In memoriam

Folks, it was so hot this weekend in Texas. (You chime in "How hot is it?"). Well, it was so hot that the glass top on our patio table spontaneously combusted.

I was on the phone yesterday late morning, and as usual, multitasking. Neal and our daughter were horseback riding so my son and I were alone when suddenly he claimed to hear a smashing noise. I must have heard it too on some level because I peeked out the back door for no obvious reason(just as he was alerting me from the other room) and noticed a sea of brilliant shards on the patio where my table once proudly stood.

As is my normal reflex when I see destruction of which the origin is not immediately discernible, I called out to my son. He came running to me asking "What happened to the table?" I ruled him out as a suspect when I saw that he didn't leave bloody footprints in his wake. He looked genuinely puzzled and right away started theorizing as to how such an event could have unfolded.

I ended my phone call and threw on some flip-flops to examine the accident site more closely. I could hardly bear to look at it directly because the spectrum of light coming from this pile of rubble was almost blinding. There was no evidence of a living creature toying with it which made me glad we moved the cat's feeding station from that table to the front porch over a month ago. At least he didn't set in motion the jolting that could potentially have caused a disaster like this. (But let's face it...it would have been kind of funny to see. As long as he wasn't hurt, of course.)

My son's theories included such far-fetched notions as the neighbor's horses jumping their fence and running into our patio table OR a bird landing on it with too much vigor. At the moment though, with no clues as to what compromised the integrity of the glass surface, those theories were just as good as any. I halfway expected Criss Angel to pop out of a tree and admit that he destroyed it with a wave of his hand. We were flabbergasted.

I was concerned about my basil plant surviving a three-foot fall but it sustained the crash very well. Basil is always gonna survive. It's the heartiest of the herbs, after all.

I fished my basil plant out of the wreckage as I wondered how and where I would dispose of this hot mess (literally). Lukily, the recycling pile was lousy with cardboard boxes, so much so that it appeared to be electing officers and taking over the garage. I grabbed a box and started transferring the rubble into it. I knew right away that I would not be able to utilize the full capacity of the box as it would be impossible to lift but I really tried to maximize it nonetheless. Let's just say that I put that box's durability to the test. It was obvious that reinforcements were going to be needed, so I reached for the packing tape. I figured that if my son relies on packing tape to meet over half the needs of his everyday life, I should start falling back on it too.

After forty-five minutes of sweeping and several loads of glass in the trash receptable, it was all a faint memory. All that remained was the metal skeleton, stripped of its utility. I suppose it couldn't have happened at a better time now that all the patio furniture is going into clearance soon.

Let us never forget the good times we had with the patio table. It saw us through countless parties and outdoor meals. It supported turkey fryers and even accommodated a small crawfish boil. For two years, it was Dually's headquarters -- a place where he could grab a drink of water, enjoy some kibble, and strategize about his next kill.

Patio table: 2004 - 2008. R.I.P.