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Random Memories

I pulled up to a stoplight last night...while on my way to get some goatcheese...when I happened to glance across to the minivan stopped next to me. There, staring at me in the rear passenger window opposite, was a little fellow of about four or five, busily picking his nose. Suddenly I was reminded of Suzanne.

I hadn't thought about Suzanne Marie since we broke up...what was it now? Four, maybe five years ago. We had met at a bug museum in Montreal. A great big, tropical, butterfly enclosure, which I found kinda surreal. It was a cold February morning with sleet and wet snow blowing against the outside of the glass and wood domes, while inside it was hot and steamy under the lush tropical foliage and track lighting.

I first noticed Suzanne standing on a small, arched, wooden bridge that spanned the narrow end of a lilypad pond. She was surrounded by various butterflies. A particularly pretty orange one was perched on the side of her head. I thought it really set off her gorgeous jet black hair. I approached and commented on all the butterflies that seemed to be drawn to her. (I hadn't met anyone else in the vast complex the butterflies seemed interested in.)

"Hello. What's your secret?" I inquired. "How do you get them to land on you like that?"

"Excuse moi?" she replied...a small cloud of delicate wings took flight as she turned my way.

"Oh oh. I wonder if she speaks English?" I thought to myself, as I quickly tried to recall my high school French.

"La plume de ma tante est dans la salle." I blurted out without thinking. She looked at me and grinned. Fortunately her English was much better than my French, (which was a tad rusty), and we took it from there.

On our two month anniversary I took Suzanne, (blindfolded), to a small, out of the way, book/antique store, where I had made an appointment with the owner/fortune teller. I guided her to the rear of the store, where I handed over an outrageous amount of money to the little book/antique storeowner/fortune teller, who handed me back a fancy certificate. I then guided Suzanne, (with the book/antique storeowner/fortune teller following close behind), outside where I took off her blindfold.

"Ta Da!" I proudly proclaimed, pointing up to the sky.

"What?" she asked, her eyes trying to get accustomed to all the bright light.

"There! Up there. That one's your's my Darling." I said proudly as I handed her the fancy certificate. "I've had that cloud named after you. What do you think?"

"Ummm...Which cloud? That cloud?" she asked somewhat bewildered.

"No. Not that cloud. That cloud." said the book/antique storeowner/fortune teller. "That cloud is already taken. That is your cloud over there."

Suzanne turned to me with a puzzled look on her face. "I've heard of people having stars named after them but never clouds."

"I can assure you it's all very legal." chimed up the book/antique storeowner/fortune teller.

"Stars cost a fortune to name Hon." I said apologetically. " A cloud was all I can afford right now." (Damn those Nigerian internet scams)

"Well I don't want that cloud...I want that cloud." she demanded, stamping her foot.

"You can't have that cloud." replied the now somewhat angry book/antique storeowner/fortune teller. That cloud is already taken. That's the Utter Gwent cloud. That cloud is the Suzanne Marie Fortiette cloud."

I left the two of them arguing loudly. I don't think either of them even noticed I had gone. I heard later their argument had deteriorated into a wrestling match. Right there in the street.












Okay. Obviously that story is totally ridiculous. There's no way I'd ever stop at a stoplight if I was on my way to pick up some goatcheese.

Yummmm...goatcheese.

Runny...slimy...goatcheese.

Till next time.

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