Bring it on home to me

Ok, I confess. I hate schedules. I not only didn't finish the Good Friday post yet but I didn't even get the weekend on here. And Monday..... Very sorry all. Thngs started out crappy Saturday morning and continued well into today so I was avoiding writing about it till I could do it without going out of my head with grief. I think I can do that now. If not this post may end for no apparent reason. So let's start with the last fun I had...

Instead of finishing the post Friday I went to hang with the band. It was fun all over again but their women hadn't come so I sat alone and could sing all I wanted to. By the last set I had worked up the nerve to try one with them and was thinking of what they might know that I could remember all the words to. I kept drawing a blank. Anyone who has tried to think of one song while another is playing will tell you it's normal.

So they get me up there and I am stalling for time to pick when the fiddler says, "How about "Your Cheatin Heart"?" I felt just like the kid in "A Christmas Story" where Santa says,"How about a football?' and the elf tosses the kid down the shoot whereupon he panics and crawls back up to say he really wants the Red Ryder BB gun. I was still trying to crawl up the shoot to pick another song and next thing you know, here we go!

It was ok and they swung it pretty good. I hit two sour notes but got the rest off ok, only the singer had turned down the volumn on the mic, we could hardly hear me. I got done and was, like, so grossed out. I could not believe I had even sung such an old antique standard. But the newest song I know is at least 20 years old....shrug.

I figured on going home to work up the lyrics on one they did already and getting a do over on Saturday night. The Brother Boy was down right evasive so we didn't chat much. I was worried I had over annoyed him by suggesting "Gloria" (G-L-O-R I A) earlier. That one is really stale. But I was partying with the old fiddler, I want some accoustic time with him! The drummer was fun, too, so the BB being out behind the barn all night was ok.

I had a drink and a half all night but had two of the large, frosted mug ice water. None of the band drinks but I know the bar has to make some money so I buy light then tip well and most of the time that keeps the bartender happy enough to not mind me hanging out. I enjoyed a couple of tunes they got really right enough to chill my spine a little and went home content.

The weekend began with a late uprising, as I prefer and I looked out the window to realize it's spring. My heart is still encased in iced over snow drifts but the world goes on. My crocus have been and gone, the daffodiles and narcissus are nodding out slowly and the tulips and lilacs are in bud. The grass has grown, the weeds of crab in the gardens are up and I thought I would get the little mower out and whack them off. I finished my coffee and got to it.

The garage opens to reveal the big mower in front with the snow blower on it. It may have to stay that way forever because I don't know how to drop it and the mower deck needs to be gone through before being put back on. No problem, I knew that and was just going to get the other mower out. Except the lawn tractor that worked just fine all winter for the mate won't start for me. I open the tool garage and get the battery charger out, run a cord for power and hook it up. It says the battery is just fine. WTF!?

Ok, enough time wasted here. I push it out of the way and am confronted by the wheel barrow full of yardsale stuff I put away last fall.... It's all going to the junk store anyway, I think, and I have three more boxes on the back porch I want out of there so, I thinks to me, I will just back up the truck and load it all up. Which I do. All of it.

Then I find the boxes of camping gear that have to be gone through and that I could not find when the power went out. I go through them, fondling the can of spam and two cans of soup that the mate picked for emergency rations, celebrating over the bungee cords I have looked all over for, and, finally, collapsed on the hood of the little mower in grief when I pick up the hand ax the mate used for everything when we camped and the folding army style shovel he liked so much, wondering where to put them.

It was just too much. I had been at this for two hours. By now the mate would have been racing me around the yard on the mowers and we would be half done. I still hadn't reached the machine I wanted to get out. I am not supposed to have to do this alone, we did spring maintainence together. Which meant I made an extra pot of coffee, handed tools, filled the gas, turned keys and held this here, while he tinkered everything back to life from a long winter's hibernation.

I was so frustrated. He and his Bro had torn the tool garage all the way down and re-arranged it with a new work bench late last fall and I can't find a damn thing when I used to know where everything was. It is another irritation to an already over sensitive heart as I cussed under my breath and asked him where the f they put the blankety charger thing I can't find. The garages were his domain. I visited. Now I am the sole user. It feels so wrong. The bike with no battery in it stares back at me while I tearfully look for the funnel I want.

I stopped crying and put the wheel barrow out by the side of the garage. I have finally reached the little mower. I get on it, run the throttle a couple times to get the gas going, turn the key and it tries to start....but won't. I pushed it ahead and look it over. There is a small vise grip on the gas line. I take it off and work the kink out of the line. Now I get it to start. Yay! One thing worked for me, I thought.

I drive it out of the garage and shut it off, turn on the air compressor, air the tires, fill it with fresh gas, check the oil, make sure the plug wire is on tight and close it all up. I went in for a quick smoke and a cuppa before I start mowing, find a hat and sunglasses and come back out all ready for two hours of bouncing over the yard.

I get it started and take it around front, engage the blades, put it in level 3, gear 4 and take off...sort of. She is rolling but if it's an 80 horse power engine I think 75 of the horses are dead. I lower the gear to 3 and raise the blades to 4 and try again. She goes about 1 mph for 20 feet or so and then starts to loose power altogether. I put in the clutch and she gets back her wind, I let out the clutch and she does it again.

In two more hours I have mowed about 40 minutes worth of lawn. I have checked everything I can think of, had her back to the garage and WD-40'd everything that moves. Oiled the throttle cable, check the belts, blew out and replaced the air filter and she still won't go. When we put this machine away last year she would race circles around the big mower she was so fast and now I can't even get up to a slow walk.

I finally got the area in front of the house done and parked it. I went inside to roust out some help. No one is anywhere, of course, because they are all out riding on such a beautiful day. Where I would rather be... The nephew in law skipped out on a bday party for his nephew and rode his bike over to try and help me get it going. He tore the carbs down and put them back together for a result of 0 improvement. We both felt badly then.

He helped me get the big mower to the back of the garage and I got the rest of the stuff put away while he cleaned up. We locked it all down. I sent him back to his party with a roll of quarters to keep on the bike for emergency money and gave up for the night. I have to replace the air filter and spark plug on the mower that almost works and then I am out of ideas.

I went in and made something to eat but continued to grieve and finally decided I wasn't fit company for man nor beast and went to bed. I wanted to go back to the music but I really couldn't stop crying and I was butt ugly by then so I just tucked all the animals in and shut the place down.

Sunday I started to finish the Friday post and remembered I was supposed to be at the Sister's for Easter dinner. I shut down, got around and went. It was cold so I took the truck. We had good time, nice visit, only short one nephew and family. My mom was at #1Son's wife's family dinner. The little ones had an egg hunt that was funny to watch. Dinner was my favorite, glazed ham and scalloped potatoes. There was cake and ice cream for the Niece's bday for dessert.

Everything was going along just fine and the bro in law carried in some warm soda's to put to chill in the fridge and I lost it. He was running back up for the team while the Sis was silly with the little ones and it was so much like the mate would do, just keep things going while we played, not looking for gold stars or even saying he did it, just doing it. I lost it, made fast polites and left for home, crying again.

I didn't feel like doing anything, I couldn't concentrate to read, and I tried to watch a movie, "Easter Parade", of course, but was really just staring at the walls. I called the Uncle but he was partying with the family. I talked to the kids but it was not a day to be bothering people with my needs. I let them go with a promise to get up there sometime soon.

I decided no one was going to fix me for me so I got up and went to town to get the battery for the mate's bike, the spark plug for the mower and some carb cleaner. If I was going to be miserable I may as well be useful and do the things I had been putting off. I had to make three stops because the battery I needed was out of stock. I hate that. Remembered I needed batteries for the cameras and picked them up, too then hurried home. I had cried all the way through all the stores.

First the Dad at the claw machine set me off, winning a bunny for his kid. The mate was a claw addict. Then picking the right plug and battery by myself with no note to tell me which one. I can use the code books but I never had to, the mate knew all the numbers. We were a team and I am feeling the loss more every day. I was almost hysterical when I got home because I knew I would have to fill and charge the damn battery for the bike and that meant finding the trickle charger. I would have to gap the plug for the mower and that meant finding the gauges and I was so missing him.

I let the dogs in and put my stuff down in the kitchen. I happened to notice I had a message. I was praying for it to be anyone I could talk to because I needed a hand here. I was not getting under control and I was caring less and less if I did or not. It was the Brother Boy. I called him right back, even with the garage lights on and the door open, waiting for me to start the hunts.

Bless the poor man. I was so glad it was him. He has been dealing with the loss of a child and has been through the end of a long term relationship so I at least feel like he can grasp what I am trying to express. I see the pain in him, too. He stayed on the phone with me for an hour I bet. I got chilled out and under control again, finally, and ran out of whines.

I went out to the garage, put on my, WWTMD? thinking cap, found the trickle charger, put the acid in the battery, found the tool to set the plug gap and then left the battery to charge over night. I shut it down and went back to the house. Tearless this time because I could hear the mate in my head. You don't have to believe me, but I found everything in the first place I looked and didn't get any battery acid on me; Proof enough for me.

I dragged out Monday feeling like a half drowned cat and work was humming. When I got home I let the animals in, fed them and headed right for the garage. I was just opening the back door and almost fell into the arms of the male of my friends in deed, The Knockouts. I have landed at their home twice now, too messed up to drive and they have comforted me so I could go home. Now they were here to help with the bike. It is their yard I will be putting it in on a busy main road to sell it. They will keep it locked up and show it for me. I will provide info and contact sheets they can give potential buyers.

We went out to the garage and I explained I was just unhooking the trickle charger and getting the one with the gauge to check that the battery had really charged. Where I was just fine alone there with a male watching I got all clumbsy and stupid. He finished putting the cables on the battery while I hunted up the nut I dropped.

The Black fired right up, of course, for him and he pulled it out where I could wash it. Then he fiddled with the mower and put the new spark plug in for me while I dragged out the hose and got the bucket of hot, soapy water. We set it up for them to bring me back home and they left me scrubbing the bugs off the mate's ride.

As soon as they made the corner and were gone the sobs started. I could have skipped the hot water and used tears instead. My God it hurt to know the mate was never going to mount that beloved machine again and that I would never spar with him over cleaning the hated chrome or waxing under the nasty luggage rack while he smiled to see me loving him by cleaning his bike.

I got through it, loaded the intercom helmets up, mine in the trunk, his to wear, made sure the owner's manual was in there and that the tool kit was up and at the bottom of the saddle bag found my always lost gold cross pen. I pulled the last piece of me and the mate out of the bike and ran for the house.

I got my coat, pulled the key rings apart and put a set together to leave with the bike, got my sunglasses and went back out to face it.

The setting sun hit the black and glowed gold and pink in the paint, it looked lovely standing there. I closed up the garages and lit a smoke then got on the bike. She was heavy for me. I contemplated the exit I had to hit between the gypsy cars as I lifted the mate's helmet and put it on. I tightened the strap to fit me.

After all the dinking around I did it was a pleasure to turn the key and hear her fire right up. The steady roar of the engine echoed off the garages and beat at me. I put her in gear and rode out of the yard. She handles lower and heavier than my bike but we made the corner and the next two to get out of town.

I put her through the gears hard and fast pulling away from the stop sign to get that riding hard rythym out of her and we were doing 80 when I looked. I watched for deer, admired the sunset and talked to the mate in my head to keep my face on.

We swooped the curves and blasted onto the main road for one last gear jam then I pulled into my friend's driveway, turned it off, took off the helmet, pulled the keys and got off. I sat the helmet on his seat, turned my back and walked away.

It's done.