That was yesterday. The wireless temperature gauge outside the master bedroom read 97.7. Today it's reading just over 101. Is this autumn weather or is it an Indian Summer? And just what is an Indian Summer and where did that come from? Why isn't 101 the end of September a Donna Summer? . . . you know, the old Disco Queen. She was hot and now in the autumn of her life . . . just like it is in Cowtown on September 27th. Autumn. Hot. Just like Donna Summer.
When the sun goes down and it's a bit cooler we retreat outdoors to a place just outside the family room. It's private. It's cool. It's not in the least bit a Donna Summer time of the day. We play games. Strip poker is popular. Hide the salami on the appetizer plate another. Duck, duck, GOOSE! is all mine.
In our little outdoor space carved into our large one acre backyard we eat. We drink. We laugh. We romp with the dogs. We don't answer the phone. We talk about what was and what could have been. Then we count our blessings and become overwhelmingly thankful for what is.
In the chapters of life (which chapter are you on?) is this the autumn of our lives or is it our Donna Summer?
If it's a Donna Summer then Wifey's a Bad, Bad Girl, Love Love You Baby, Hot Stuff, Last Dance, She Works Hard for Her Money (that would be Wifey) and I Feel Love . . . all over my rapidly decaying little body.
Sums up this lad's autumn chapter of life? Maybe. Just maybe. Whatever the case I'm sticking to it.
Should I add that it's all good? Well it is. And that's a fact, Jack!