guess who's coming ...

A quick trip to the grocery for a couple of things for a simple dinner. I was looking forward to just "laying low" or "hanging out" that evening after a busy weekend. The Gardener was gardening ... and looked at me sheepishly as I drove into the driveway. I rolled down the window, asking him what the look was about. "Guess who I invited for dinner?" he answered. Having our neighbor over for a meal was not in my plans for dinner that night.

Of course when MY plans get thwarted, I'm not happy. The Gardener knew that, but he also knew me well enough to know I'd "come around" and that we are a team in this marriage stuff. After all these years, we work pretty well together. So he quietly listened to me fuss and fume for awhile.

I actually did have plenty of chicken, and proceded to marinate it. I had the veggies I needed to roast some of those and got going on that before the day got too hot. Meekly the Gardener went off to buy some ice cream bars for a simple dessert.

It was our 88 year-old neighbor lady he had invited. While I was at the store, they were talking out in the street, and she mentioned her husband was buried in Arlington, where she also would be buried. Maybe the Gardener felt sorry for her alone-ness, or appreciated her husband's sacrifice for our country ... For whatever reason he felt like asking her to join us and she accepted his invitation readily (and later asked me if I had "read him the riot act" for asking her before asking me!)

The reason I wasn't so enthusiastic is that I have trouble understanding her way of speaking. Her French accent is as heavy as probably the day she moved here as a war bride. I was imagining how difficult our dinner conversation might be. So I did what I needed to do; I prayed about it. And asked forgiveness for my attitude.

Of course sitting across the table from her, I was able to understand 99.8% of what she said. And she told us interesting stories. What an amazing woman. Knowing how much yard work she'd done that day, I wondered how she would have the energy to come join us. But right on the dot of 6 pm I peeked out the window and she was on her way. Walking sprightly, she was dressed as cute as can be in a blue jean skirt, crisp collared white blouse, red slip on sandals and carried a chilled bottle of wine in a colorful wine bag. I never before realized she had two piercings in each ear --diamond studs and big hoops. This gal is on the ball. Did I say she is 88?

Three hours flew by. She was game to eat on our hot porch (yes, we're breaking records here with the August-like heat.) My only question is why we didn't have her over sooner. Sigb. The Gardener seems to usually, if not always, know best.