Sam came back from the shower with goosebumps all over his skin. Ursula has finished cooking and set aside the apron before setting the table. He finished drying his hair and folded his robe carefully beside her apron. "I'll throw these in the hamper later, with the towel," he explained. He proceeded to fix his hair with a comb; his hair dryer was for extracurricular expeditions, not evenings at home. She eyed his well defined eyebrows approvingly.
He returned her labeler (with which she had personalized his tools,) to the computer desk and asked casually, "What temperature does water freeze at?" Ursula answered without thinking. "32 degrees," she said absently. "You labeled the fridge wrong," was his laconic conclusion. Chagrin is a word that means vexation. Ursula put the "grin," in chagrin. His tools reflected her preference of children's names for years to come.
Ostensibly checking the weather report, Sam reviewed his email for messages from Melbourne. The new subject line was "Methodology." The body of the email was bifurcated. The first half was quite informative. "Sam: Print the following and use it to define the problem for the relevant Academic. It explains that the postman is going to carry the 'fragile' package 'this side up,' at all times, and _yes_, the 'Great Circle Route,' is specified to the nearest meter." The "regards, Melbourne," had the customary spacing, and the hash line after it was followed by a detailed listing of technical language that looked like a cooking recipe. The first part had "vocabulary," and "equipment," and the last part was a detailed description of active voice jargon, with arcane verbs and adjectives. Sam examined it critically; the spell checker went crazy. Oh well, Melbourne was responsible, not his dad. He printed the email, and carefully addressed it to the U5T System campus, "Attn: Physics Department." He used the "reply" feature to let Melbourne know he understood. "Sent Your 'Son of Sam' S**t off to the University. Give my love to Andrea, Sam (Trey.)"
If Travis had been watching personally, Melbourne couldn't have opened the answer faster. He felt more like a fly fishing bass-master than a Marlin catching sea-fisherman. He delayed slightly, and returned his "lasting gratitude," and returned to the crib, where Andrea was anxiously spelling the Veterinarian. Their sow had produced a fine litter of piglets, and he lavished his exhausted affection on his equally tired loved one as the Vet resumed his labors. "He'll never guess," he said confidently. For her part, Andrea was feeling much better. "What if we plant an acre of English Roses?" she asked him. "The land wouldn't be totally barren then." "Lying fallow means letting it rest completely," Melbourne reassured her. "We'll put it back to work soon enough. Dad will gladly front us seed for _something_, all we need is a reliable way to access the market." "He's _SO_ _old_," she said one last time. "The wear-out rust-out thing? He really believes in wearing out," Melbourne reiterated. "He's just glad he's hale and hearty. He keeps Mom's memory alive in the work." "...if he ever _does_ wear out," she added. "He makes it look easy!"
The Vet took his leave, and when they were left alone Melbourne pulled a trick he had learned from an old girlfriend. He looked deep into Andrea's eyes and sighed. "I love you Andrea!" he intoned. Her response was that of a wordless passionate marshmallow; she was ambushed by love and had no defense. His self esteem was insecure from Ursula's reckless bargain, but it seemed _Very_ important to her to win the bet with Sam - he and Andrea could never thank her enough. He clung right back to Andrea and the sun came up quietly.
Sunday, March 1, 2009
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