5/20/2013. - Day 55 - With a little bit of luck I can find me a girl with a truck (and maybe a ramp to unload my motorcycle?)
The bike came out of the pickup again today. I've been building on a relationship with the local Honda dealer for several years, and they graciously allow me to use their ramp when I'm in town to load and unload the bike. Grandpa is my co pilot today as he will take the Ford back to the house as I take the motorcycle. The general Ford jokes are made and then he finally settles into the driver's seat. It's raining but not too hard and I'm hoping the weather looks up.
I continue my career exploration this afternoon, getting a chance to wear some fun professional dresses, and then getting soaked in a downpour and continuing the day in jeans and boots. I'm rolling with it; rain happens. At least I didn't melt.
Lana is in the cities for a few days so Grandpa and I are fending for ourselves at home. In the mornings we discuss world issues, newspaper articles, and historical events. Earlier today the topic was peanut butter and I said something to the effect that I would eat it on almost anything. When I arrive home from my job search, I head to the cellar, where I live when I am at my grandparents' house, for a shower and some sweat pants.
When I emerge from the basement, I catch a faint scent of what seems to be peanut butter cookies. Instead of going into the kitchen, I head to the living room to see if there are any episodes of Grey's Anatomy on the DVR. Grandpa is in the kitchen doing something with pots and pans so I holler in and ask why it smells like peanut butter cookies. He enters the living room, which borders the kitchen and has a puzzled look on his face. He states that he does not smell any such thing, and maybe they have a peanut butter cookie air freshener he is unaware of. I wrinkle my forehead and insist that I smell them, and I'm pretty sure it's not an air freshener. He persists with doubt and accuses me of thinking their house smells of peanut butter cookies. Again, I swear I smell cookies, and it isn't the smell of their house. He disappears back into the kitchen and I drop it.
There is a wall separating the kitchen and living room with entrances on both ends of the wall. The wall anchors some cabinets and the stove and refrigerator on one side, and the TV console on the other. We used to run around through the rooms in circles when we were kids. Several minutes after our above conversation, Grandpa is banging pots and pans around again and I inquire as to what he is doing. He mumbles something about arranging the cupboards or putting away dishes and since he lives in the kitchen 90% of the time I think nothing of it. Again I ask if he smells the very distinct scent of peanut butter cookies and he dismisses it. Now I think I am going crazy.
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| The LEGEND. |
An hour or so later, when I've finally had enough of the television, I declare that I am going to bed. Grandpa catches me before I disappear into the depths of the house and asks if I'll come into the kitchen to see if I still smell the peanut butter cookies. Now I'm terrified that I have left the peanut butter out or open and mice have infested the cupboards, or I have spilled something that has resulted in the smell perfuming the air and he is luring me into the kitchen to present me with my mistake. I reluctantly enter the kitchen -- and find an entire batch of peanut butter cookies, still warm, cooling on the counter.
If you don't know my Grandpa, you may not be able to understand this gesture, and if you do know him, you understand the magnitude of this act - seasoned lightly with his sarcasm, of course.
