September’s End

September 30, 2007 at 5:55 pm (The Easy Chair)

As much as I love football, and as much as I appreciate John Madden, I had to put him on mute. The sounds drifting into my room are much nicer.

The hum of the freeway, like a cross between the ocean and a beehive. The pitter-patter of the rain, which switches from drizzle to downpour without notice.

What’s missing is just as nice. No thump of the neighbor’s new Fiddy Cent album. No mariachi music. Little or no dog barking. (The herd of chihuahuas around the corner must be in the house today.) No leaf blowers or lawn mowers. Just an occasional siren.

I noticed the breakfast places were doing a jamming business this morning. (Maybe because diners can’t sit out on the sidewalks.) The quiet place ThatGirl and I have been frequenting had a crowd waiting by the time we left.

Another nice thing about this time of year; ThatGirl starts cooking more. Instead of slaving over a hot stove, we’d go out on Saturday nights. Now, the hot stove and its yummy smells serve a dual purpose. One can warm their hands, and we eat well while saving a small fortune.

Like last night, for example. She announced we were dining in. On the menu? Halibut, rice pilaf and apple crisp. The halibut was Parmesan cheese and bread-crumb encrusted, a huge fillet we split, and would have cost $50 at a decent restaurant.

The apple crisp was a surprise. She’s made it for me in various forms since we began hanging out, always tweaking the recipe. Last night, she was tired but made it anyway. She tossed a handful of this and that, a sprinkle of this, another handful of that, and voila! Perhaps the most perfect one yet!

I have another theory: she knows just about how long I can last before having an apple-cinnamon fix. Usually this involves The Original Pancake House. (Try the apple pancakes and bacon. Hog heaven!) Since the place is a madhouse on a slow day, with no outside covered area to wait we would have been cranky, wet and/or disappointed.

She claims it wasn’t premeditated, but I’m giving her credit for it anyway.

So now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get ready for work tomorrow. The umbrella’s in the backpack. Now all I need to do is remember which pile of black clothes my hoody is in…

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