Saturday, June 23, 2007

Sometimes we have a perfect day. Yesterday was one. Even the weather gloriously cooperated... sunny, around 70 degrees, breezy with blue skies and the kind of puffy white clouds you remember as a child.

Tom and I drove around town to yard sales and the weather being remarkable, people practically sang in the streets everywhere we went. I told Tom I needed an electric mixer because mine (free with a supermarket promotion eons ago), gagged and died. So what did we spy at the next yard sale sealed, unopened in its original box? Yes, a mixer, and for just $3. We even played with the owner's adorable rat terrier puppy and laughed as he raced around us in utter glee.

We drove through McDonalds and ordered from their oh-so-healthy menu (heh), then took our breakfast to the river where, oh my! Ten of the sweetest, tiny baby ducks waddled around with their mom along the lawn right in front of our car as we sat and munched and read. And one seagull told all his friends to buzz-off because we belonged to him--and we did... he was patient, silent and we tossed English muffin pieces and egg out the windows to him.

More yard sales, then we drove home to place our new toys away upon hutch shelves and Tom even tried-out the reverberating mat which he'd bought for his back. He laid down upon it on the living room carpet while I sat upon the love seat watching the sun and leaf shadows dance across the floor. I stepped out to the front porch to soak up the breeze and sun and then Tom came out, said the pulsating mat had made him feel rejuvenated and so why not go to more yard sales?

Which we did.... A couple out in the countryside and then some over in the next town. And to end our perfect day, we stopped at just about the most old-fashioned hamburger stand you could ever hope to find in 2007. It's a little place tucked into a tiny old town on the river, with tables below a yellow bug-lighted covered area and umbrella patio tables stretched over the river. (I won't mention this is all practically beneath a rumbling thruway overpass. The ambiance and ice-cream cone caricatures artwork are 1950-ish enough to make you forget that part.) Tom and I sat at the best table on the deck, he ate a hot dog, I shared his fries and drank a strawberry-banana milkshake and we both gazed down at the river and listened to the people around us.

I also stared at a large old white house with awnings and a lawn which sloped down to the river over on the other side and tried to picture the street which must lead to it and we wondered aloud if we'd buy that house even at a giveaway price, given it's proximity to the overpass. We discussed emissions and noise and decided, probably not. But after we left the hamburger stand, out of my own curiosity, we decided to try to find the way over to the house and alas! I was right to wonder how one approached the house--from a regular street you must turn right and drive about half a block down a gravel road --a gravel road! Imagine, a gravel road in the city. Well, to glimpse that type of seclusion, I changed my mind and decided I'd buy that house for a just-take-it price, thruway next-door, even.

And so we drove home, slowly coming out of a 1950's fog and back into 2007, out of a day which felt more like a week's vacation... back to perfect blue skies and breezes and our wannabe Blondie and Dagwood house--and each other.

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