almost okay

Dear Lyzako,

Monday morning has greeted us here with dead calm, a dusting of snow and yet another dense blanket of milky clouds to blot out the sun. Without sunshine there are no hard shadows anywhere and the landscape takes on a flat, dull appearance, the predominant January color scheme consisting of shit brown, scum green and dull gray.

Oh but Saturday, did we have sun! As Ol' Sol furnished summertime to the southern hemisphere, he generously tossed a few leftover rays northward which slanted over the trees and rooftops, warmed the ground and lit the booth where I ate my breakfast, made the pearl gray Formica table top glow with fuzzy skewed rectangles of white light. I had the 'Special': a pair of eggs over medium, two strips of crispy bacon, two link sausages, a thin slice of ham (with pineapple ring), American fries and wheat toast. All washed down with ice water and several cups of coffee, of course.

I chose the booth where I sat because of the southern exposure and the sun, but it proved to be a mistake right away when a middle-aged couple sat directly behind me, the woman talking loudly on her cell phone and complaining about something or other to somebody. She continued the yakking, so I finally decided to set my book aside, unable to concentrate on the words because of the overheard half-conversation. Oh well. I figured I'd just sit there and dig on the sunshine.

By the time the woman finished talking, my food had arrived. I must tell you at this point that to compound my frustration, sweet Suzy wasn't working this particular Saturday (and her heart-shaped rear wasn't talking to me as she walked to and fro, either), so I was being waited on by the loud, clumsy woman whose name I forget. The one who resembles Olive Oyl... pointed nose, round jaw, straight hair, thin neck, thin arms, just plain thin. Assless, breastless and almost sexless. She walks too fast, talks too much and way too loudly, scampers around the room with her 'More coffee over here, Hon?'s until I just want to scream. At various times when new customers arrived and questioned her as to how she was doing, her response was always the same: an eardrum-shattering “Just peeeeeachy!”

Some months ago, she actually spilled hot water all over the table, my book and on my lap while trying to refresh my tea. But that's another story.

Anyway, I'd pretty much given up on the possibility that breakfast would be a soothing experience. Olive Oyl just wouldn't allow it, and after the cell phone conversation had ended, the woman sitting in the booth behind me had begun berating her poor spouse. “Don't pick your teeth at the table,” she said to him. His voice was so gentle and weak that had she not been there I wouldn't even have known anyone was in the booth at all. I didn't hear him say anything in response to her 'tooth picking' admonition, but it was all I could do to keep from telling her to 'Shut up!' myself.

When I got back home, the sun was still shining, angling in under the awning in the kitchen. On the window sill over the sink I noticed the wishbone that I had leftover from Thanksgiving, the one I promised to share with you. The one I had forgotten all about.

I picked it up, took an end in either hand, closed my eyes and made a wish for both right and left. I figured that I couldn't possibly lose, right? When I pulled, the damn thing split exactly in two! The two pieces were so similar in size that it was impossible to determine a winner. Somehow in the carving of the bird I must have nicked the knob in the center of the bone with my knife, creating a tiny fissure that allowed the miraculous break.

So what I want to know is, do I get my wish or not? I'm guessing that I don't. First off, it's a breach of wishbone protocol to play by oneself. Plus, I just am plain not lucky that way. Even when I get the big part, my wish never seems to be granted. As proof I offer this...

The last three wishbones that I shared with my wife, I closed my eyes, pulled and found the bigger portion in my hand every time, but never got my wish.

Each time when I opened my eyes, she was still standing right there in front of me!

Very Truly Yours,
Marty Sherman

PS Since there was no clear winner in the wishbone department, I guess it's okay tell you what I was wishing for: Right hand wished for sunnier days. Left hand wished for Suzier nights (heart-shaped ass and all!).