Saturday morning last, Nostalgia rose bright ‘n’ early and recruited MiLady.
They were gone in 35minutes — and it must have been urgent; they took the van!
When they returned, it was very late in the evening and the van was encumbered with bags and packages. It took well over an hour with everyone’s assistance to unload it all.
And there were a couple packages that required Herculean effort to carry upstairs to the Old Banshee’s room, which began said conversation:
“What’s in this?” Chef inquired, as he huffed and puffed up the staircase. “Lead?”
“A dead body maybe?” Captain teased with a wide grin.
“Nah, box ain’t big enough,” his little brother answered. “Might hold a head.”
“Could fit a torso in this one,” I chimed in, pointing to Captain’s load. “Gia was saying that she was interested in DNA testing.”
Both sons screwed up their faces, delivered the packages and quickly fled.
I was leaving the room, after dropping off four shopping bags, as both girls entered very chatty.
“Hello, Dear’st,” my girl beamed, kissing my cheek and rubbing a hand on my chest. “Did you miss me?”
“Always,” I responded, returning the buss and lightly goosing her behind as she floated past.
“Rabbit!” Nostalgia chided. “That wasn’t appropriate!”
“Oh, course, it was,” I defended, “she’s my wife. Now, if I did that to you, that would be inappropriate.”
I paused, then after re-considered my words, I added, “Actually, if I did that to you, I’d expect an over-night stay and a thorough psyche evaluation.”
“If you did that to her, I’d expect a divorce!” MiLady added coldly.
I needed to change the topic … Very Quickly!
“What is all this junk?” (I knew this would work.).
“IT’S NOT JUNK!” Nostalgia screeched, almost in tears, as she ran to the bathroom and locked the door.
Yes, it was a surprise to me too.
I was dumbstruck — that never happened before!
I turned to my soulmate for answers.
“Gia went shopping for new clothes and asked me to come along as a second opinion.”
“Ohhhh,” was the most intelligent response I could muster with my deer-in-the-headlights look.
“She said she needed new clothes, new shoes, new hair …”
“New face,” I continued with a smirk.
MiLady backhanded me across the chest and told me to stop teasing.
“But it’s my only fun when she’s here,” I whined like a two-year-old. “I can’t pick fights with her anymore, she wins.”
Chef, Captain, Junior and Paige (MiLady’s daughter from previous marriage) all staggered in with the dregs of Gia’s shopping spree: six more bags and four more boxes.
Looking everything over, I noticed all the contents in the bags were black.
Black? That’s very odd, I thought, Gia has always been attracted to bright and vibrant colours.
I then gave the nearest box a light kick.
It didn’t move. It didn’t even budge — (but I was almost certain that I broke two toes!).
Cursing in Gaelic, I grabbed my injured foot and starting hopping in a circle. (It is very rare, if you ever get the chance to see a rabbit hopping on one foot. I will admit, it is not very graceful, but amusingly memorable.).
“What is IN that one?” I demanded, glaring at the object wishing I had Superman’s x-ray vision to inspect it followed quickly by heat vision to blow it up!
“Gia’s new boots, I think,” my favourite girl responded suppressing a giggle.
“All these boxes are boots and shoes?!?” I asked wide-eyed.
MiLady smiled. “Most of them.”
“M-m-most?” I stuttered. “What on Earth is in the rest of them?”
“Curling iron. Blow dryer. Makeup case …”
Flabbergasted, I blew up.
“What does she need all this junk –“
“IT’S NOT JUNK!” screeched from behind the bathroom door, surprising both of us.
MiLady smiled wider. “Nostalgia wants to surprise a particular gentleman when she goes to the FGS Conference in Texas.”
It took a moment for me to comprehend what I heard, before I walked over to the door and knocked.
“Send it all back, Gia,” I said to the door. “You don’t need to impress anyone.”
Under my wife’s approving gaze, I waited for an answer.
“Nostalgia,” I continued, “I think I know you well enough to tell you: just be yourself.”
Still nothing, although the light under the door did appear to show slight movement.
“If they cannot accept you as you are, none of them are deserving of your company.”
It was then MiLady quietly hugged me and nodded that I continue, but I had a problem: I had nothing left! That hug distracted me!
“Besides,” I paused, failing to regain my track of thought. “How can you afford all this? Have you booked your flight and hotel room yet?”
A faint whimpering whine combined with a blood-curdling yowl was heard from the door.
“I’ll take that as a ‘No.'” I finished, scrambling to the staircase as MiLady quietly pleaded her way into the bathroom.
Once downstairs, I fell into my chair and nursed my injured foot as my little rabbits slowly gathered round.
I relayed my misadventures of the dangerous goods in their auntie’s inner sanctum. Their eyes widened — in reaction probably to my stupid box-kicking rather than fear of any of the shopping contents.
Chef was the first to ask, “What’s in those boxes, Dad?”
“Cement,” I answered, “and other road re-construction materials.”
Paige smirked, “You mean cosmetics, don’t you?”
“Same thing, isn’t it?” I winked back at her, as she shook her head and bravely ventured upstairs to assist her mother.