Joy & Sun & Peas & Nails On Woden’s Day

…they chafe their knees….(Bluebelle)

I was out in the sun today, which felt blissful. My solar therapy was inspired by a neighbor of ours who recently described a conversation she had with a doctor about her difficulty maintaining a good sleep pattern. Since this is something that affects both Mrs. Orr and me, we were very attentive to her description of the chat she had with the sawbones.

Our neighbor’s doctor recommended she go outside and take the sun for about 20 minutes twice a day, between 0700 and 0900 each morning, and again within the last two hours before sundown, whether sunny or cloudy, since the sun’s rays penetrate the cloud cover. He said that his personal research suggests that the whole sunblock craze (and let’s keep in mind that chemical companies, or maybe even pharmaceutical companies) are the driving forces behind all this shrill insistence that people be sunblocked and sunglassed any time they are outside. This doctor believes that the sun’s rays are beneficial for the circadian rhythm and that depriving one’s self of them can cause other problems, including a disruption of the sleep cycle.

Rita, our neighbor, reports that she’s been trying this out, and that it really does work. Since it’s my strong belief that most doctors are not to be trusted and that anyone in the pharmaceutical/chemical field are to be devoutly distrusted, this advice was quite appealing. My wife and I have determined to try this regimen for ourselves to see if it helps us sleep better.

Thus, my stroll around today to soak up some sun and manufacture some clean vitamin D. While I was out there, I noticed the houndtwins nosing around some of the purple hull peas. They never actually bit into one of the pods, but they looked like they were at least thinking about it. Had I seen them actually try to eat some of the peas, I would have slapped the dogshit out of them. Because we love our peas, and we are unwilling to share. We’re funny about things like that.

***

My beloved wife has her nails done pretty regularly at a salon a couple of towns away. The salon is run by a Vietnamese husband & wife team, who are friendly and chatty with Mrs. Orr whenever she’s in the shop. They play good country music in the salon and are brisk and skillful and professional in their work. The one thing is that neither of them can seem to remember Mrs. Orr’s name. They are great about remembering that we came here from Texas, that we have grandchildren, things like that. But they never call her by the correct name. Somehow they manage to reserve an appointment for her at the correct time, and they are able to remember other things about her, but her name? They call her “Joy” and notate her name in the appointment book as “Joy.” I mean, it’s definitely a fitting sobriquet for my wife, but it would be nice if they would notice that the credit card receipt doesn’t print out with “Joy Orr” on it.

I find the whole thing very amusing, and have come up with a new nickname for my wife. If any of you ever watched the old Seinfeld show, about a group of neurotic New Yorkers navigating their way through life, you may remember this episode, in which the maitre d’ of a Chinese restaurant ruins one of the characters’ date night by mispronouncing his name:

So, then….I am now calling my wife Joy Cartwright. Feel free to address her thusly. It’ll keep her honest.

I hope all of you are enjoying good health and good weather and good food. Speaking of which, Joy Cartwright is fixing us roast and potatoes for supper. Table for two….!

~ S.K. Orr