Lucky Lady

The stars are aligning just right again, after a set of those bumbling hours that make us wonder at our place at the top of the food chain.  We get to moving too fast sometimes, wanting everything done at once, and the satisfaction of having done it without wasting money, or nagging for help, so I detail my car, prune and landscape in the incredibly hot sun, work a lazy kid at the gym for an entire hour, clean up, move those marble and rot iron tables right quick, drop the heaviest on my forearm, carry on....That hurts; the bruise is truly gnarly.  It was a really rough day.  Before the end of it, however, the downer trend reversed.  I got a haircut from my favorite precision stylist, Angelina, who gives me goose bumps with her incomparably sweet Vietnamese-American conversation; she calls me 'honey' while scratching the shampoo and conditioner into my scalp.  Aahhhh.  Wow.  Ken paid.  Then he said he's going to save us a lot of headache and fix all of our drywall and torn up flooring himself.  Over the years he's shown himself to be an efficient and impressive painter, knowing all the little secrets that father's never teach us females directly.  I watch him astounded, confident that I could do it too now, but never with such ease.  Then he surprised me with dinner, making something I'd never have thought to create using penne, shrimp, scallops, garlic, capers and homegrown tomatoes.  Scallops make me gag, but I don't want to fess up and spoil the mood because I'm really digging this set of hours.  It seems to last and last.  Two potential investors are interested in the Chestnut Avenue land in Carlsbad.  Now our kids want to run the dog to the park, and this happens about as often as a lunar eclipse, so I've already got my Nikes on.  "Let's go!"