on this first sunday of the new year, i find myself having coffee with lois and irene once more. we make small talk about what we do for a living and for fun, and lois hits on barclay, 88-year-old-lady style. they serve me egg-nog and i only pretend to sip on it, because, truth be told, i hate egg nog. irene keeps tabs on me though, and whenever i go for more than a moment without taking a "sip" she slaps my leg under the table and says, "look at you. you. you you. you b-b-b-better drink some more of your. your. your drink."
i smile and say, "oh yes, it's delicious!" [i don't mean it though.] but, because these ladies are the best hostesses in all of saskatchewan and i love them dearly for it, i tip the glass back just far enough so that the smelly, creamy slime just grazes my upper lip and sloshes back down into the bottom of the cup. irene is satiated for the moment.
the conversation is rich and uplifting.
"barclay's sister just had a baby on january first--"
"barclay's sister just had a baby on january first."
"yes. a little girl."
"ohh, a girl eh? where's she live?"
"oh. mexico, eh?"
"ooOOooOOOooooOhhh. who's THIS good-looking man?"
"lois, this is my husband, barclay."
"oh well. then i won't flirt with him too much."
"oh. good. i'm the jealous type."my lame humor falls on deaf ears. this is maybe a good thing.
"um, well. i have. that is. i have. that is. i have th-th-th-three. three. three. THREE. and i can c-c-c-c-count them all. yes."
irene sits back in her chair and clasps her hands in front of her, excited to have contributed her bit. she smiles at me. i smile at her. lois smiles at barclay.
"oooOOOoOOOoohhh. who's THIS good-looking man?"
"barclay. my husband."
"well he must have lots of girlfriends."
"oooohhhh no. just me. i'm the only one."
this response elicits a big smile from irene, "oh. oh good. only you? you. you're his only, his only, his only g-g-g-g-girlfriend. well, that's good then."
she pats my leg, quite pleased to hear of our monogamous relationship status. she has surprisingly strong hands.
she grins at me. i grin at her. lois grins at barclay.
"ooooOOooOOOooOohh. who's THIS good-looking man?"
"this is my husband, lois."
"oh! he's handsome! i better behave myself...but i bet it'd be hard to kiss him with all of that hair all over his face."
barclay smiles at me. "i sneak em in every once in a while."
irene is just tickled to hear this. she is a hopeless romantic at heart. she slaps my leg a million times under the table.
and the night goes on. and it's good.