John left this morning for the long drive to retrieve our kiddoes from Northern Utah, where they’ve been staying with relatives for the past few weeks during my recuperation.
He rented a car to make the long drive (because our rarely-used beater isn’t up for such things anymore) and came home with a Mustang–the agency was out of every other kind of compact or economy car. When John brought the car home he revved it up a bit in the parking lot and then took me for a drive around the backside of the campus. When I closed my eyes I was in high school again, behind the wheel of my 70’s vintage Mustang, racing down Truxtun Ave with the stereo cranked up. I was so cool and free. It wasn’t until I bought my first “practical” car (a Nissan Sentra) that I realized the power that was the Mustang. It had been a police car, rebuilt by my grandpa for all of his hot dates with his then-girlfriend. When he died, it was my inheritance. When I went to college, my younger brothers took it over–and at that point it gained the appellation of “The Crustang”.
John’s already called twice three times today, one time just to sing to me (as he had when he left my bedside early this morning).
Because I’m in a reminiscent, sentimental mood, I’ll suggest a few good reads from past blogentries about John:
—John, singing for Jesus
—John and THE CHAIR
—John and his hair
–John is a priest and a pirate and a nemesis of Harry Potter
—John wears skirts (just for me)
—John fights werewolves
—John saves the day
–and, finally, John in almost all of his glory (with a youtube clip of our shipboard anniversary getaway that took us to Paris and beyond…)
The pic above is a family favorite–taken by a beloved professor friend (she was trying just to get a few romantic shots of John & I and the kiddoes kept creeping into the photo). This image hangs over our kitchen table.
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