twilight roofsit

“Venus, Jupiter and Kay”

    ROOFTOP – I need everyone to settle down. I know there are mosquitoes out tonight… which I believe is a song by either Reba or Dolly. But, if you’re gonna witness tonight’s spectacle, you’ll need to pay attention. I said if—Okay, that’s better.

    Kay’s already been out to see it. She refuses to climb to the roof, so she walked to the road and looked west into the night sky. No, the other west. See?

    No, it’s not the moon. Although it is neat looking. Look just down and to the right of the moon. See! Isn’t that something. The top light is Venus and then down a ways is Jupiter. I understand they were much closer to one another on March 15… the Ides. You won’t get to see this again till May of next year.

    Okay, everyone do an about face and look into the Eastern sky. That dot up there is Mars. Notice the red tint. Is that not cool? Tonight, the three brightest non-lunar dots in the sky are planets.

    A few of you seem as impressed as Kay. Before going into the house, she said, concerning Venus and Jupiter, “I thought they would be closer.” I told her about the Ides of March, but she didn’t seem to care.

    That girl is a doodle. Before we get carried away by mosquitoes, I’m gonna use this night and this time to tell you two recent Kay stories. It’ll do so much to help you understand the girl. Doesn’t do much for me, but maybe for you.

    Last night before bedtime, I kicked my houseshoes off in the study. I don’t sleep in the study, but it’s where I kick off my houseshoes. If you have to bend over to take off your houseshoes, you bought the wrong kind. The first shoe flew across the room, hit a box of folders, and landed vertically, toes to the ground, leaning against the box..

    That alone was bizarre, and was duly noted as such. Then I kicked my left shoe off, and it flew across the room, hit the box and landed toe-side down right next to the other one. They were touching, even!

    What do you do when something like that happens? I yelled for Kay. She came running out of the bedroom apparently looking to see a chest of gold doubloons. I pointed to the houseshoes and said, “I kicked ‘em off from here, and that’s where they landed.”

    Kay had no expression. She said, “For some reason I was expecting something different.” Of course, she was expecting something different! Few people could even imagine witnessing such a marvel.

Then Kay left. Not me. Just left the room. It was as spectacular as sinking two consecutive shots from mid-court, yet it failed to impress her. Talk about a tough audience.

    Yesterday morning I was sitting on the carport while Kay cut my hair. All six of ‘em. Kay was pointing out the different bird calls, when a woodpecker lit a few limbs up on the old oak. The thing was toying with a two-foot string, trying to make Jacob’s ladder. Which is not easy if you’re using just your nose.

Kay suggested that it was using the string to build a nest. Then she used one of her smart words on me. She’s been doing that more and more. – Beg your pardon? Right, it’s not easy to find a word that stumps me. Was that sarcasm?

  Kay said, “I need to put out some of my raffia so the birds can use it to build their nests.”

    Raffia. Put out her raffia. I let it set there for about eight seconds before asking. For the men, “raffia” is thin, ribbon-like straw. Kay bought some for when I dressed up like the Mayan priest for a calendar skit Brad and I put on. Only, when Kay was applying the stuff she didn’t refer to it as “raffia.” She sprang that on me during my haircut.       

Raffia

It was an apparent attempt to remind who the brains of the outfit is. And, I didn’t argue with her because she had scissors in her hand.

And that concludes tonight’s roofsit. You got to witness an astronomical spectacle and hear two fascinating stories from the life and times of Mark and Kay. And, what did it cost you? – Right. I’ll see if we’ve got some mosquito bite cream downstairs. Kay will know the actual name of the stuff. She’s a doodle.

END
  
You can reach Mark at mark@rooftopwriter.com