After dinner walk.
This
evening, Mrs. MORT’s meanderings suggested that following dinner, we
should take a walk in the neighborhood. Sounded like a reasonable and
workable idea and so I concurred (caved), as is my long-established
habit, calculated to maintain a semblance of peace as we enter the
twilight of our time here in La La Land.
After
a nice dinner at home, we prepared to set off on our perambulatory
tour. Normally, when out for such a stroll, I would select a walking
stick to add a touch of bon vivant swagger to the adventure.
However,
about two years ago, my entire collection of canes, shillelaghs and
walking sticks, and the rococo ceramic umbrella stand that contained it,
became noticeable by its absence. At the time, when I questioned Mrs.
Meanderings about it, she informed me that I never used those sticks and
she’d given them to her Son, who sold things at Flea Markets. Three
days passed before I could once again breath normally. That was just
about the same time my voice returned. At that juncture, while it
seemed to make sense to commence breathing again, I made a conscious
decision not to speak. It was the right decision.
So,
sans an exotic stick with which to aid my swagger and to possibly
provide a weapon for use against the odd, unleashed mongrel, I reached
for my Metric stick. I like to keep up with technology and so several
years ago, I replaced our faithful old Yard stick (36’ long) with a
Metric stick (39” long). Ready, set, go.
We
set off to circumnavigate our block, clockwise. We’d barely traversed a
hundred yards when both Mrs. Meanderings and I simultaneously, began
to chant litanies of our individual aches & pains - both direct
and referred, strange tweaks & twinges being experienced in our
lower extremities and unabashed admissions from each of us concerning
our frailties & fatigues that heretofore, had rarely if ever been
mentioned..
There
was mutual agreement that a turn of 180 degrees was in order. So we
made that turn and hobbled on down the home stretch toward the finish
line.
As
we approached Kuff’s Kozy Kourtyard, we both agreed that the next time
we decided to take a walk after dinner, we’d take the car.
MORT KUFF © 5-6-2013
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