It’s the same sad story, from warm to cold

It’s the same sad story.

Summer doesn’t last forever, but this October surely has been offering one beautiful bonus day after another.

Last Saturday morning, I had almost convinced myself to take advantage of the optimum weather conditions to trim back some flowers and put away the “carnival show” for the season — Better Half’s name for the overabundance of bright-at-night solar lights flickering in all the flower beds.

It would be a good day to put away some outdoor furniture and decorations.

I was sitting on the back porch, contemplating doing all that sort of be-a-responsible adult stuff, telling myself that it would be a good idea to do that, to tackle outdoor things while it’s nice outdoors — duhhh — but I was thinking all the while that, boy, does my Saturday-morning life lack sizzle and spontaneity.


Work, work, work. Project one. Project two. Project three.

Then the phone rang.

It was my brother Jay, calling from Columbus, to check in on his “little baby girl sister,” as he calls me. It’s one of many names he calls me along with Fergie, Jan Jan, Hahn-u-shish-ku-tee and Woozer.

I call him Jaybird Tweet Tweet. Sometimes Berferd. And every once in a while I slip in a sly one and call him by his given name.

What is it with siblings having nicknames for each other?

Better Half just rolls his eyes when Jay and I talk on the phone or in person, mainly because I am transformed to new and notable levels of silliness. Why can’t we be “normal,” Better Half wonders. Can’t you two have a dignified conversation?

No, I assure him, we cannot.

And why would we want to do that anyway?

My brother casually wondered what was on my Saturday agenda. I confessed about the back yard work detail I had assigned myself to do, even though the flowers were still blooming pretty nicely and I was reluctant to bid farewell too soon to all that beauty just because it was sensible to do during warm weather.

Long story short, he talked me out of it and suggested other pursuits of a nonworking nature.

I liked that idea.

We chatted, laughed, played catch-up on family and nonfamily news and laughed some more.

The rest of the day I devoted to nothingness in his honor and mine.

Better Half and I went “sailing” — off to yard sales at my insistence. He made like a Girl Scout cookie and played “Tag-A-Long,” bless his heart.

I’m not sure why it feels so good to go to a lot of yard sales and get a bunch of stuff you probably don’t really need. I suppose because it’s a bargain. And some day, if you’re moderately motivated, you, too, can host a yard sale and help someone else accumulate things they don’t really need.

That’s the cycle of that.

The day included getting pumpkins and cornstalks for the front porch, decorating for fall after months of a patriotic theme played out there.

And there was casual shopping for this and that, including canned cat food. I shared more than one expression of terror with fellow cat owners shopping in the same aisle, concern elevated over the shortage of feline food on the shelves.

This weekend I’m probably going to get busy on that delayed flower bed work.

And that’s appropriate. The weather’s going to be yucky, a fine time to make like a responsible adult and work outdoors.

It’s the same sad story.


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