at six o'clock,
his parents had
a dreadful shock!
They found the lion
sick in bed
"Pierre is surely dead!"
I arrived home at seven o'clock, but that would have been six in New Mexico. Mike met me at the airport in his black Dodge Intrepid. He had on his sunglasses, and looked very much like Tommy Lee Jones. As we left Love Field he picked up his cell phone and called Steven at home. "Start the spaghetti in fifteen minutes," he told him. I expected him to say "Over and out!" Had my sons synchronized their watches??? If we went through a tunnel, would the Intrepid kick it up to warp speed?
You might suspect me of recreational use of Dramamine (rhymes with "Drama Queen"), but that was not the case. This was the first flight I ever made without Dramamine, because I was feeling so darned relaxed. I did have some trouble with plugged up ears. When Mike commented that I hadn't ever flown very much, I mistakenly thought he was sad that I didn't phone home very much. Yeah, right!
When we got back to the condo Steven really did have the spaghetti ready. Spaghetti and a half cup of Ragu. Apparently there's nothing else edible left in the house. Steven, Mike, a friend-girl, and I sat down to supper. Mike spooned into the spaghetti and lifted up the entire glob. "Probably should have used more olive oil," he said. I promised that I would go to the grocery store right after this dinner. I sure hoped the boys would still be home to haul in all the groceries. Mission Control, we have re-entry!