Hiney up & World's best pie

Spring Equinox Day....Oh the Joy

Morning: I just had to pass on a quick story about my first day of Spring, starting with the Honda dealership.Their waiting room has a whole new 'lady friendly' decor (except for the gun metal grey cement walls and eau de motor oil). Chairs are Ikea style, heat-molded glued wood bent into a giant folding U with very comfy leather seating....they rock gently and seating angles to take pressure off lower lumbar. Halfway through reading a fabulous New Yorker article by John McPhee. ( p. 56, Feb 6 & 16 2009), I was pleasantly chatting with other women in the easy grouping facing the yappy flat screen tv, when the right side of my particular Ikea rudely chose to explode apart in some weird way....so that I ended with my blue jeaned hiney in the air and lengthy but very light scratches from splintered wood on my arm.

The dealership owner was paged and came running....To the chair...to pick it up in horror! "Man, I just got these used from a Caddylack dealership...I thought they were in great shape." The other women said, "What about HER?" "Oh yeah, are you Ok?" I was. I was laughing by then. My heart was laughing. It truly was funny. I said, "I'm amazed you got this lightweight Ikea from a Caddy dealer...Caddy drivers are usually big guys. That's why you were given such a great deal on this...Ikea doesn't do BIG Guys! Honda drivers are slim. See? " The women were nodding vigorously. He engulfed his broken hardware and woefully headed back to his office.....I'm sure I heard a muttered..."what I get for free crap.." I left with sore arms, a missing chunk of $ and this particular New Yorker edition which I'm still enjoying immensely. I don't want to give the New Yorker story details away but lets just say it has to do with Japanese fusen bakudan incendiary balloons crossing the Pacific in 1945 and ending up in Hanford in Richland, WA.....I'll say no more : )

Lunchtime: Met my godson’s mom at our favorite tea room. We do this every few months for girl talk. Our waitress described the specials and nothing sounded appetizing for some reason, so I did something I never do: “What are today’s desserts?” Diane was looking at me wide-eyed! And this is how I came to be lunching on the most fabulous piece of pie ever made. Rhubarb, cherry, cranberry apple pie served hot with warm creamy vanilla lemon custard poured over it. Oh, the joy!!! I was back in my granny Esther’s kitchen 50 years earlier savoring that unique sweet & tart rhubarb flavor that one never comes across anymore. Yep, that was my lunch! And then I said, “May I have another piece of rhubarb pie please?” Diane’s eyes bugged out of her head at this one. In our 25 year friendship, this was a first. All memories of hiney in the air and arm scratches vanished with every bite. I don’t even know how I remembered enough to write this I was so drunk on flakey crust homemade rhubarb pie swimming in custard. My heart was loving it. Esther was with me. I was 6 years old again. The sun was shining for the first time in bitter rainy weeks.

My neighbor’s tulip tree is in full pale lavender blossom now, visible from my upstairs bedroom like a giant bouquet. The ‘greening’ is not far behind and my back picket fence is lined with lushly flowering narcissus. Spring is truly arriving and my heart is loving it. Something unclenches in my chest when I see the landscape contours begin morphing from bare and stark, to pretty blossoms followed by bright green new leaves. Life seems to gentle and soften along with the spring temperatures. Cats are acting goofy and playful. ‘Whiner Squirrel’ takes up his favorite oak tree limb post outside my back bedroom window and does sound a little more cheery than his normal screech-croaking mantra. He’s been here since I moved in 6 years ago…evidently came with the house. There are 3 baby squirrels nesting noisily in my neighbor’s metal gutters. Lots of acorns fall into those gutters. I enjoy waiting for the warm to wash over my heart when I see these things. The ice cream truck is making its way through the neighborhood, musically calling children as their families walk home from the village churches. Thriving life. Happy heart.

I've made it to my 53rd spring.