Lessons Learned

Lovely spring day here in the Hudson Valley.

Lois snatched her friend's Mercedes convertible and we went for a late afternoon cruise to Woodstock for a light dinner at the Bear Cafe, one of my fave places in Ulster County.

After our delectable appetizers we drove through the back roads to Saugerties, then down to Kingston along the waterfront on the Rondout Creek.

By the time we arrive downtown, my eyes are dry, I am rubbing them incessantly wanting to rip out my contacts. I look in the mirror, and whatever makeup I have not rubbed off lies underneath my eyes. I cannot breathe through my nose. Great.

We have a drink, and a liquor salesman named Peanut starts to chat with us. He wants to know what we do, and we tell him. He does not believe us. We ask him what he does and he says he is a prostitute. I tell him that he had better change his name as no one will hire a man named Peanut. We laugh. After he realizes he won't get far with us, he leaves, presumably on his Harley.

At dusk it is too cool to put the top down, but the car's roof is nearly all glass, so I still feel like I am part of the great outdoors sans allergans. By the time I get home I am miserable. I take out my lenses, they seem to abrade my eyeballs. I try and blow my nose, but only squeaks and honks seem to come out.

I sigh, and figure that I am just not meant to have a convertible, and muse about a trip to an allergist, but still smile feeling the sun on my face, and the purr of the engine under my red leather seat, and don't care that I can't breathe. After all, tomorrow is another day.

But until I find a good doctor or cure, I am going for a car with filtered air!

Patti O Wheezer


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