Flying Forks . . .

 

Years ago, before there was a Nick or a Sam, there was just Jaki Jean living outside the loop in an apartment complex designed for singles.  My time in that complex is another story.

But eventually, I met Marguerite & Richard Pulley & Marguerite introduced me to their friend John Chambless, who had a vacant apartment in one of his holdings.  Inside the loop.

For non-Houstonians, you cannot understand the difference between outside the loop & inside the loop.  Suffice it to say, I belonged inside the loop.  

So I moved into an apartment over John Chambless’ office in a quadraplex on Stanford Street.

Just a few blocks from Marguerite & Richard.  Who adopted me & brought me into their circle of friends.

Richard traveled in the oil biz in those days – which left Marguerite & I to our own devices.  The raccoons that scavenged her trash were frustrated with us – all they found were empty Frexinet bottles & an occasional Lean Cuisine box.

When Richard was in town, he & Marguerite allowed me to cook.  I still smile at the confusion in the lunch room at work when he called & I dictated a grocery list.  The ladies in the lunch room were very suspicious.

One evening, after I cooked, we cleared the table & rinsed the dishes.   

The house on Stanford Street did not have a dishwasher & Marguerite was a great believer in rinsing the dishes & leaving them for the next morning.

But that night I lost my mind & started washing dishes & Richard joined me in the kitchen & started drying.

And in the midst of all our laughter & banter, a fork came flying across the room. 

And missed embedding itself in either of our faces.

I don’t remember what Marguerite said after throwing the fork.

I just remember making a note to myself:  Jaki Jean, do not wash dishes with another woman’s husband.