Tag Archives: “the boyfriend”

One More Time

15 Aug

Yesterday, we attended a funeral for an old and very dear friend. The Squire had known Herb from his early days at Equitable Trust, and was pleasantly surprised to see him when he started coming to church with me. Herb’s wife died in January, and he had just given up. He’d had several strokes, and his sons had decided that enough was enough. He was 86.

Herb had served in the Army during the Korean War, and one of his grandsons – and his wife – are also in the Army, so the funeral was what I’d call semi-military. The coffin was brought into the church covered with the American flag, Taps was played, and the grandchildren and another officer folded the flag and handed it to the two sons. The coffin was then covered with a pall and the service went on from there.

When my dad died, I didn’t know all this good stuff was available from the VFW or wherever, and we had some poor soul from the local high school playing Anchors Aweigh on a clarinet – in the rain.

Herb was to be cremated, so there was no internment; Fr. Matthew played Amazing Grace on the bagpipes as the coffin was carried back to the hearse, and then we all went into the hall for a meal.

I have mentioned before that it is worth your life to grab me from behind, and also that my best friend’s husband has been after me for years to leave The Squire and marry him. I have promised that I would do so when he stopped smoking and when I grow up. He’s done his part, but there’s no hope of the latter. Obviously a red-hot romance.

During the dinner, The Boyfriend stumbled and instinctively reached for the closest available solid object, which just happened to be me. I screamed, and we both ended up on the floor. Several people came dashing over to help us – there was absolutely no harm done to either of us – but BFF just raised her eyebrows and suggested if we were going to carry on that way we ought to at least get a room.

Free at Last – Sort of

17 Oct

The Squire and I were at the doctor’s office at 12:50 for a 1:00 appointment to have my cast removed, and out on the street at 1:00. This guy is fast. I now have an opposable thumb, and an interesting wrinkle in my hand. He recommended I use one of those “squeezy” balls to strengthen my hand, and assured me that the pain in my wrist is strictly from trying to use muscles in a way they weren’t intended to be used, and would go away in a few days. I do have an ace bandage wrapped around my hand, mostly to keep the stitches from getting banged. I know we have a dozen of those silly balls in the house, but darned if I can find one when I need it.

I can put on my clothes, but still have trouble getting out of things, so I had to ask The Squire to unzip me this afternoon.

Now, “Unzip me! Unzip me!” is a long-standing joke on our house. For many, many years, my best friend’s husband has been asking me – jokingly – to leave The Squire and marry him, which I have always said I would do, if he stopped smoking, and if I grew up. I have to admit he’s done his part, but there’s no chance I’ll ever fulfill my part of the bargain.

Anyway, about a thousand years ago, the four of us were standing around talking when I felt something crawling on my back. I reached up to brush it off and discovered a wasp or yellow-jacket had gotten down inside my dress, and was busily stinging me on my spine. The Squire was standing across from me, but BFF’s husband – the wannabe – was right next to me, and I turned around and screamed “Unzip me! Unzip me!”

He did so, but complained that he had been waiting years for me to say that, and I had to go and do it in public.