Wednesday morning, while traveling to school in the black-skied downpour, The Pony and I saw an intriguing sight.
Our route takes us by a cemetery. It abuts the road. There's a part on top of a rolling hill, and a newer part that slopes toward the river, with a mausoleum. Every now and then I drive through, when I'm alone. My dad is buried there. You can't see him from the road.
But what you CAN see from the road is the cemetery office. And what The Pony and I saw on that thunderstormy morning, through intermittent flashes of lightning, was a dark man. He slouched against the door. Like one of those wooden cowboy cutouts. Maybe you don't have them in the city. Dark man silhouettes, or those cowboy cutouts. I'm sure he was just another road-walker, caught in the downpour, looking to avoid the sluicing rainwater for a few minutes. But it was creepy to catch him out the corner of my eye. Of course I called his attention to The Pony. Why should I be the only one with nightmares?
It would have been better if it was a road woman. One who looked like a bent-over, flowered-dress, yard lady flaunting her ample rumpus. She even has a name, you know. Backside Lady. And her measurements are 38, 26, 1/2. She would not have scared me, lurking there in the dark doorway of the cemetery office. Something like that would have given my dad a good laugh. He's the kind of guy who would ask for a Backside Lady to be placed on his cemetery plot. So you COULD see him from the road. And just to make people laugh.
I got my sense of humor, walking that tightrope between socially acceptable and terribly inappropriate, from him. Much to my mom's chagrin.
Speaking from one who doesn't walk that tightrope--I skip on the side of inappropriate all the time with one foot in my mouth at all times--welcome to the club, Val.
ReplyDeleteI'm a very good hopper. You have to be when one foot is constantly in your mouth.
ReplyDeleteyou should really take this shtick to the stage; you are FUNNY.
ReplyDeleteI visited my great grandfather's grave in Pennsylvania, and saw granite backside lady and backside gentleman tombstones. Yes, I took a picture.
ReplyDeleteSioux,
ReplyDeleteYou are quite talented. May I suggest that you seek the employ of the circus? Even without tightrope experience, I have an inkling that skipping with one's foot in one's mouth will pique their interest.
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Stephen,
Wow! Two new circus employees in one night! I'm going to buy a front-row ticket and some cotton candy with my finder's fee.
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Linda,
I am on stage daily. From 8:12 to 2:56, with a break from 9:09 to 9:59. No cover charge.
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Joanne,
Dang it! We are SO backwards here in Missouri! And we even have our own granite. That's a travesty of backside proportions.
I was so proud I'd yoga'd myself so flexible that I could weed my garden by just bending over. Then hubby said I looked like a backside lady---so I got some flowered bloomers.
ReplyDeleteSpooky what you can see out of the corner of your eye. Can't tell if it's plywood moose or a real one until it steps in front of your car.
Leenie,
ReplyDeleteDon't fret. My husband once told me I was like an elephant. And a separate time, he said my skirt reminded him of a circus tent. At least you're something people want to put in the yard. I am ridden in a parade, and drape myself over the multitudes.