James Taylor, peach chenille and Girl Scout cookies

Whenever I see your smiling face…

Yesterday, I ended up without having any kids at home unexpectedly. Mim and Dolly were having dinner with their dad. I got in bed to avoid the dogs needing me out in the living room. I may have brought with me the second half of a box of Girl Scout cookies- Samoas. I spent an hour deciding what to buy on audible with my credits. I read tons of little blurbs and checked the number of stars. And I ended up with this piece of love and light. James Taylor talking about his early life.

His voice.

The audible recording is 1hr hour and 33 min.

An hour into James telling me personally about his life while strumming his guitar, George called for a ride home from track practice. It was cold and raining, so I couldn’t say no. I tucked my phone into the curve between my chest and the seat belt and strained to listen to my old friend talk about his teenage years. George hopped in and I listened rudely for a few more minutes at which point I turned off JT and asked Gidge about his day. I can’t tell you what he said. “Blah Blah, No homework. Blah.”

Through the rain. Past the desperate for attention dogs. I dashed back under my well loved peach chenille blanket. I bought this coverlet years ago at an estate sale. Two older ladies were selling their belongings in their drive way. I asked how much and one lady said fifteen dollars. I started to get my money out. The older woman stopped us and said to her friend, “I’m not sure I want to sell that.” It was lovely with peach pom poms hanging jauntily all around the edges and chenille polka dots covering the surface. The woman who had told me the price, took my money and told the other woman that the whole purpose of the sale was to get rid of stuff and we aren’t taking anything back inside. I sprinted back to my car before anyone fought me for my treasure.

The pom poms are missing now but the thinness provides just the right weight in warm weather and it is the perfect layer of security between my dry skin and a wool afghan in winter. I snuggled in and parked the computer on my middle so I could stare at James’ kind eyes while he told me his stories.

At 1hr 22min, Mim came bounding in with Walt and the dogs all the way into my room. Walt apologized for accidentally letting the dogs in the back of the house. He glanced at my empty Girl Scout cookie container. And then asked me a question about Mim’s field trip to Tybee Island that is in a few days.

No one looks cute in bed with their head and shoulders propped up on pillows (I pronounce pillow “pella” so I do a double take when I try to spell it.) The way my head and neck curved forward so that my chin and my under chins become an upside landscape of hills and valleys. Oh Gawd. (How did Nora Ephron write a book about her neck? She was so thin.)

“We all look good for our age. Except our necks.” Nora Ephron

The cookies were a second course to my supper. The first course had been Eggo waffles. My peace was ruined. My date with James Taylor was trashed. Shame. Shame. Everyone knows your name. Lazy, Cookie Eating, Your husband Left you Martee.

After Walt left, I explained to Mim who James Taylor was and that I was going to listen for 10 minutes and then it would be over. She agreed. I struggled to regain sanity and get rid of the evil voice in my head that calls me a fool. ( I am chubby. I do not have a svelte jaw line. But the truth is I got it from my skinny Dad. He was always thin and he had a double chin that was exacerbated by the light shining happiness out of his face. My wise mind tells me to love my chin inheirited from a lovely man. But my evil mind is anxiously awaiting a street sign to fly my way in a tornado and relieve me of this affliction.)

Although Walt had just fed Mim dinner, she decided she was hungry. She opened the door to front room to find Dinner #2. She intended to let Linus back to our bedroom. But Frida barged in, ran circles on our bed. Chewed Mim’s precious headphones. As I rushed to grab the headphones, my toes moved the dotted chenille and Frida bit the hell out of my toe to save us all from the danger of a moving blanket.

She loves to snuggle Linus.
Not Frida.

I closed the computer and left James Tylor hanging at 1hr 31min.

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