Dance

Ah, a slow dance. She pulled Alice close. This was her chance. They were on their first date. She’d wanted to kiss Alice all night long. Now. Now was her chance. She pushed her nose into Alice’s hair. Alice didn’t resist. She wrapped her arm around Alice neck. Alice didn’t resist. Okay. Now. Do it now. Move!

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Wait

Wait, it’s only Thursday? No, it must be Friday by now. I need to sleep late tomorrow. I need to play with my dog in the park. I need to invite my pals over for dinner and a couple more episodes of “Jessica Jones.” I cannot wait for more days, it must be Friday now, today. Immediately.

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My Favorite Toy

Stop me if I’ve told you this before. Oh, right. You don’t know what I’m talking about yet. Well, when I was a kid I had these gold colored cap guns. Shaped like six shooters. They used caps that came in a disc with six shots. I had a plastic holsters to carry them in – one on each hip. I tell you, I was so cool carrying those cap guns down the street, I could hardly stand myself.

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Get Outta Town

She sent me an email. She wanted to go to a uke festival on a weekend in May. It wasn’t far away, but it was a way to get outta town. That sounded great. I mean, we don’t really need to travel to a uke fest, we have one of our own. But this one was SOMEWHERE ELSE.

I sent back an answer, “Let’s do it!”

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Redhead

I sat down in the restaurant with my redheaded friend. Across from us was a tot in a highchair with red hair of the same pale hue. And down two tables was a curly headed girl with red hair of the same hue. The waitress (who wasn’t a redhead last week) had bright red hair. The woman busing tables had red streaks in her dark brown hair. My gray hair just didn’t belong.

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Pancakes

Before Eden woke up, Jen whipped up pancakes from scratch. She put berries and slivered almonds on top and warmed up real maple syrup. When it was ready, she carried a cup of aromatic hot coffee into the bedroom. The coffee did its magic and Eden stirred.

“I made breakfast,” Jen said. “Pancakes.”

“Oh,” Eden yawned. “I can’t handle gluten. But you’re really sweet.”

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Itch

Remember “The Seven Year Itch?” No, of course you don’t. You’re much to young to remember that. The reason I ask is that I’ve been thinking about things that itch lately. Insect bites, wanderlust, the newest iPhone. All those itches in your life that you want to relieve. Does it do any good to relieve an itch? Is it a solution, or does something else start to nag at you immediately afterwards?

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Fuzzy

I love my fuzzy robe,
It keeps me toasty warm,
It cradles me to sleep,
As unwatched TV shows flicker by.

I love my fuzzy robe,
It gives me distinction
Because I look just like
Oscar the Grouch in it.

I love my fuzzy robe,
The ample belt
Can circle my ample middle,
To keep me tightly wrapped.

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Donate

“You want me to donate my sperm?” he asked.

“You’re a good genetic choice,” she said. “You’re strong, smart, attractive. You have high value sperm.” She smiled because he was glaring at her with disbelief.

“No.” he said.

“Look, you’d be willing to have unprotected sex with me, wouldn’t you?”

He looked away. Maybe she had him.

“What so different about doing it this way?” she asked.

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Alto

Using the word alto in Scrabble the other day led to an interesting conversation with the grandkid. In English, alto is a middle range voice or instrument. In Spanish it means high (or tall) or stop. In French it refers only to a singing voice. The Latin altus meant both high and deep. This is what happens when your grandkid knows all the best web sites for translating words.

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