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Re-entry to regular life after a break has been relatively painless. My mother always seems a bit discombobulated when we've been apart for more than a couple of days. She keeps a notebook to jot down brief impressions of her days; on Monday, the day we got back, she wrote,"I think I need more supervision." When I asked her about it, she said she had no idea why she'd written that. Probably has to do with the diminished coffee ice cream supply in the freezer... well, a good Hairdo Day appeared to have restored her equilibrium.
Last Sunday, we left Myrtle Beach, SC, and drove down to beloved spouse's middle brother's place in Summerville, which is not too far from Charleston. Along the way, we stopped in a little twon called Georgetown. It had a little historical district along a river, with restaurants and little shoppes off the boardwalk. One place, Big Tuna, was a "raw bar," which is what the locals call a joint that serves oysters. It was closed, and a couple of fellers were out on the patio puttering around. I noticed an enormous multicolored parrot sitting on the back of a chair, and requested a photo op from beloved spouse. The owner noticed, and ambled over with the bird. Older guy, maybe pushing 50, with a bar room tan.
"She's a bar bird," he said. "Grew up in the bar. Sunday is her day off." He talked quietly, barely moving his lips.
"So she talks?" I asked.
"Yeah, but you probably wouldn't want to hear what she has to say," he replied. He looked at us obliquely. The parrot nibbled at his ear. Later beloved spouse told me he'd been trying to get the back of the guy's teeshirt into the picture, as it read,"Fresh Yankee served up daily." Undoubtedly our accents hadn't gone unnoticed.