A Date With Lemaperu

I wrote about my sit down with Lemuel, the old horse keeper at the grange. That was early afternoon yesterday.

Then late afternoon, early evening, I stepped outside to see how summer was going, and there in my path I saw a gift basket from a bed and bath store with a gift card from the Olive Garden. Hmm, strange coincidence, wouldn't you say? Since this is exactly what I gave the guys in the trees along the road going toward the grange. Somebody must've been shaken down! And now they're being used by the Grange Brotherhood for what? to mock me in some way?! These were my first thoughts.

But I was pleasantly surprised and very much pleased to discover it wasn't that way at all. And that this was sent or put there by Lemuel and his wife. I don't know these people, of course -- Lemuel by sight, and his wife is probably one of the matrons. But according to the card there's at least three people in his family, including a daughter, Lemaperu. Obviously named after her dad and if Lemuel's wife turns out to be Peru, then I would say the name must be a combination of both. Like when Sam and Antha named their daughter Samantha.

What a nice gesture this is! Under the card there was a note that made it even more delightful, that they are inviting me out to their place on Thursday night for dinner. I can see where this is going and I like it a lot. Lemuel and Peru (if that's her name) are probably looking for a mate for Lemaperu and want to fix us up. That'd be OK with me. I've been single long enough and there's no prospects.

As for having to go out and find a mate on your own, I've never been a big fan of that custom. I like the old ways, where families arrange these things for you. Then you just lay in your bed with a sheet covering you, writhing there, waiting for her to show up as quickly as possible. For this silk is always nice, like with a nice southerly breeze pushing the curtains. A record playing something, music. Maybe a bottle of bubbly if you drink. Like that.

I was always afraid I'd end up with nobody. And that's the way it's been so far. I used to have this thought that when I became of age that I'd go uptown and stand by the electric company on this one particular corner and ask women passing by if they wanted to marry me. But then the electric company moved just about the time I became of age, so I was essentially lost. What now? And as it turned out I never married.

I've had many flings in my mind, I should confess, so I haven't been entirely shut out. I've followed a few in my car, so I definitely know where they live. Unless they've moved, because I'm not keeping track of these things with any kind of ongoing dedication. It's mostly in the spring, when a man's fancies turn to the things of romance. Those are the times you most want to keep your eye out and follow them home.

And now -- this is amazing -- one has followed me home.

Honey, we've never met. Perhaps on the dance floor, I didn't get your name. Excuse me, miss, are these your shorts hanging on the line? I might know you. If my instincts are honed. We shall see where it leads, perhaps we'll date, then marry, then alternately dwell in your father's and my grandmother's home.

The imagination runs wild, as is its function.

But I must slow down. And if I'm going to have dinner with them not forget my head. I need to lead with my head. Every group dynamics, human environmental sciences, lifestyle science, pavlovian trick I can think of! When it's love, it's love. But everything else needs help.