Sometimes life makes me think of that watermelon a neighbor left on our front porch when we lived most of the year in the beautiful mountains of Western North Carolina in a special place called Rice Cove. The watermelon was round, sweet, and full of juice.

It’s only been a month since I posted last, but savoring all the rich moments of life in all its improbability brings me back to the page to drink deeply from the mug of memory (and Peet’s Espresso Forte freshly ground this morning).

Buck and I celebrated our 42nd anniversary on February 17. I can’t exactly call it a wedding anniversary, since (at the ages of 46 and 33), we eloped to Dothan, Alabama and were married by the sweetest old judge. Some new friends, W and S — the kind you feel like you’ve known all your life — joined us for a special lunch I made at home. It was W’s 93rd birthday. He’s a noted pediatric surgeon who saved and improved the lives of many an infant. At the symphony with them one beautiful evening, where they’ve been members for decades, I witnessed a young-ish woman approach, arms out, smiling: “Dr. W!” Before he could fully register her approach, she had wrapped this small, elegant man in her perfumed arms and thanked him for saving her life when she was three months old. After she left, he looked at me with a crooked smile and adjusted his glasses. “That’s the second time this week something like that has happened.”

The lunch was fun to make: poached local shrimp and diced lobster with a homemade New Orleans-style remoulade sauce and Buck’s cocktail sauce, along with icy gazpacho, followed by coffee and key lime pie.

Our friends brought along their pup, G, a golden doodle heavy on the poodle side, who was such a happy girl, we halfway thought about finding a companion for Lulabelle. They hit it off big and I was sorry to see them leave to return to their downtown riverside condo.

There was even a silly moment of delight, when I asked our new toy, an Amazon Echo Show 21, to help us celebrate our friend’s 93rd birthday, whereupon (much to the surprise of our guests) Alexa (in it’s so-called “calm” male voice, one of 4 male/4 female versions) wished W a happy birthday and delivered its robot self of a rather good meditation on longevity. And then it played a simple version of Happy Birthday. You should have seen W’s smile. Actually, he laughed out loud. We all did.

Look, there’s two ways to view artificial intelligence: burrow into a tunnel, stop using computers, and fughetaboutit. Or, understanding that once we’re born it’s too late anyway, chill and enjoy the absurdity before the robots enslave or kill us all.

More later. A lot has happened. I’ve even learned how to get rid of intermittent tachycardia that was starting to be troublesome. Ta da! So stay tuned.