Havin' a Ball

People’s ingenuity never ceases to amaze me.  Take my father, for example.  Having bumped the rear garage wall, the wall near the kitchen, with the front of his Beamer on numerous occasions, he has figured out a remedy.  If I were to walk through the garage from the driveway, which I do once a month upon my arrival for my weekend visits, I would observe dad’s Beamer, with windshield resting against a fluorescent, green tennis ball that dangles by a sturdy string from the ceiling.

“Stop right there!” the ball shouts as dad creeps toward it, in his quest to return home from an afternoon at the office and pull his car into the garage, listening to one last Count Basie song on his super-duper, deluxe, ultra modern car speakers, unusual toys for this terribly low-tech octogenarian.  He doesn’t want to worry about where the wall begins and his car ends, or having to explain what that loud bang was in the garage a minute ago that shook the house and scared everyone inside half to death.  He simply wants to sit with my stepmom and enjoy cocktail hour of gin and tonic, wine, chips and nuts, and spend a few minutes watching the early evening news.  The stop spot makes it all happen.

With that in mind, have a ball this weekend.

From Louise

Comments

[Alexis]

Good one

[Briget]

Once a month???? And I haven't seen you in ages for a compulsive, coffee-gulping chat? What?? Do I have B.O? I'm paralyzingly boring? You're really, really busy when you're here?

*pick one;)

[Louise]

None of the above. If I don't hang around dad, I'll miss something and I have needed to be there.

[6S fan]

Your dad's stories are all over the place today. Great fun. Enjoyable reads!