The music of our lives

{and just like that, Monday rises once more}

A lovely weekend here, thanks. The weather sprang up warm and beautiful–the perfect backdrop for the neighborhood ice cream man to make his debut.

Unfortunately, the man gives me the heebie-jeebies.

It’s not so much that he drives a grey van that’s losing paint at an alarming rate (it happens) or his some-r teeth (some are there, some are not); it’s not even his peculiar song selections (Pop Goes the Weasel followed by love theme from Romeo and Juliet). No, it’s more of a general uneasiness associated with the fellow, as if an aura of creepiness, precedes him. Needless to say, when I heard him come up the side street on Saturday, I panicked. Washing my car, I opted for the make-no-eye-contact ploy. I ask you: has that strategy ever worked? Because it certainly didn’t work for me. Even as I intently washed one particularly tricky bit of grime from a window, I could tell he turned down my street, and slowed behind my drive.

“My windows sure could use some help, too,” he yelled from the window.

I {courtesy} laughed in response. And that, was that.

But seriously, if I ever mysteriously disappear, you might want to check out the ice cream man. I’m just sayin’.

In other news, at lunch on Mother’s Day, I learned my great-grandfather was a Pig Latin Master. Who knew? Certainly not I. Having never met the man, all I knew of grandpa Ted was he was serious, even to the point of being a bit cantankerous. It tickled me to no end that he took great pride in his Pig Latin skills–even going so far as demanding whole conversations be spoken in such.

So it was my grandma, mom, and I sat around a candle lit table–coffee mugs in hand, Dean and Frank crooning softly in the background–and chatted in Pig Latin.

Itway isway ethay ittlelay ingsthay. Obviously.

I guess you could say, overall, it was a fabulous weekend. Especially since I got to chat with my brother and nephew. More often than not my nephew is much too busy to talk. Who could blame him, really? But yesterday, he had all sorts of things to say.

Music to our ears.

He also wanted us to watch Beeker’s rendition of Ode to Joy. My brother Skyped the link and we watched it together. Funny, yes–but also a good reminder. Joy’s a funny thing; it can grace our lives even when things are not going exactly as planned. Even Mondays, when we’re not quite prepared to face the music . . .


  • 14 May, 2012 - 10:15 am | Permalink

    That's a hilarious weekend and I will be watching out for the ice cream man now ::shudder::. Sounds like a scary movie plot
    My recent post Mother of mine

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