So when the sun came out we jumped at the chance to walk the dog and then perhaps enjoy a delicious lunch at LaBaquette, never mind the cold blowing wind sailing in from the northwest. The winter view of the setting moon relaxed Jack and I, as we bundled up and began our hunkered down walk into the brisk north wind.
Lucy paid no attention to the wind nor to the afternoon moon, and in no time at all she was out of sight. We slowed down, held hands, and giggled like a couple suddenly without little children running through the house. Our eyes cast around looking for a low area out of sight, but this not our old Kansas field with tall grasses and miles of privacy.
Then without notice Lucy came charging from behind like a greyhound racing out of control. Always aware of her clipping abilities and how hard the ground can be when we fall, we both automatically stepped aside as she barreled through us. How proud she was when she galloped lightly back to us, with her helicopter tail in full spin. We'd been caught just thinking about sex! How reminiscent of moments with our children.
The remainder of the walk was just for Lucy, filled with chase scenes and hide-and-go-seek maneuvers by Jack, while I exploded with belly laughter as the two of them played. In the end, we loaded our now hot and sweaty bodies into the car. As Jack drove to Sonic (not even near LaBaquette), I noticed a text message from a friend. I felt compelled to explain why I hadn't replied earlier, so I wrote, "Jack and I have been out in the field sexercising."
She immediately replied, "What did you do?" Then I saw the error, and once again I laughed out of control. I guess it was either a spell check error, a Freudian slip, or perhaps just a wishful expression.
|Good Night Sun. Good Night Moon.|