Humor, Uncategorized

Flowers For A Panther

Ken and I were in the car talking rather than moving up, out and toward our hair appointments. Because part of my defensive driving plan as I age is to pull through parking spaces so I will have a clear view when I exit, we had the perfect sightline to observe a speeding car travel catawampus across the parking lot. The dark blue SUV landed cross-way over three parking spots directly across from us.

I said, “Ken, look at her!”

Ken laughed more at my reaction than at the woman clearly breaking the drive-slowly-so-you-do-not-mow-down-a-pedestrian rules.

We watched a middle-aged woman step out of her car in a black, tight yoga-type outfit. Fancy cut-outs near the hem of the Capri-length pants pulled our eyes away from her mane flying freely.

The lady moved quickly to the island between the parking area and the main pathway leading from HEB to Subway Sandwiches. Ballet lessons in her past were doubtful as she teetered on tip-toe, reached up and broke off a small branch of lavender crepe myrtle.

Her beneficence to self produced enough blooms to fully fill a large vase. Smart. If the plan is to steal flowers from a park or parking lot tree, why not take a generous arrangement?

The panther smelled the crepe myrtle and her face softened. I could see the pride she felt holding her prize.

When she returned to her car, she saw us – the old people watching her illegally park, vandalize a crepe myrtle and escape with her haul.

Her smile invited me to be a coconspirator – to revere nature and beauty, to live as an adventurer, and to be empathetic to her need for smell, sight, touch, and all the sensory experiences innate in each petal. The thief and I – kindred spirits.

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Art, Humor, Uncategorized

Ken and the Wasp

I was dressing for a date with Ken when I felt a sharp sting on my upper hip. How a wasp found his way into my bedroom will forever be a mystery. I screamed, interrupting the electrical current to the fan lights and cracking a glass on the nightstand. When the wasp flew into the bathroom, I slammed the door behind him. I felt great relief in the restored safety of my bedroom. Ken arrived and I handed him a flyswatter. He killed the beast I knew was bigger than the proverbial bread box. My hero!

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