... after a word from the Catchup Advisory Board.
TR: These are the good years for Barb and me. The neighbors' rider lawnmower that's been waking us up early on Sunday mornings accidentally ran over some strands of barbed wire, and now everything is quiet for awhile. The car has been leaking oil for months, and finally Barb managed to run into a concrete barrier and now the insurance will pay for everything. Barb has been talking about getting a cat again and I managed to head that off by talking about what sort of memorial service I want and how I really am starting to think maybe cremation is the way to go. And then that evening I saw Barb, sitting at the kitchen table, crying into a Kleenex. ----- Barb, what's wrong?
SS: Oh, Jim, I was just thinking how bad I would feel if you died, say, in October or November and I had all that insurance money and I took a cruise in the Caribbean and got a really nice room with a balcony instead of that little tiny closet of a cabin we got when we went three years ago and I'd stand on deck drinking a Tequila sunrise and looking forward to the evening dance and the handsome young officer dancing with me again who looks so much like the young Richard Gere and I'd think, "Why didn't Jim and I take a nice vacation together before he passed away?"
TR: Good question, I guess.
SS: So where do you want to go, Jim? If you knew that this summer was the last summer of your life----
TR: I think I'd like to go find that officer and choke him, Barb.
SS: Oh, Jim. Seriously----
TR: Well, we're not beach people, Barb. We know that. We're Caucasians. We're forest people. We need shade.
SS: You're remembering that sunburn you got on Barbados.
TR: And we're a peasant people, Barb. High cuisine in fancy hotels is not for us.
SS: You're referring to the bad oysters that time in Miami-----
TR: Food poisoning is not a pleasant thing, Barb. A luxury vacation that winds up with projectile vomiting is nothing you need to do twice----
SS: And then there was the trip to New Hampshire.
TR: When we reserved a week at the bed & breakfast that turned out to be owned by Jehovah's Witnesses.
SS: Oh my.
TR: Every night they'd knock on our door and want to come in the bedroom and talk about the Millenium and Armageddon and -----
SS: We wound up sleeping in the car. Which we'd accidentally parked in that man's yard. The man with the big dog. And the shotgun.
TR: He assembled a militia in twenty minutes. They take trespassing very seriously in New Hampshire.
SS: Honey?
TR: Yes?
SS: I think we're old enough to do what we really want to do and not be ashamed of it, Jim. We don't need to take big vacations just so we can impress people with our slides-----
TR: What are you saying, Barb?
SS: How about for summer vacation this year we just stay home, rent a couple dozen videos, turn off the phone, get out our old Earth, Wind, and Fire LPs and try some new medications?
TR: I think you're right, Barb.
SS: I've got some pills left over from my surgery last summer. Let's put on some music and take muscle relaxants and eat a whole bunch of meat burritos and a pint of Chunky Monkey apiece and eat it right out of the carton.
TR: And don't forget ketchup, Barb. Ketchup contains natural mellowing agents that will help us relax and be satisfied with ourselves as we are and help me not be jealous of you going on that cruise and dancing with that man.. What do you say?
RD: These are the good times, with all that summer means,
Sunshine and birdsong, the golfers on the greens,
Life is flowing like ketchup on your beans.