A Grand Day

My day started out just like most days and will probably end that way. But it’s what happened in between that makes my life interesting. I’m plunking away at my computer when I get a call from one of my daughters. In an excited voice she was describing the scene taking place in front of our house. She first heard loud shouting and swearing, an obvious argument. She looked out the window to find a small man on the lawn with a large police officer standing near him with his gun drawn.

Then the place was quickly swarming with several law enforcement vehicles from the local police department, the sheriff’s department and the California Highway Patrol. Apparently this man had done something really bad as they all pointed their guns at him. After getting him into the car the officers started to search the area. It was garbage day today so they peeked into our garbage cans, over our fence and in our shrubbery. Perhaps they were looking for the reason they all took their guns out. I hope they found it.

I asked Elissa if she was near the window because I didn’t think that was a safe place to be. “It’s all over now, dad. But I saw the whole thing. It was really wild.” Although I don’t think she learned any new bad swears (she knows most of them by now) I was concerned this all happened within close shooting distance of my nice house we just had painted and re-roofed (and my daughter). I would not have been happy with bullets messing up the new roof (or my daughter).

I remembered it was St. Patrick’s day so I took a friend, Mr. Michael Raymond Nunan, one of the finest and kindest gentlemen ever to grace this fine planet of ours, to a lunch of poorly prepared corned beef and cabbage. I decided that I would make it for dinner, but mine would be much better. I remembered that it was my Grandmother Ruth’s birthday. May she rest in a well-deserved heavenly peace. I also remembered it was our dearly departed Basset hound, Humphrey’s, birthday. And I could not forget my Chicago friend, Steve Luce, was also having another birthday. I sent him a gift but I have not heard whether he liked it or not. I’m on pins and needles, Steve!

I also remembered that my grandfather, Carl (Pops), would dye his beard green every St. Patty’s. He didn’t have a drop of Irish blood in him. But we looked forward to the spectacle every year. When I was young I would die of embarrassment if a friend found out that crazy old coot in the green beard wandering around downtown Buffalo was my grandfather. But as I grew older, it was something to brag about. “So, that’s where you get it,” friends were quoted as saying. When I asked them to define what ‘it’ was, no one could offer a good answer.

A hot air balloon almost landed in our parking lot.

I stopped at our local Rayley’s (grocer) on my way home from work. I picked up the essentials for corned beef and cabbage. I got in my van and waited forever at a light. I waited so long that I entertained myself by staring at how fast the moon was rising compared to a telephone wire. I started staring at it when it was above the top of the moon and the light turned green when it was past the bottom. Clearly I must have waited a half hour or more for the moon to move that much.

At the next light I was first at the starting line. Across the road from me, also stopped, was a woman my age in the driver’s seat. Her passenger was an older fellow, probably her father. She was pinching her nose. I had the time to think this one through. Either she had a bloody nose and was out of tissue, or her father had eaten corned beef and cabbage for lunch and had either floated a wicked air biscuit or crapped his underpants. When the light turned green she was still holding her nose leading me to think it was a solid, not a gas. She also had both windows down. He must have pooped because even my worst farts don’t last through an entire stop light with both windows down on a windy day.*

I rest my case.

When I got home I thought about my day as I got out my pressure cooker. I threw in the meat chunk along with my spices from Penzey’s. I talked with Elissa a bit more about her crazy day with the law enforcement incident and told her about the moon and the poopy pants man. A little bit ago we enjoyed our meal, which was way better than the stuff I ate at Oliver’s Market. After I’m done posting this, I will go to the freezer and eat a well-deserved all-natural Dryers coconut frozen juice bar with real coconut flakes. And I shall sit and wait to see what else will happen.

I think I’ve still got ‘it.’

*I am certain my wife would be in total agreement with this factual statement.