"Hardly," I said.
"Too bad," she said, "I thought you'd be cheered by a walk on this beautiful morning. Did something go wrong to spoil it?"
"Just Mabd up to her old tricks," I said.
"Mabd?" she said."
"One of the Morrigan sisters," I said. Immediately, her twin eyebrows lifted, and wrinkles appeared on her forehead. It was the kind of look I'd expect if I had told her I was giving up qigong.
"Celtic goddess," I continued. "A triune, in fact: Mabd, Macha, and Nemain. You probably haven't heard of them."
“No, I haven’t,” she replied, but I decided to move on anyway, recalling a lesson from the day I lost control of my bike in loose gravel—it seemed like a good idea at the time, but it ended with me in a heap in the ditch.
"Yesterday, driving down Ocean Highway listening to the 60's station..."
"You mean 60's on 6, the SiriusXM station."
"You're behind the times, Poopsie. It's, the SXM station, but it's Channel 73 now."
"Why did they change the channel?"
"It's something people do when they're bored," I said. "Let's stay on topic or I'll never get this story told. The programming schedule has recently been changed and the only song they play by Sonny and Cher is Baby Don't Go. I've heard it every day for several days in a row."
"Oh, too bad," she said. "I'll bet you're tired of it."
"Wonder," I said. "Princess Amy was spot on when she said that with all the hit songs that fantastic duo had in the 60s, surely SXM could find room for some of their other hits."
"Princess Amy is in your head," she said.
"Right," I said, "she sits atop my medulla oblongata, next door to the hippocampus. She's bicameral, you know. There are two sides of her--one for each hemisphere, making it impossible to escape her influence."
"My point is that she's your amygdala," she explained. "You often say she's a spoiled little brat, and I like to remind myself that you know the difference."
"Spoiled little brat, my ass," said Amy. "I'll make her think spoiled little brat."
"Calm down," I said. "No need to get your knickers in a wad."
"I am calm," said the Wonder, "and just what are you implying when you say knickers? You're getting distracted."
Well, now I was distracted. I didn't want Wonder to know I actually have conversations with the defendant. My next remarks were carefully chosen, but Wonder spoke before I could say anything.
"Amy is nothing more than a cute name for your limbic system," she said. "It's fun, just like your lagoon creatures are fun, but they're pure fiction."
"Drivel!," Amy said." I may be obliged to listen to drivel now and again but I'll be damned if I'm going to listen to pure bilge. Tell her to put a sock in it!"
I bit my tongue because the urge to calm Amy down combined with the urge to correct Ms. Wonder on the subject of lagoon creatures was great. I'm sure you understand.
"Don't have anything to say? Does that mean that we're in agreement?"
"Back to the subject," I said, "it's a sad song--Baby Don't Go-- and I don't want to listen to sad songs. When I get sad, Amy finds more sad stuff to pile on until my cup overfloweth."
"Sorry, Babe," she said with a look that backed up her statement."
"Thanks," I said, "and to get back to the subject at hand, this morning driving down Ocean Highway listening to the 60's station, guess what happened?"
"Baby Don't Go?"
"No, Sonny and Cher singing Baby Come Back."
"You see? It's a sign--a sign that things have taken a positive turn."
"And you consider it proof that the Universe has your back. Mabd isn't in control."
Did you notice how she seemed to have accepted my theory about the sewer hapies. I can't say I wasn't pleased. But she continued.
"The Morgan sisters are no match for a positive attitude," she said."
"Not the Morgan sisters, Poopsie. The Morgan's are gospel singers who, I'm told, devote themselves solely to doing good in the world. No, it's not the Morgan's, it's The Morrigan Sisters. Their names are Nemain, Macha, and Mabd, and they're sewer harpies, the lot of them!"
She gave me a stern look and took a deep breath, but I hardly breathed. What happened next, I realized, would set the course for the rest of the day.
"There's a much better explanation for all this," she said. "Would you like to hear it?"
"Absolutely," I said, "but before you speak let me make you aware of the last bit of my story. Just so you have all the facts."
"By all means," she said. "Spill it."
I told her about seeing the sign for Crawl Space Ninjas in the turning lane coming home from the post office. Looking back, I think it might have been better left unsaid.
She gave me a look that wasn't one of her familiar patented looks. It was a look that I would expect if I told her I'd decided to raise cocker spaniels.
"Well," she said, "I suppose there's no arguing with that."
And without further comment, she shimmered and seemed to float up the staircase. Minutes later the sounds of her personal Spotify playlist floated down to me.
She gave me a look that wasn't one of her familiar patented looks. It was a look that I would expect if I told her I'd decided to raise cocker spaniels.
"Well," she said, "I suppose there's no arguing with that."
And without further comment, she shimmered and seemed to float up the staircase. Minutes later the sounds of her personal Spotify playlist floated down to me.
I went out onto the lanai with a cup of espresso, where Amy and I continued our discussion of the SiriusXM program schedule.