“What did you do today?” Maga asked.
“I went to work and then got my hair cut.”
“Ever get your hair set?”
“No. I just had it washed, cut, dried.”
“What does ‘getting your hair set’ mean?”
“They wash it with soap and water, rinse it well, and take the curlers, wrap it up. I sit under the dryer for 45 minutes getting it dry and that’s the sum total of it.”
“How often does this happen?”
“Once a week so it’s kept looking fresh.”
“There’s John Elway,” Maga said. “Are you watching TV?”
“Nope. I’m talking to you.”
“Well, I’m talking to you and watching TV too.”
“I guess you’re better at multitasking than me,” I said.
“What a ball player he was. He played for the Broncos. Do you know him?”
“I know of him, yes. Did you ever see him play?”
“Oh, yes,” she said and detailed the season tickets she and Jobo had. “I don’t do that anymore because I don’t have a male escort to take me.”
I semi-unsuccessfully bit back my laughter. “Why do you need a male escort?”
“It just helps when you’re crossing streets and trying to find your seat.”
“If you say so.”
“It’s also not for older people. At least not at my age.”
“Now that’s what I thought you were going to say before!”
“What’s that? Oh, there’s John Elway. What a ball player.”
Her unwillingness to commit fully to either this conversation or the TV was driving this away from football and more towards race car territory (aka around and around and around a track we go).
“Do you play any summer sports?” Maga asked.
I detailed my work softball team.
“Do you still do that Tuesday night game night?”
I detailed why not.
“Do you have any upcoming travel?”
I detailed my travel itinerary. “Oh, hey, I sent you a postcard from Nantucket. Did you get it yet?”
“No. When did you send it?”
“Saturday. No, Friday.”
“I haven’t gotten it yet. Maybe I’ll check my mailbox when I go out for a walk in a bit. It might be there today.”
“I know how much you love mail.”
“I really do.”
“Mail is super fun. I bet you get a lot.”
“Not as much as you must with all your friends all over the place.”
“No,” I chuckled. “People don’t really send postcards anymore. It’s more phone calls and text messages.”
“Do you and your trivia friends send each other postcards?”
“Didn’t you just tell me you did that?”
“No.” I traced back over the explanations as I reentered
the ring the racetrack.