I love this time of year. There’s nothing like a NorCal fall — all sparkly, bright days with golden sun, crisp air and pumpkins popping up all orange a ghoulishly cheerful.
I don’t even mind the winds we get this time of year though they do mean extra watchfulness for fires. I distract myself from the anxiety of “fire watch” by fine tuning my brooms as those north westerlies make for the best flying weather. Bwahahahahaha.
When asked “why do you own so many brooms?” my beloved simply answers, “For my wife’s transportation purposes.” Yeah, he’s a funny guy a real laugh riot.
We were going somewhere or other together this week in our standard mode of transportation — the car, because all my fall modes of transportation are single seaters and he doesn’t like how I fly anyway –when I spotted a broom laying in the middle of the road.
“Stop! Pull over!” I yelled. “Call 9-1-1!”
“What? Why?” he asked swerving to miss the broom and stopping on the road shoulder.
I pointed to the broom and, “We need them to put out a BOLO! There’s a rider down.”
“Lunatic. I married a freaking lunatic,” he said, pulling back into traffic.
A few days later I was at the doctor’s — again. I’m tellin’ ya this having marked more than half a century of birthdays ain’t for sissies. Anyway, there I was at the doctor’s and in addition to taking my temperature, blood pressure and oxygen uptake, the nurse wanted to get my weight. My first thought was “you can have it, sister.” But what I said was “no.”
“No. I’m not getting on that scale. I’m having a pretty good day and would just as soon jump into a burning ring of fire as get on that scale.”
“But, but the doctor needs …”
“The doctor needs absolutely nothing to see that I’ve gained weight. And I have questions about that which I will discuss with her.”
The nurse smiled faintly but said no more guiding me into the examination room and bypassing the scale which was scarier than anything I could possibly run into in a haunted house. That’s my nightmare — a haunted house filled with scales and mirrors.
Anyway, the doc came in and we discussed what we needed to and then we got down to the meat of things so to speak.
“So, doc I have a question. The human body has something like 37 trillion cells and about a million of those cells — brain, hair, skin etc. — die every second so what’s the deal with fat cells?”
My doctor, a Seventh Day Adventist with a sense of humor, replied, “Well it’s been my experience that fat cells have accepted Jesus Christ as their Lord and Savior giving them eternal life.”
One beat of stunned silence. Two beats of stunned silence and then bwahahahahaha before I asked, “Are you sure they’re not Buddhist? Mine seem to die and reincarnate bigger and tougher than ever.”
“Hmmmmm well I suppose it’s possible, but you’re fine. You’re healthy, and if you’re concerned about your weight eat less calories than you burn every day. Also engage in practices that de-stress you. In fact, what you need to do is take your sportiest broom out for a whirl, scare a few children and call me in the morning,” she said with a wink and nod as she walked out the door.
Oh she knows me so well.