Yes, of course, I know potottoe is not a word that my computer understands. I tried po-tot-toe to see if that worked. Nope. So, I tried tomato, to-mot-toe. Nope. All I ask is that you indulge me. How in the world is a writer supposed to write potato, potottoe, as the song goes, to start this story off?
There have been some amazing sunsets in my neck of the woods this summer. I imagine no matter where you live, there are sunsets to take your breath away. And sunrises, too. The sunsets, though. Such hope for tomorrow is in each one. Romance and hope. You just can’t go wrong with either of those. There are those, and they walk among us, that will say, “One sunset is not different than the next or the next one.” Ah contraire. Each and everyone is different. Sure, sure, the sun sets every day. It creeps along the sky, and as it gets pooped, it lays down behind a meadow, hill, mountain, ocean, or flat Kansas horizon. It isn’t the act of it disappearing. It’s the visual aspect it leaves in your eye and heart as it goes to sleep. Like watching a kitten get so tired he can’t even hold up his head. The little fuzz ball’s head seems just to fall off very tired shoulders and slips away. Like the sun when it sets. Okay, Trina. Enough mush, just let’s get on with it. Well, okay then.
When the end of anything comes, it is a battle inside as to whether it is okay or it is not okay to let go. Like getting to the last, the very last bite of a really good cold meatloaf sandwich. On soft white bread with mayo and ketchup and maybe mustard. You just thought about that flavor, didn’t you? I suspect there will be many a meatloaf made soon. Yum. Wipe your chin, and let’s move along.
I was recently attending the wine walk in Austin, Nevada, where my friend and I set up a booth to pour some wine, sell books and newspapers, and invite people to visit the sights and sounds of Eureka. It is always fun to meet new friends. Just like sunsets, you have to stop and just revel in the sights, sounds, and feelings that come your way. We met some great people who read “Is This You?” in The Humbolt Sun and The Nevada Appeal. Learned one lady knows the manager of the new grocery store in Carlin where I hope to sell my new newspaper. A good connection and a new friend too.
Two ladies we met were new-ish widows like yours truly. You would think we all had the same widow things to say. But that would be potato/po-tot-toe. Although we are in this “club” one said the dues are way too high. True that for sure! But what I really enjoyed was hearing that they, like myself, have come through the darkness and into the light to continue living the best lives we have left to live. Their two husbands left this earth a short four weeks apart, and the women have different but the same story. Tomato/to-mot-toe. Just like sunsets.
The other potato/po-tot-toe experience you might have with someone along your path could be shopping. Not just girl shopping. Guy shopping has the same effect. Say a couple of guys go into a sporting goods store and head for the fly-fishing rods. I have witnessed this, so I know of what I speak. Now, to me fishing is just that, fishing. Oh no, no, no, I have been told. There is some science to it. Fly rods come in different weights! What? Oh yes. And the lighter the weight, the heftier the price. I say just pick one, flip the line out, and catch a fish. Silly girl. Two grown men looking at rods of one- and two-pound weights and then match up reels to get that perfect balance. Oh yes, my friends, there is a perfect balance point. Just in front of the reel with the right weight of the fishing line. From assembling the line to the reel all the way out to the tippet line and hook. You should be able to balance that baby on your index finger like----well, like balancing a checkbook. It just feels sooo good when all is balanced. A balanced checkbook? Silly me. Potato/po-tot-toe.
The world turns. The sun sets time after time after time. Take a titch of time to watch one until it winks its last wink of light at you. Get yourself balanced. Like you were hanging on the index finger of someone or something bigger than you. Enjoy.
Trina lives in Diamond Valley, north of Eureka, Nevada. Check out her new newspaper at www.theeurekacountystar.com or say “Hi” to her at [email protected]
Really!
Comment
Comments