TALKING SMACK TO JER

Saturday morning has arrived. She like all the others this last days is cold and snowy. But the weatherman teases us with promises of sunshine and warmer weather. It has been a little warmer but still the days surround us with cold winds and snow. "Enough already," I shouted out my back door. "Bring on warmth and melt
this dang snow.

Jer came over yesterday. Our street finally getting to the point it can be navigated safely. Its the parking at the curbs that still are treacherous. But he braved the white, icy substance and came to have coffee with me. I enjoyed it. I had not seen him for over a week. That's a long time not to be able to tease Jer. He calls it talking smack. Can you imagine me talking smack? Well he says I do.

He pointed out after about an hour that I had suggested several ways he should spend his income tax. A vacuum cleaner. Who can live without one? Brakes fixed on his car. The list went on. "Mother," he said. In his not overly friendly voice. I have been here less than an hour and you have told me a hundred things you think I should do." I can run my own life." Hmmm, I bit my tongue. I wanted to say, "You're not doing that good of job of it." Somehow I maneged to keep my ever opening mouth closed.

I switched the subject. We started talking about walking. I told him I could walk him into the ground. He scoffed. "You're talking smack again," he said. I challenged him. Sometimes when I have been alone alot I tend to get a little carried away. When the snow is gone come over and we'll walk to Ryan's for Breakfast eat and walk back. "Ryan's being a restaurant about six miles away. He scoffed. "Come on," I taunted. "Lets see who's talking Smack. He agreed, neither of us really sounding confident.

So the challenge has been laid down. Jer has picked it up. We'll have to see if a slightly out of shape thirty-five year old and a wacky old lady can make it or not. Geez, I gotta quit talking that smack.

Pulling my silly words from my pocket I glance down at them before I turn them loose into the wind. Sometimes I surely ramble. I toss them anyway. Turning to go I think about that long walk to "Ryan's" Maybe I better sprint I think. Strength my legs you know. I start trotting instead. Maybe I'm just not up to sprinting on all this snow. Six miles. I shake my head. I'll never learn. For now, I'm outta here.