Ed held up the jar. Edna looked puzzled.
“Twenty bucks,” Ed said.
“Huh? Tell me you didn’t pay twenty dollars for a jar of dirt.”
“I didn’t, but about 10,000 folks did.”
Ed explained how he dug the dirt himself from the site of the historic basketball coliseum. The college razed the building to construct a new arena, and is selling dirt from the original site to crazed fans.
Edna tried to keep a straight face.
“Here’s the best part,” Ed continued. “I know my dirt is legit. Who knows what’s in those fancy jars the school is selling.”
*******
“Edna, check out my announcement.”
Edna read the page, looking over her husband’s shoulder: I hereby declare my candidacy for City Council.
“But Ed, you didn’t say what you stand for.”
Ed smiled. “That’s easy. Education. Economic growth. Low taxes.”
Edna looked puzzled. “But how . . . . ”
Ed cut her off. “I’m not falling into that trap.”
Edna was still confused. “How can you get elected if you don’t offer specific ideas?”
“That’s exactly how I expect to get elected!” Ed raised his index finger as he pontificated further. “Specifics are the enemy of every politician.”
Edna shrugged. He might actually win.
Ellen shakes her head. “Grandpa, that’s not the real name of the game. It’s Simon Says.”
“Not this version,” Ed replies to his granddaughter.
“Alright. OK. Let’s just do it,” the youngster reluctantly responds.
Ed smiles and begins. “Ed says scratch your head.” Ellen and Edna immediately scratch their head.
“Ed says blink twice.” Ellen and Edna do it.
“Ed says smile.” Ellen and Edna grin from ear to ear.
“Hug your grandmother.” Ellen gives Edna a big hug.
“I didn’t say Ed says. You lose, young lady.”
Ellen laughs. “No, Grandpa. I won. I got to hug Grandma.”
*****
Ed sat on the huge rock waiting for Edna to catch up. He removed the heavy knapsack from his shoulder and wiped his sweaty brow. Edna slowly plopped down next to him to catch her breath.
They examined the split in the trail, trying to figure out which way to go.
Ed studied the trail options, wiped his face again, and finally caught Edna’s eye. Her red face told him all he needed to know.
Without a word, the two hikers rose, reversed their path, and headed straight for the cold drinks and sandwiches Edna had packed in their car.
Ed sat high on the roof scooping gutter debris when his foot bumped the ladder, sending it to the ground.
Edna’s Balinese cat, Essex, woke from the thud. Essex saw Ed stranded on the roof near the very same tree from which Ed rescued her yesterday.
Essex scooted inside and plopped on Edna’s lap, crushing the newspaper she was reading. Edna saw terror in her cat’s eyes. “What’s wrong?”
Edna followed Essex outside, saw Ed’s dilemma, and called for a neighbor to right the ladder. A relieved Ed climbed down.
We’re even, Essex purred in language no one understood.
****
Ed tapped the screen on his tablet computer but nothing happened. The typeface was too small for him to read anything.
Edna looked over his shoulder, trying to be positive. She was the one who cancelled the print subscription to their daily newspaper. “Try tapping with two fingers,” she said.
That didn’t work either.
Ed cursed under his breath. Suddenly, a window opened with the story in much larger font. He could now navigate easily from story to story, all in readable format.
Edna smiled with relief. “Great! How did you do that?”
Ed whispered the curse words to her.
“Rosa sericea pteracantha,” Edna said softly as she lifted her index finger to her mouth, trying to stop the bleeding. “They’re beautiful but those thorns get me every time.”
“That’s botanically impossible,” Ed replied.
“Huh? What do you mean? Look at my finger.”
Ed knew he should’ve kept quiet, but decided to finish what he started. “Roses don’t have thorns,” he declared. “They have prickles.”
Edna frowned while continuing to apply pressure to her finger wound. “Well, Mr. Flower Expert, can you at least help me get them into the vase?”
“Certainly, my dear.”
“OOOUCH!” Ed screamed seconds later.
****
“Edna, it’s not that hard,” Ed scolds. “The long black one works the TV, the short black one controls the cable box, and the silver one’s for the sound system.”
“This one doesn’t work,” Edna declares. “The battery’s probably dead.”
Ed inspects the TV remote, shaking his head as he sees the keys light up brightly. “Which button did you push?”
“All of them,” Edna answers sheepishly.
“Yikes. This time it appears you’ve changed the input source, muted the sound, and initiated the channel scan.”
Edna laughs. “Whew. At least I didn’t order another boxing match on pay per view.”
