Photo credit: Disney |
I am maternal. I am ambitious. I am not as competitive as an ambitious person should be, but maybe that's just empathy.
I have a friend whose son shipped him a very expensive sports car from the West Coast. I have a sneaking suspicion the boy is ready to collect his inheritance, since he knows his father is a tippling, poker-playing retiree with disposable income to spare. I had the misfortune of riding with this man at 10:00 am, and thankfully, gratefully, living to regret it. I bellowed the headline you see up there, after being put beside the road a quarter-mile from my house on a hot August morning in Carolina. Alas, that was not enough for me. You don't see many June apple trees around anymore, but this straggler had oodles of fruit--some hard and shriveled, some mushy and putrid. I did the windmill, and pelted that sleek little machine for all I was worth, as my horrified children begged me to stop. It's a good thing I cain't throw. That little mid-life crisis concluder was aaallll fiberglass. I so was shocked to cause a dent near the passenger-side running board that I missed the next few throws. Gave me time to calm down.
Surprisingly, I still count this gentleman among my closest associates. He used to be one of my friends, until he almost killed me and my kids driving drunk early on a Thursday morning. He'll be my friend again when he takes my advice and stops drinking and driving.
I'm headed out to David Amerland's HO. Just came from Eric Enge's outstanding offering. More on that later. It relates. Really. Thank you for taking the time to read this blog. #FriendsofMalachiMaxwellGlass
No comments:
Post a Comment