EDMOND — The checkout lady at the S&H; Stamp Redemption Center flipped through my coupon books nonchalantly, as if it didn’t matter that I had been saving stamps almost a year for the beautiful coffee pot shown in the catalog. She pushed the box across the counter and muttered, “Come again.”
It was going to be a busy afternoon. After getting my 2- and 4-year-old boys lunch and putting them down for a nap, I would have uninterrupted time to finish the Irish Crème cake I had started the previous evening. It was Saturday, and our best friends were coming to visit. We had recently moved to our new home in a semi-rural area where there were no neighbors, so I was especially pleased to be having company.
After they left around midnight, we went to bed and Art fell asleep immediately while I lay there thinking of the events of the day.
“What’s that!” Startled, I sat up, staring at a glow coming from the kitchen and streaming across the living room. A few seconds passed. The light went away. Thinking I must have been imagining things, I lay back down and was about to drift off when it happened again. Terrified, I threw the covers over our heads and shook Art awake.
“Shh, don’t make a sound,” I whispered frantically. “Someone is in our kitchen.”
“How do you know?” he whispered back.
“Because of his flashlight,” I replied.
We slowly poked our heads out from under the covers and, sure enough, the living room was bathed in that eerie light. Then the room went dark again.
“He’s probably armed,” Art whispered.
We retreated under the covers again and hatched our plan.
“The .22 is in my closet,” Art whispered. “I’ll creep into the living room and hold him at gunpoint while you call the police.”
“Okay, but the gun isn’t loaded. The box of bullets is on the top shelf somewhere, and I’m going with you.”
“Where’s the flashlight?”
“In the kitchen, but there’s a penlight on my bedside table.”
“Okay, bring it,” Art said under his breath.
We slipped out of bed and felt our way to his closet, then closed the door behind us. Art reached for the gun and searched for the bullets by the light of the penlight. We were bathed in sweat, adrenaline pumping and hearts racing. The closet was full of clothes plus Art’s golf clubs. He found the bullets and loaded the rifle.
“Here I go,” he whispered, and disappeared into the darkness.
I grabbed Art’s trench coat and slipped it over my sweat-drenched summer nightie. Then I pulled a 9-iron out of the golf bag and was taking a tentative step out of the closet when I was assailed by an unexpected sound. Laughter. Great peals of gasping, knee-slapping belly laughter were coming from my husband.
I ran into the kitchen and turned on the light to reveal an unforgettable sight. Art was standing there, tears streaming down his face, pointing at my beautiful new stainless steel, 12-cup electric percolator with an automatic thermostat that controlled the temperature of its contents. I’d forgotten to turn it off, and every time it engaged, the control panel lit up.
He looked at me, armed with his favorite golf club and wearing his trench coat, and uncontrollable waves of laughter enveloped both of us.
We were married 45 years. On those rare occasions when we faced potentially frightening situations, our standard response was, “Don’t shoot the coffee pot.”
TOMMY ATCHISON is an Edmond resident. She is a member of Edmond’s Challenged Pens writing group. Her column appears this week in place of Marjorie Anderson’s As I See It.
Features
Beware things that go blink in the night
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Operating on feelings can be catastrophic
How they raise their kids is a touchy subject for lots of parents.
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Take care with puppy vaccinations
Q: My son recently bought a 3-month-old mixed Rottweiler-German Shepherd pup from a dog breeder near Tecumseh. He was assured by the breeder that the pup had received a 5 in 1 vaccination two weeks earlier, but the pup got sick about a week after he took it home.
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Edmond Beautiful plans Spring Garden Tour
Edmond Beautiful Inc. will have a Spring Garden Tour of the 2011 “Yard of the Week” winners May 26-27. The “Yard of the Week” program recognizes yards and gardens during the summer months for outstanding flowers and landscaping.
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Sometimes it’s easy to let go of the familiar
Remember the clack-clack of the lawn mower you used to push over your yard every week or so before someone finally figured out how to attach a gas engine to the contraption?
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‘Attachment parenting’ fad benefits only guru
The cover story in last week’s (May 21, 2012) Time Magazine is all about “why attachment parenting drives some mothers to extremes — and how Dr. Bill Sears became their guru.” That is the article’s subtitle. All I can say, somewhat hopefully, is “at last.”
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Protect pets from poisons in the yard, garden
After an unseasonably warm winter, many gardens and yards around the country are growing and blossoming well ahead of schedule
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Norman church keeps up hourly adoration
For nearly 10 years, someone has been present every hour of the day, every day of the year inside the chapel less than a block north of St. Joseph’s Catholic Church.
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Protecting pets from poisons in the yard, garden
After an unseasonably warm winter, many gardens and yards around the country are growing and blossoming well ahead of schedule. Outdoor enthusiasts who are also pet owners are delighted with the early onset of spring, enjoying their outdoor living spaces while watching their pets run and play.
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Norman church keeps up hourly adoration
For nearly 10 years, someone has been present every hour of the day, every day of the year inside the chapel less than a block north of St. Joseph’s Catholic Church.
Deacon Jeff Willard said when the “Perpetual Adoration” program was started at St. Joseph’s, he thought it might last six months at best. -
Fatherhood illuminates relationship to God
Like most men, when I got married I didn’t know what I was signing up for. I didn’t expect it to change me much. In fact, it wasn’t until we had children that I realized how different I had become. I didn’t sign up to have squalling infants keep me up for hours night after night. I sure didn’t sign up for diaper duty. And the one thing I definitely wasn’t expecting was that these little sewage-secreting noise machines would have cables jacked straight into my heart. What they wanted, I wanted them to have. It wasn’t even a choice.
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Operating on feelings can be catastrophic
