“Beer!”
Two entries ago, I celebrated the coming of the fall season. Now I must report that the fall has ended and that summer has come again. Temperatures this weekend were in the mid-to-high nineties (F). Skies were blisteringly clear. I kept the shades down to protect Ziva and Jasper from the ultraviolet rays.
This afternoon, Karin and her mother performed their post-equinox ritual of tromping around some local corn mazes. Karin returned sunburned, and, probably, dehydrated. She also brought home two small pumpkins that Ziva and Jasper keenly sniffed.
♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
At IUSB, I carry a small, green Perrier bottle. I drink from it throughout the day, refilling it at the water fountain.
On Friday, one of the tutees brought with her an old man – senile, disheveled, and toothless – who appeared to be under her care. They sat a short distance from my table while I tutored someone else.
The old man noticed my green Perrier bottle.
“Beer!” he said, and lumbered over.
“No! No!” we all exclaimed.
It was too late. The old man took a swig and sat at my table. “Beer.”
I let him keep the bottle. He was a jolly old man, prone to outbursts of contentment.
This afternoon, Karin and her mother performed their post-equinox ritual of tromping around some local corn mazes. Karin returned sunburned, and, probably, dehydrated. She also brought home two small pumpkins that Ziva and Jasper keenly sniffed.
♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
At IUSB, I carry a small, green Perrier bottle. I drink from it throughout the day, refilling it at the water fountain.
On Friday, one of the tutees brought with her an old man – senile, disheveled, and toothless – who appeared to be under her care. They sat a short distance from my table while I tutored someone else.
The old man noticed my green Perrier bottle.
“Beer!” he said, and lumbered over.
“No! No!” we all exclaimed.
It was too late. The old man took a swig and sat at my table. “Beer.”
I let him keep the bottle. He was a jolly old man, prone to outbursts of contentment.