Happy 51st…

Even though we didn’t get to bed until about 4:00AM, I was up by 9:00. I made a pot of coffee, checked my mail, glanced at the morning paper online, including the obits, and caught up my journal for Friday and Saturday. Robert finished the book he was reading, and around noon, headed back to Chapel Hill.

Before leaving, he checked my mail for me, since I hadn’t checked it yesterday. In it, was the sweetest Thank You card from him, with this cover:

And this on the inside:

Such a sweet man he is. Actually he’d already thanked me last weekend. Before he left to go home on Sunday, he said, “I will always remember this week as one of the happiest weeks of my life.” How can you put a value on that? It warmed my heart to the point of making me tear up. He talked about the “heart” part of the trip — connecting with the people: the little girl in the bakery, and that man at the restaurant who touched him with the comment, “I wish your friend good health,” when he went back there to get us dinner that day I wasn’t feeling well.

Such great memories, indeed. I’m better for having shared them with him.

I spent the afternoon reading, and thinking about the paper I have to write for Tuesday’s class. At about 5:30, I hopped in the shower, and at around 5:45, headed over to Red Lobster at Crossroads. I brought my book with me to read while waiting for my dinner. I had the Crab Stuffed Broiled Flounder, and it was the deal!

I ran over to Target nearby, and looked for the coffee stain toothpaste, and once again did not find the brand that Robert had. I bought Rembrandt’s version of it — coffee and tea stain removal — something like that.

I called mom and dad to wish them a Happy 51st Anniversary. Such memories of a year ago today down in Orlando at Emeril’s. Mom was at bingo; they had gone out for a steak dinner earlier. “51. It’s just one more. Just another number,” was dad’s take, though he did say it with a little laugh, and I know he’s proud of it.

I met Joe at Flex. We didn’t play pool all night, as we never put our name up on the board, and these two guys and two girls kept playing and playing and playing. One of them was that cowboy singer that Joe and I both don’t care for — such an arrogant guy.

Andre was talking to Joe when I arrived, and eventually left us alone to go play a game of pool. He stopped back in every now and then. At one point we got into a conversation about taxes and itemizing and writing things off, and it was heading into one of those conversations like the ones I used to have with him — such as the one about introducing him as my “Russian” friend, and what “cheating” means. I said, “You know what Andre, I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

“But, I just…”

“No, I don’t want to talk about it. It’s turning into one of those conversations like we used to have. It’s too much work, I’m tired, and I don’t want to continue. Let’s drop it.” He looked a little embarrassed, and Joe was looking at me like I was speaking some foreign language. Hated to do that in front of him, but I just was not going to go there.

Joe (from the ride) came at about 9:00. He sat with us, and I listened to about three karaoke songs before leaving. They actually started karaoke at 9:10 instead of waiting ujntil 9:30 like the usually do.

I came home and did homework.