June 28 – “Windfall”

I sure miss having Chris around.  Don't get me wrong.  It's been a blast – albeit a chaotic one – with Kel and Christina and the boys staying here.  But I miss the little things we share.  Like when the mail got here today.  We got a letter from the IRS.  Always an interesting find.  But this one was an unexpected windfall.  For some reason we overpaid our estimated taxes last year, and that meant we were due a refund.  It said the check would arrive within six weeks.  But I opened the rest of the mail and it was here already.  Also unexpected.  I had to text Chris right away.  The sequence went something like this: "Good news.  We got a tax refund." "Why did we get a refund?"  (Ever the vigilant one) "We overpaid.  So how do you want to spend it?"  "Isn't it time to pay taxes again?"  (Always thinking ahead, this one) "Not until September.  So what do you want to do with it?" "We'll have to think about it.  We may need it to live on even if it's just a penny!" (I think she's beginning to expect something's up.  Better come clean) "How about two dollars?  Come on, I have the check in hand.  Let's splurge." "A cherry limeade from Sonic!"  Now that's my girl.  I love that woman.   I remembered something that happened the other day when I was mowing the back yard.  I haven't told anyone yet.  It's kind of embarrassing.  The tale begins with me wearing a baseball cap.  I think that may be relevant.  As I rounded a corner with the mower humming along, Kel and Christina's dog Lucy came out.  She began barking at the evil intruder machine immediately.  And then she saw me.  Obviously she didn't recognize me (hence, the hat comment).  She quickly shifted the focus of her defensive tirade from the inanimate object to the clearly out of place human.  She turned on me like a guard dog in a junkyard.  I was stunned for a moment or two, and then everything happened like it was slow motion.  Lucy began to approach, slowly at first, and then faster and faster.    My mouth opened to scream, but no sound came out.  She skidded to a stop just inches from my right knee, barking furiously.  And then, to my utter horror and consternation, she head butted me.  That's right.  She lowered her head and charged right into my leg and head butted me.  And then she was quiet.  Her mission was accomplished.  The interloper was vanquished.  The yard was once again safe for canines and familiar humans.  And Lucy was the heroine of the hour.   Psalms 63:5 says, "My soul will be satisfied as with the richest of foods; with singing lips my mouth will praise you."   Father, thank you for blessing me with a cherry limeade slush kind of wife.  Amen.