Fire plugs, walkers, and another new word

 

My friend Carol a the base of the world's largest (tilted) fire plug

Fire plugs don’t enter my consciousness much. I was never one of those kids who opened one on the streets of Chicago in summer to get a cool shower. And nowadays, I don’t think they are found much on city streets, are they? But a fire plug gave me a good laugh last night.

Subie and I went to dinner—a whole different story—and she mentioned that our friend Carol and her husband are in the Carolinas. Subie suggested that the highlight of their trip would be a visit to the world’s biggest fire plug, located in Columbia, SC. I was mildly interested, though I hoped they would have other and better reasons for driving all that distance. I love the Carolinas—having spent summer vacations there for several years when my folks retired to Tryon, NC. But I never went to see a fire plug.

After our supper, I went home, cleaned up details on my desk, and started the new entry in the long-running Murder, She Wrote series. Killing in a Koi Pond is something like fifty-fourth out of fifty-five books in the series, but it is the first one that my virtual friend Terrie Moran wrote. She and I are acquaintances through the Guppies subgroup of Sisters in Crime, and we use the same webmaster. So I feel free to fall her friend even though we’ve never actually met. I wanted to read Killing in a Koi Pond to support Terrie and to see how she handled jumping into a long-running series. I think it’s a coup to be asked to “co-author” with Jessica, and I am, as most cozy writers are, a fan of Jessica Fletcher, Cabot Cover-syndrome aside.

So I started the book, and within the first six pages, Jessica is in Columbia visiting the world’s largest fire plug. I have lived all the long years of my life without hearing of this monument and suddenly I hear of it twice in the space of a couple of hours. Naturally I googled it and discovered it was done in 2001 by an artist who calls himself Blue Sky. He had done a mural in 1985 and placed the fire plug so that it complemented the mural. The monument is forty feet tall and weighs 675,000 pounds. It is deliberately off center, imbalanced, as the Leaning Tower of Pisa—in Columbia, it looks like maybe a truck ran into it. Originally it was meant to be a fountain, but the spigots stopped flowing and repair became too costly. If you’re ever in Columbia, don’t miss it.

In other news of the day, I tried out the upright walker, now that it is assembled. And I am devastated to say that it will have to be returned. The base is much wider and larger than my seated walker, so that it is a clumsy thing to manuever and has the turning radius of an eighteen-wheeler. On my one trial I felt it was unmanageable, and the physical therapist likened it to a huge monster. This is one case where Jordan gets to say, “I told you so.” I’ll  stick with my rolling walker with a seat.

So now, Christian and Jacob must disassemble it, though Christian tells me it really is in four large parts held together by only two screws. That alone gives me pause—sounds like it could easily come apart and drop me on the ground. Amazon has a good returns policy, and we will get it off to them shortly.

And today’s new word is—ta dah!—“sockdolager.” Hats off to retired Fort Worth Star-Telegram columnist Roger Summers who used it in reference to an upcoming local election. Our mayor announced her retirement some weeks ago and has been duly replaced by a young woman who has the support of “establishment Fort Worth.” Then this week, county judge Glenn Whitley announced his looming retirement, and outgoing Mayor Betsy Price immediately announced her candidacy for the judge’s position. And then we hear that the new mayor, Mattie Parker, has political aspirations beyond the mayoralty and will be running for the House of Representatives seat now held (for a long time) by Kay Granger, when Granger retires. I wonder if anyone has told Granger that gleeful hands are rubbing together in anticipation of the retirement she hasn’t yet announced. All of that is a digression from the word sockdolager, which means a forceful blow or an exceptional person or thing. Hmm—hope Mr. Summers tells us which definition he had in mind.

And life goes on in Cowtown, where it is now hot and steamy. Summer has come, and I’m already wishing for the rains of earlier in the week.