MERCURY'S ODYSSEY

Pamela's Note:  All BOLD words are car names.

An Odyssey

Mercury was rising.
From the turret of his castle, you could tell King Mercury wasn't happy with the hassle of having to deal with these two AGAIN.

Whooping and hollering came Chief Pontiac galloping from the western woods astride his trusty steed, Pinto.  Next came Royal LeBaron, his mail clacking and clanging, riding from the eastern meadow saddled on Mustang, his favored stallion.

As dumb and determined as they were, they were sure to meet, nay collide, in the middle, in the beloved courts of his mansion where there was bound to be some jousting, some Javelin tossing, and some Saab-ing.  Well, maybe not sobbing but at least bitter regret.  They were bound to come to blows and his gardens, with their Leafs, would be trampled!  His precious Lotus!  His stalwart Laurel!  His beautiful Daffodils!

"GUARDS!  GUARDS!  To The Courtyards!" they were Herald-ed.

The guards tried their best, but before they could get there, a Sonic boom resonated throughout the stone castle walls.  Pontiac and LeBaron had boisterously collided in the middle.

The chief had fallen, sprawled, legs and arms akimbo, one foot still hung up in its stirrup.  And the royalist was face down in the dirt, spread-Eagle.

Royal LeBaron dared to open one eye while he kept the other squinted shut in the mud.  To his chagrin there scurrying for cover was a Beetle.  Seemed like he'd been having a Fiesta with some of his friends like their cousins the ants in their own world of trails, burrows, and carrying away of morsels. The Bug gave a final dirt dive and was gone.

Curious about the goings on in the Kings gardens, a Falcon flew closer and dared to light upon Chief Pontiac's helmet, peck, peck, pecking, making his upper visor ping.  "What's in there?  Got any Hornets?  Got any worms?  Got any food?"  Peck, peck, peck.  "Helloooooooo....."

The Pinto was unsettled with his master flat on his back and something hanging from his underbelly staying his movements.  One shoed hoof was stuck in the fishpond.  Swimming by, the Barracuda thought he looked tasty!  The Cobra on the far bank was thinking similar thoughts!  The Pinto wanted free.  He could think of nothing else and began making frenzied circles in the verdant grass; tethered by the chief's foot, round and round and round he went making any onlooker giggle in merriment.  Round, and round, he went, snort and flail, round and round, and snort.

The Mustang had trotted away not realizing at first that his rider was absent.  When the Zephyr wind hit his bare back, it gave him pause.  He stopped, he turned, he looked around.  There like a Mirage lay LeBaron face planted in Mother Earth.  With an equestrian snort of his full-maned head, like any good and Cavalier servant, Mustang went back, bared his horsey teeth, nipped LeBaron with a strong jaw grip, picked him up, and carried him away like a cat with a squirmy kitten, "Wherever I go, Yugo."  Here, too, sightseers could point and chuckle.

Into the eastern meadow Mustang and LeBaron returned, to Tahoe, meaning big waters, to the lake and its waterfall, to spend their remaining days lazing in the sun, and grazing in the grass.   "...  like a couple of Smart asses", thought King Mercury, who was Fit to be tied over his mangled strangled topiaries and climbing vines.

"Where'd the other one go?  Where's that Indian?" he bellowed to the guards.  The guards, with one Accord, though convulsed with laughter, were able to Valiant-ly point to the western woods.  "He's a runner!  On the cobbled road.  There!  We've got a runner!  A Road-runner!"

Mercury grumbled, "Good riddance!",  as he put his Cutlass in its sheath and retired to his Imperial chambers.  Emptying his pockets onto a Charger, he was further Spark-ed,

"We need a wily coyote for that feather-crested cuckoo!"

Darling Hubby About Died

Yep, if you read that title you'll know that Darling Hubby about died yesterday.   Yep.  He about died ... from laughing.

Let's start with a couple-three jokes.  You all know that old joke, "What looks good on a lawyer?  A doberman pincher"?

And then there's "What looks good on hippies? Flames." 

And, "What looks good on a dog?  Sandpaper, it's rough-rough!"

Ha, ha, ha.  Now, for the background story.  We bought a used washer-dryer set from a neighbor man.  The dryer stayed on the truck since we were gonna turn around and re-sell it.  The washer had to be unloaded.  

The ground was snow covered, there was sneaky ice underneath the snow.  No help was to be found...one son at work, 1 son too infirm, 3 sons out of town.  Washer's aren't too heavy so we decided between the two of us we could wrangle it to the tailgate, then lift it with our hands on its bottom edge, and walk it to the landing of the deck, thus avoiding three steps.  So far so good.

I was thinking, "This is doable.  It really isn't too heavy.  I'll stand here on this side of the landing while he gets himself and his side maneuvered up and over."

I shouldn't have thought.  Many times when I was younger I'd start a sentence with, "Dad, I was thinking....."  and he'd say, "Maybe you'd better quit thinking."  ROFL.

So, there I was two hands gripping the edge of a metal white washing machine, the little quarter inch lip cutting into my hands, my mind thinking, my body waiting, and my feet standing  in snow, when it happened.  My right foot slide forward!

Yep.  I'd lost it.  

That washing machine leaned my way.  (Do slow motion film unwinding here.)   A white square block came upon me and was blocking my view of anything.  My back was in the snow.  My bad foot was bracing the base of the washer.  My two hands were up and spread apart on either edge of the washer. 

It seemed to be hanging in midair.  DH was pulling in the opposite direction and extremely upset, "Are you okay?"  And I was.  I was fine.  I was laughing at my stupidity in NOT wearing shoes that would grip in the snow.  

He jumped off the landing and rescued me.  

Like I said, I was fine, and we finished "walking" it into the house.  In case you're wondering, I've not suffered the slightest thing.  No bruises, no soreness, and my foot never hurt.  Wonderful!  Miracle!

Now, that time has passed, it's a funny story.   Like "The Day The Circus Came To Town" this was "The Day The Washer Came Down." LOL!

And the story gets told many times that day and the next.  

To hear DH tell it, it's quite the joke.  Like the one about the neighbor, "What would look good on your neighbor?  A mask."

He's now asking family and friends, with an conspiratal twinkling eye to the men,

"Do you know what looks good on your wife?

A Whirlpool!"

Ba-Da-Boom, Ba-Da-Bing!

3 Quips, Hubby's Quick

3 Quick Quips

Me talking to John:  "I can't find my glasses."

Being silly, I bent to bestow him a kiss, saying,  "You're getting more handsome by the minute."

His wit isn't to be outdone, his response?  "You'll never find them lady!  Away with them!  Gone!"

********

At the local hardware store we were needing help, when a tall, dark, and handsome associate came to assist us, "What can I do for you, Miss?"

I laughed and turned to hubby, "Miss!  He called me Miss!"

John's quick reply?  "Yah, cause you're standing next to an old geezer."

*********

Darling Hubby and son and I were driving along scouring the business numbers on the buildings trying to find a flea market in Anderson that we'd never been to before.  On google maps it was called The Hope Chest.

DH, darling hubby, keeps calling it Toy Box.  "No, John, it's The Hope Chest, not Toy Box" 

He laughs and tells our son. "Keep driving.  We're not going through women's things in a cedar box!"