cross that one off the list

On our second date, about a hundred years ago, Jack took me to the Student Union Building at the U to play pool. We drove my little Chevy Chevette and parked near the building and that was the place that he kissed me for the first time. In my car, at the University, under the trees.

Ever since then, I knew that Jack wanted a pool table in his house. For years, we lived in houses that were too small for a pool table. All through those years, we harbored the hope that Jack's mom would give us her pool table because it was in the basement of her old house and you were always hitting the end of the cue into the wall that was too close behind you. But those hopes were dashed when she moved to her current home, taking the pool table with her, and paying someone to set it up in her ginormous basement where you couldn't hit a wall with a pool cue if you threw it. (Perhaps a bit of hyperbole, which in a side note, was the word of the day on Merriam-Webster, just the day after I used it in my blog. Amazing.)

Back to the story.

Today, JoJo and I hopped into the truck and headed over to my parents' house for a visit. It's only a couple of miles away, but on the way, I spotted a yard sale sign that listed some of the really good crap they had for sale, like guitar amps and books and tables and a pool table and dishes. Yes, a pool table was for sale at that yard sale. And it was in one of the neighborhoods of my youth, smack dab in the middle of the trip to my parents' house.

And now, we own a pool table. With seven cues, a brand new set of acrylic balls (for which the previous owner told me several times he paid $200), and all the rest of the pool table fixin's necessary for a fun time in the basement.

Jack and the boys have headed over to bring the table home. Now if only we'd already completed that basement remodel.