Friday, January 29, 2010


Laughing Later


We said we would laugh about it later, both of us a tad uncertain how long it might take for the experience to become funny.

So begins this, a true story.

Though it reads like the tallest of tales.......


Commemorating our January wedding anniversary in the high style it deserves presents the occasional problem, as the weather rarely cooperates in celebratory fashion. I suppose, ideally, we should take off for warmer climes, fly away from the grey skies of home to relax on a pink sand beach, cradling fancy little drinks in our pale little hands as we await Swedish massages and dinners that end with creme brulee. We have indeed done just that several times. More realistically however, we usually opt for a nice dinner out, swaddled in coats and scarves and often dodging icy raindrops enroute. Over the past couple of years, we have enjoyed anniversaries en famille, with both Edward and Apple coming along for the celebration, usually a hike in the woods or an outing at the lake. One such trip occurred two years ago, with decidedly unexpected results.


Our anniversary fell on a Sunday that year and we had headed out to one of our favourite destinations, a lovely, rather romantic, garden setting a couple of hours from town. It was a beautiful day, graced with the most salubrious sort of weather, especially for a January. We had a marvelous time, all four of us, following winding trails in the winter sunlight, sipping hot cocoa by the glassy lake. Eventually, the light turned to mauve and dusk was upon us, so we all headed to the car, the four of us tired and happy and ready for our dinners. Little did we know, much like the fabled musician who fiddled away during the burning of Rome, as we were frolicking in the woodland, there in the parking lot, unbeknownst to us, our car had expired.


Blithely unaware as we were, we turned the key and immediately discovered our trusty Passatt overheating in a way that cars are just not supposed to do. Slowly, slowly, we coasted out of the gardens, hoping to make it to help, all the while well aware that Sunday evening in the middle of nowhere was not the best time or place to find it.


The only establishment open in town was Little Piggies, a restaurant whose very name was a certain hindrance to any female appetite. We pulled in and The Songwriter ventured inside, leaving me with the dogs, who were attempting to remind me, through piercing, focused stares, that their own dinnertimes were fast approaching. The Songwriter soon returned with an address of a “hobby” mechanic scrawled on the back of a greasy menu, and we limped away down the road.


Turning into the man’s driveway a few seconds later, my heart, which had been teetering on the edge of fear, much like Humpty Dumpty atop his wall, finally fell with a thud. A more vividly Southern gothic scene could not have been imagined. We bounced along in the ruts of the drive, past an enclosure full of slack-jawed bloodhounds, and came to a pitiful halt in front of a faded old barn on which a homemade sign bore the words - written in red and in such tiny letters they practically screamed for a psychoanalyst’s interpretation - ”cash only and no checks from wachovia bank”.


No one was in sight, but I had the distinct feeling that we were being watched. Sure enough, Edward and I turned to look to our right and discovered a herd of donkeys placidly gazing our way from their place in a pen by the barn, their dull expressions perfect pictures of asinine ennui. Of course, Edward immediately told Apple to look (!), and the chorus of barks and growls than ensued was deafening.


As we sat there, in the dying car, in the total darkness, in the freezing cold, hours from home, on our wedding anniversary, waiting for a “mechanic” we’d never clapped eyes on, questions naturally arose. What if he didn’t show up. What if he couldn’t fix the car. What if he turned out to be a homicidal maniac who intended to eat us for dinner. The dogs were quiet. They knew this was serious.


To be continued on Saturday night......


31 comments:

  1. Oh how can you leave me in suspense until Sunday!

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  2. Little Piggies...heehee...love it!

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  3. You've left us hanging, cliffhanger style!

    "Asinine ennui" made me laugh . . . and never mind the inference, I'd like a look at the Little Piggies greasy menu, please.

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  4. You remind me of a time my mother's southern accent conjured up a live mechanic in the middle of nowhere Texas at a Stucky's on a Sunday. Hadn't thought of it in years. AND he wouldn't let my mother pay.

    Can't wait for the rest of your story.

    Garden & Be Well, XO Tara

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  5. Dear Pamela, This is delicious! I am hanging on every word. Until Saturday....!

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  6. Can anyone who doesn't share their lives with Polish Lowlands have any idea what a PON chorus sounds like? It is a sound unlike any other.

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  7. This leads one to realize why Dickens and other serial novelists did so well...the anticipation!

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  8. Fun story! Now, I can't wait for Saturday!

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  9. Oh Pamela you have me on the edge of my seat. I've watched too many episodes of "Criminal Minds" to feel at ease over this situation.

    Sorry I've been so MIA, I've missed your clever, entertaining writings.

    Until Sunday x

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  10. Oh Pamela...you rotter. I need to know what happened... NOW !!
    but, I will have to be patient and wait until Sunday. XXXX

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  11. Patience is not my strong point Pamela!
    This is going to be a challenge.
    I'll check back on Saturday.

    xo
    Brooke

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  12. LOL!!...Oh this is good...Can't wait to find out how this turns out..

    ...At least you didn't hear banjo music or spot Ned Beatty... er...squealing like a pig :-O

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  13. Oooh . . . I can't wait for the rest. I love the detail about no checks from Wachovia Bank! xoxo

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  14. Ooooo...the suspense is too much.Our car when we lived far out in the country failed on the way to a rich old aunt's birthday bash in the city. We too were in the middle of nowhere in a scene such as you've described. Had visions of our two empty seats at the head table and hasty repairs were done.Needn't have worried. Family turned out to be the unpaid labour.None of us sat all night.I'm looking forward to Sunday!!

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  15. Now you've got me hooked on the installment!
    Can't wait!

    XX
    V.

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  16. Can't wait to see what happened next! suzie. xxx

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  17. Saturday night??? I can only hope that this year's anniversary was spent in front of a roaring fire...at home!

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  18. Hello P&E,

    This is not fair! But at least we know you all made it back home to tell the tale!

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  19. Oh, you little stinker. If you only knew how I hate mini series. Hehehe, can't wait till tomorrow.
    Wow, what a great way to have folks visit your blog again. Not that you need any reason as I always enjoy my visits.

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  20. Oooh!

    Roll on Saturday night!!

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  21. Oh, I can't wait. Obviously, you didn't get eaten, but it's fun to think that you didn't know that at the time...

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  22. I want to know the end of the story now ! I do hope that it was perfect and wonderful this year :)

    xo
    Anci

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  23. Can't wait, Pamela! Sunday night can't come soon enough.

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  24. Shades of, The Rocky Horror Picture Show' Pamela....I am waiting for the next instalment with fingers crossed hoping there is no Dr Frank-N-Furter about to appear...xv

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  25. Well.....as we say in the South,
    " I'll be dipped "! Can't wait for the end to this!

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  26. O Dear...I do want to know how this story will end...Happy I hope...Congrats my dear...I will make a toast, to many many years more...

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  27. what a lovely blog you keep ... and now, you leave me within this mystery! i shall return again...i have spent several lovely minutes simply reading one lovely thing upon another and learned a new word..or two ;)

    "Asinine ennui" is the best!

    thank you♥

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  28. You left your audience wanting to hear more.. the best part is knowing you are well today and so hoping it turned out fine! :)
    Happy Anniversary

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  29. Can't wait for episode 2. I know the mechanic didn't bump you off but I'm wondering what happened next.

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I love to read your comments! Each and every one! Though I'm always reading your comments, I may not respond in the comment section. If you want to write me directly, you may do so at pamela@pamelaterry.net. Thank you for reading!