Cowboy's Away! Sar's Gonna Play! - Day One
Cowboy had to fly down to the Naval base in San Diego, today - Coronado, to be exact. He is expected home Friday about 8pm - plenty of time to clean up my naughtiness before then.
He got up at 0-dark-thirty this morning. Dutifully, I sat up, intending to make some breakfast for him, but the lovely man told me to go back to sleep.
I stirred when he kissed me goodbye and I'm sure I heard his parting words. "Behave yourself."
If I behave like I normally do, I'm behaving. If I am really, really good.... I'm misbehaving, aren't I? Tsk. Decisions.
I woke up to really loud snoring sounds and discovered our Rott and Bull Mastiff sleeping in the doorway - I'd have to step over their "dead to the world" sleeping bodies. Guards dogs... of course, they're male so that explains everything.
I stepped into the shower and there was a note on the door. "Do NOT use my razor!"
Jeez! How'd he know?
By the time I made it to the kitchen, I had a feeling I was going to see more notes. Cowboy must have gotten up early just to post them. On the coffeepot, the note said "If you're going to drink coffee all day, make it half decaf so you're not swinging from the chandeliers."
Honestly, we don't own a chandelier.
The note on the refrigerator said "NO JUNK FOOD. There's plenty of green vegetables and fruit in the fridge. I want it all gone by the time I get home."
All gone? Sure, no problem. I'll shove it down the garbage disposal and when I went to stuff it down, the note... on the garbage disposal said "I disconnected it, Sar."
Damn! Okay, I'll wrap it up and take it to the food bank when I go into town to take care of some errands.
I am now starving and no honey oats, no cinnamon cheerios, no cereal worth wasting milk on. If I made eggs, I'd have to make 2 dozen so I can share with the dogs. I'm not that ambitious. Suddenly, I remember my hidden stash of the good stuff. Let's see, 2 boxes of Twinkies, 4 Pop-Tarts, 6 dozen miniature cinnamon/brown sugar muffins. Oh yeah, a dozen for me, a dozen for the Rott, a dozen for the Bully. Nuked them - poured milk while I waited for the pure pot of stronnnnnng coffee and I'm blissfully about to soar - sugar high - caffeine high - yeahhhh.
Feeling on top of the world!
Do my morning chores, feed and water the critters in the outdoor kennels, listen to the neighbor's cat complain as he follows me around the yard, fearless of the large dogs drooling when they see him. Fill the bird feeders and clip some pink roses, purple asters and Zebra grass for my dining room table.
Only 10 a.m. - don't feel like working - whistle for the dogs and off to the mall.
Note on car: "Left you quarter tank of gas - locked the gas valve - don't want you to be able to fill up and go wandering too far."
Damn! Damn! Damn!
A Navy limo picked him up this morning - his SUV is in the garage. He knows I don't like to drive it, but sometimes, a gal just has to bite the bullet and go for it. If I can just figure out how to make the seat go forward enough so I can reach the pedals - grumble, moan, whine, complain - fix the rear view mirror - damn, stubborn, anal retentive squid. The gas tank is FULL! Got to remember to top it off before I come home.
And we're off.
And the car alarm goes off. Did I mention anal retentive? My neighbor comes rushing over. I am in my driveway turning the air blue.
"Are you all right, dear? You know, you really shouldn't curse. Cowboy wouldn't like that. He might even spank you."
I signal the dogs. They jump out of the car and stand in front of me, baring their teeth at nosy Mrs. Hair Up Her Ass.
"Do you see the sun, Mrs. Hair Up Her Ass? It's nice, isn't it?" I say politely.
"Yes, dear. It is."
"Would you like to live to see it tomorrow?"
"Well, I never...."
Now, that is probably true.
"I'm going to tell Cowboy on you," she sputters as she flits away on her broom.
"Go ahead," I dare. "I'll send all my dogs over to crap on your lawn - and eat your cat!"
I am royally pissed.
I don't know a lot about what's under the hood of a car except that there are a lot of "ators" - carburetor, radiator, filterator, thingamajigator, stuff like that. I know how to add oil, transmission fluid (this might be another ator thingy) and where the Windex goes for the window washer. I know not to touch the radiator - let the jerk at the gas station burn his hands - I just had a manicure... BUT I do know where the switch on the alarm is 'cause Cowboy showed it to me in case it went crazy one day. I disconnected it.
At last, we're off and I am mad as hell and decide the dogs and I deserve better than this. We are going for a ride - a lonnnng ride - over the bridge to the ferry terminal - and over Puget Sound to Lopez Island - and stop for pizza on the way.
"Three large - mushroom, pepperoni, extra cheese, one diet coke for me, two root beers for the Rott, one strawberry shake for Bully boy. Lots of napkins, please."
I ate my normal 3 slices, the dogs ate the rest and burped their way across Puget Sound to the San Juan Islands.
Beautiful day, beautiful weather, we are now relaxing on a little beach I know, watching Orca whales play and my damn cell phone rings.
"Hi Babe, whatcha' doin'?"
Damn! He must have radar.
"Hi Cowboy! How's it going down there in Navyland?"
"Everything's good. What are you doing, babe?"
"Mmmm, the dogs and I are relaxing, enjoying the sunny weather, that's about all."
"Where are you, babe?"
This is not going well, but you already figured that out.
"Would you believe the back yard?"
"No," he said quietly, the tone I recognize as one I would rather not hear.
"Where do you think we are?" I ask, suddenly inspired to play 20 questions or Socrates, take your pick.
"You tell me," he said quietly.
"Oh no. You have to guess," I gush with sudden nervousness.
"WHERE ARE YOU?"
"In the San Juans," I say softly.
Dead silence on the other end.
"How did you get there?" he asks, voice still too soft, red flags waving, sirens going off.
"Drove to the ferry, rode across the Sound," I say quietly.
"How much gas is left in the tank?"
"I drove your car. It's pretty full."
"Why are you driving my car?" Jeez, he wants to know everything. Anal retentive....
"'Cause you didn't leave any gas in mine," I sputter. "And you never said anything about not driving your car so I took it and... and... that's it! I felt like a drive. I took a drive. It's not the end of the world!" I'm on a self-righteous roll.
"Uh-huh," he says. "Now tell me why I didn't want you wandering too far."
"Are you going to ruin my day, Cowboy?" I finally ask, close to tears for no reason at all.
"No, babe. I'm not. But there's a good chance I'm going to ruin your weekend..." he pauses dramatically. "Any other mischief I need to know about?"
"None that immediately springs to mind," I say with a perfectly straight face and fingers crossed on both hands.
"Friday night, babe," he says softly.
"Maybe, Monday," I answer, thinking this might be a good time to visit some friends in Blaine, hike over the border to British Columbia, or go a little further east to Alberta... Weather's nice in Saskatchewan this time of year - Lake Louise is always good. Haven't been to Ontario in ages - Nova Scotia's good - really like Cape Breton, even know my way around. He'd never find me in Newfoundland or better yet, Prince Edward Island. I wonder how much it costs to fly to London this time of year.
Two more days till Cowboy comes home.