd!
I didnt buy the ticket. I knew better than to go. I learned a long time ago not to park down the street, knock on the door, peek in a window. You don't want to know. You THINK you want to know, but you really don't.
But, I'm human. I turned it over and over in my mind, just like I did during break-ups when I was 17, or 24, or 40 when I was going thru a divorce.

So the day of the show I talked to her. I asked her what she was going to do after the “funeral visitation” (yeah, right) after it was over at 8:00.
It was then she threw me for a real loop.
“How about if I come over and we make Peach Ice Cream” she says.
Peach Ice Cream?
Is she putting me on?
I call her bluff.
“Sure, come on over, I’ll get the ingredients”.

I got to tell you it was some really good ice cream, and we watched "American Masters: The Highwaymen", and I’m a real idiot.

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