"It's a beautiful day," she said opening the curtains to let the sun-smile in and then she gave me a peculiar look, which led me to wondering just what she meant by that remark.
We will soon be celebrating our 31st Halloween together and I must say that it's been more good than bad, just like each individual moment is more g than b. But then I suppose that 31 years is just a bunch of individual moments all bunged together until they make one big mountain of time.
We first met when this daughter of the Russian Enlightenment provided pumpkin-shaped cookies and apple cider for the inmates of the 2010 Nasa Road One in Clear Lake City, Texas.
On that day, so many Halloween parties ago, I was on friendly terms with her facilities engineer, Enrique. By that I mean that we had downed a good number of Dos Equis together.
But I knew this Wonder Woman not at all. I wanted to know her for she had a profile that would have the sultans and pashas clamoring to win her consent to join the quality harem. And that hasn't changed.
When I asked Enrique, that deserving son of Monterrey, about her status, he informed me that she was affianced and soon to walk the center aisle while the customers remove their hats and the organ plays "The Voice that Breathed O'er Eden."
I don't know if you've had the experience, perhaps not, but in my school years, I once blocked traffic underneath the basketball net to allow Mitchell Chambers elbow room for the lay-up.
Pay close attention because I am coming to the salient point. Being more mindful than I of the options in the moment, Mitchell made a choice that I had overlooked as being a possibility and passed the ball directly to me.
Well, I don't need to tell you the aftermath of passing a basketball at close quarters to a teammate who is not expecting it--ruin and damnation ensues, that's what.
It was an equally disastrous R and D that ensued upon learning that Wonder had so recently been taken out of circulation. I took it hard. The tremors reverberated, if that's the word, from brilliantined top knot to shoe sole. But what can the preux chevalier do in these circs?
One is either preux or one isn't, of course, and the only option for a parfait knight, like the Genome, is to accept the situation and get on with life. Live life on life's terms, is the way I've heard it said.
And so the long winter wore on until the day my office door opened and a face like a Mexican leprechaun peeked round to say, "She came in looking sour this morning and when I asked her about it, she said, I'll tell you what the problem is. That pig-headed, tyranical, uncompromising, jack-in-office that I have the good fortune to no longer be engaged to, that's the problem."
Do I need to say that two minutes later I was in her office with the rent check and a suggestion that what might cheer her up was the new romantic comedy opening on Friday at the Bijou? She accepted the offer. It surprised me no less than it surprised you to learn of it.
Perhaps for her it was merely something do to pass the time, but for me, it was like hearing you'd been chosen for a second interview in heaven. And what of it if on that Friday, when we parked at the theatre, I tried to get out of the car before unbuckling? I think you understand.
This woman is the brightest star in my firmament and I am so grateful for so many things that went right--that Enrique was on my side, that the movie was about a loser who is transformed when he falls in love with one of the quality, and, oh yeah, I'm grateful that the movie was about a great big, full moon too. One can't go wrong with a full moon.