Exercise class really kicked my butt, as in I couldn’t get my big butt off the floor. I don’t know what was different; I don’t think I gained any poundage in my posterior pouch. All I know is that, try as I may, my arms and belly muscles couldn’t get my derriere to moon the ceiling. I think I’ll blame it on all the hoeing I did the day before.
Greta had us all in stitches complaining that Deborah was asking an awful lot of us in commanding that we tuck our butts, suck our guts and breath – all while completing these various contortions. We’ve decided that Deborah must have escaped from a circus, so we’re considering starting Cirque du Coker Creek with her as the headliner. The girl is as limber as linguine after it’s been overcooked. I, on the other hand, feel more like an uncooked lasagna noodle.
After exercise, I arrived home to find a frustrated Richard. He was still trying to work out how to start the tractor. Richard calls this kind of situation “the infinite regression of steps”.
At first,we couldn’t fertilize because the ground was too wet. When the ground dried, we couldn’t plant until we turned the fertilizer into the soil. We couldn’t turn the fertilizer into the soil because the tractor wouldn’t start. We couldn’t start the tractor because the battery was dead. The battery was dead because there’s something wrong with the generator. So, Richard headed to the tractor dealer to purchase a manual on repairing a 1952 tractor.
He came home with the tractor manual, but he had other issues. His beloved Bronco II is acting up again. This is the last of his belongings from our pre-hurricane Katrina days (if you don’t count me, that is). He loves that truck like he loves our dog, and the truck is even useful (unlike our pretty puppy). The truck has been with him for twenty-one years and one hundred, seventy thousand miles. It is a part of who he is.
He’s always said that he’d get rid of it if it got to where it needed more repairs than it was worth. It’s been greasing our gravel driveway with oil for years; this was okay because it only cost a little bit to keep feeding the engine oil. The ignition and the alternator recently gave out, so he had them replaced – after all it was still a very reliable truck. Now, his new ignition is giving him fits, and the mechanic says it’s because his engine seals are failing so badly that they are flooding the ignition with engine oil. He can either decline life support in the form of five thousand dollars in repairs or bleed more money into his beloved Bronco II. What’s a daddy to do?
He called Charlie, who really knows and loves classic cars. The Bronco II is now officially a classic, having survived the crusher for over twenty years. Charlie’s going to give Richard a second opinion when he returns from his latest Antique Automobile Club of America event. Is it proper to pray for a possession that one feels is like a person?