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Well, here we are, Mr. Pilgrim, trapped in the amber of this moment. There is no why. Slaughterhouse-Five, Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.
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"It's about two o'clock in Tulsa," I heard Dad's disconnected voice playback on my cell phone voice mail. Taking a deep breath, I glanced at a clock, noting it was about four o'clock in Dallas as I braced myself for what came next.
"We're at the justice of the peace and we'll be getting married in, oh about an hour, or so. Call me."
A month ago, I discovered, by accident, that The Family Channel was running My Three Sons episodes from 5-6pm and 1-2am daily. Being a dork, who enjoys old school TV sitcoms, I set our DVR to record the 1-2am block and have settled into a happy habit of watching these episodes every morning, by myself, while drinking coffee. Being an idiot savant in regard to inane trivia, I quickly discerned, much to my delight, that The Family Channel was playing these episodes in chronological order. Being a freak, while I eat lunch, I often look up the episode I watched that morning, to see when it first aired, and any other asinine trivia facts that I can glean from the intertubes.
A few days before I heard Dad's disconnected voice mail voice telling me it was about two o'clock in Tulsa, his real time voice told me that he was going to marry his special lady friend in the near future. Legal reasons with the selling of their homes as they prepared to buy a new one and move in with each other being the major reason. I'd been telling Dad, as well as his special lady friend, that they should go ahead and do it for months. Do it being get married. Why wait, at their age (or any age) if that was what they wanted to do was my point. Thus, his announcement wasn't a surprise, or a disappointment. I was happy for them, because they were happy, and glad that they had finally decided to do it, regardless of their reason. I also knew, knowing Dad, that the near future would probably be sooner rather than later.
"Congratulations," I said after hearing his news.
"Thanks son. I think we'll just go to the justice of the peace to do it, and later we'll have a reception. No gifts. We'll have one in Oklahoma and then one later in Texas to make it easier on you guys. On everybody. No gifts. A party. Nothing big."
"Ok." I said numbly. Not from the news, but the massive hang over I was nursing from the previous night's over indulgence.
"Congratulations," I weakly offered up again, not really knowing what else to say.
"Thanks," he said. "I feel bad though, but I don't think I'll invite your Grandma to the reception."
No shit, I thought.
"I don't think she would understand," he continued.
"I wouldn't worry about it, Dad" I said thinking, Dear Ms. Manners, do I invite my deceased wife's Mom to my getting remarried wedding reception? "I don't think it would be appropriate. And she certainly wouldn't understand."
And she wouldn't. You see Dear Reader, my Grandma lost her husband in 1985 when she was 63 years old. Barring a secret live I'm not aware of, she's never considered dating, let alone remarrying. Then there's the fact that my Grandma and Dad don't really like each other. Forced together because my Dad married her daughter. The only link between them, tenuous at best, is me, the Boy(s) and the ghosts of my Mom and my Mom's Dad.
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If I hadn’t spent so much time studying Earthlings," said the Tralfamadorian, "I wouldn’t have any idea what was meant by 'free will.' I've visited thirty-one inhabited planets in the universe, and I have studied reports on one hundred more. Only on Earth is there any talk of free will." Slaughterhouse-Five, Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.
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The morning after Dad married his special lady friend I watched My Three Sons, by myself, as I drank coffee. The episode, from season 10 for those playing along at home, was one were perennial widower Steve Douglas realizes he's in love with Barbara Harper which sets into motion him getting remarried.
Later that same morning, while getting dressed for work, I heard a cacophony of curses coming from the kitchen which was My Lovely Brides way of letting me know that our Jetsonian dishwasher had not turned itself on and washed our dishes while we slept. If only. Turned out our Jetsonian dishwasher was busted.
Troubled by this news, I did the unlikely act of making myself a bowl of cereal (something I do, at best, four times a month) and went into the front living room by myself to eat. Not wanting to sing along to the age of paranoia by watching Good Morning American I decided to flip the channel and landed on Still Standing. I nearly shit as I sat there crunching on my dirt cereal (Grape Nuts) and watched the Still Bill Vol. 1 episode where Bill, the main character, has to deal with his Dad's remarriage and his new, 9 year old step-brother, also named Bill.
Later that afternoon, while sitting at my desk, eating my lunch, I looked up the episode of My Three Sons I had watched that morning and realized I should have wore a Depends that day. Seriously. Shit myself redux. That episode originally aired on October 18, 1969. My Mom died on October 18 in 2006.
Later that afternoon My Lovely Bride called to inform me that our Jetsonian dishwasher was not busted. It was dead. This time the cacophony of cursing came from me.
"That thing is only a couple of years old!" I raged.
"It's older than that," My Lovely Bride said. "Your Mom got it for us."
"She's only been dead two and half years!" I raged. "That's bullshit!"
"She got it for us for Christmas. Her last Christmas." My Lovely Bride said.
Being that I suck in real time, as well as being enraged over the dead dishwasher, it took me thirty minutes to realize what you probably already have.
That our dishwasher, the last gift Mom gave us, died the day Dad was remarried. That in and of itself is odd, but factor in the Still Standing episode and the My Three Sons episode, and well, fuck me. I can't make this shit up. I'm not that clever.
Since My Lovely Bride and I were hot about the dead Jetsonian dishwasher, I decided to email her my recap of all the synchronistic shit.
Her reply to my email was this: You think too hard. Most people don’t see the connections in our lives like you. Fucked up? Or special.
I vote fucked up.
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So it goes. Slaughterhouse-Five, Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.
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Considering the BLOG posts that I've put out here, the things I've shared or revealed, you might find it odd that this BLOG entry has caused me the most consternation. If I should post it or not. Mainly because I don't want what I've wrote to be misconstrued.
You see Dear Reader, I am happy for my Dad and the new Mrs. Tinsley. The former Mrs. Tinsley, my dead Mom, would want nothing more for my Dad. I believe that. And the same goes for me and my family (excluding my Grandma of course, but that's a story for another time.)
I'm happy my Dad is happy. I wish him and his special lady friend, who is now my Step Mom, nothing but the best.
At the same time though, it makes me sad in a way that is hard for me to express without sounding like I'm talking shit about being happy for my Dad and my new Step Mom. I try, very hard, to not let this sadness pull me under because the last thing I want to do is put a damper on their happiness. They should be happy. Move forward. Live their lives. But in their doing that, I can't help but remember why it is happening in the first place. Because Mom died of cancer eight days after turning sixty-five. That's too young and has caused her to miss so many thing.
Things like Dad getting married (insert rim shot.)
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Whenever you're in Cody, Wyoming, just ask for Wild Bob. Slaughterhouse-Five, Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.
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A few days later My Lovely Bride called me at work and said, "I don't know what to do. I feel like vomiting."
She was dishwasher shopping. She'd been to Home Depot, and was waiting for Conns to open. I suggested she go see one of the blue shirt cats at Sears.
Later that day she called me again, at work, and said, "I've been to Home Depot, Conns and Sears. Guess what the guy's name at Sears was?"
Even though I had a pretty good idea who his name had to be I still said, "I don't know."
"Guess."
"Jerry." I said.
"Yeah," My Lovely Bride said. "It was Jerry."
Jerry is my Dad's name.
Fuck me and Carl Jung.
Until I BLOG again...Many miles away, Something crawls to the surface, Of a dark Scottish loch.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Sunday, April 12, 2009
The future needs a big kiss
"Now, the making of a good compilation tape is a very subtle art. Many do's and don'ts. First of all, you're using someone else's poetry to express how you feel. This is a delicate thing." Rob Gordon
The Boy(s) Papa, Buddy, celebrated his 72nd lap around El Sol on Mother Earth this past week. A few weeks in the rearview, My Lovely Bride asked him what he wanted for his birthday. His answer. A mixed tape (CD) by me. Which I did (four CDs to be exact.) At some point, the Boy(s) caught wind of what was going down, and asked if they could select some songs for a CD, to which we (me and My Lovely Bride) said, why not make a Boy(s) mix for Papa's birthday. Which they did (one glorious CD to be exact.) My Lovely Bride suggested we burn a copy for their memory box. I decided to do one better and chronicle it here so in the Buck Rogers Future, the Boy(s) will have a snap shot of what music they were into when they were 7 and 5 years old. The songs that follow were selected by them alone. I only helped identify a song if they didn't know the name (they often name a song by lyrics versus the actual song title or artist.) They got pretty good taste if I do say so myself, especially considering their age. I've added a few notes, as well as who picked what song for posterity.
72 (Papa's age on April 7, 2009): E & Wy Mix
1: Highway To Hell by AC/DC
Boy(s) pick. Great choice, which makes a powerful opening statement.
2: The Devil Went Down To Georgia by Charlie Daniels
Wy's pick. The Younger Boy loves this song because of Guitar Hero and battling the devil. Nice symmetry with the opening track.
3: Jesus of Suburbia by Green Day
E's pick. The Elder Boy has loved Green Day since he was very small. He used to call it 'angry music.' Nice symmetry redux with Track 1 and 2.
4: I was Made for Lovin' You by Kiss
Wy's pick, although both the Boy(s) love this track as I BLOGGED here.
5: T.N.T. by AC/DC
E's pick. The Elder Boy loves this track, especially the oy, oy, oy part, and most everything by AC/DC (he leans more toward old school AC/DC with Bon Scott handling vocals.)
6: Viva La Vida by Coldplay
E's pick. Nice jump cut transition from previous track.
7: American Music by Violent Femmes
E's pick. Wy likes this song too, but not as much as the Elder Boy and My Lovely Bride. Sick funny and Father of the Year worthy when I hear E sing along to this song (Did you do too many drugs too.)
8: Dead Man's Party by Oingo Boingo
Wy's pick. This has been a favorite of Wy Wy's for a very long time (which is saying a lot since he's only 5.)
9: Helicopter by Bloc Party
E's pick. Turned onto it by Guitar Hero.
10: Who Let The Dogs by Baha Men
Wy's pick. This song is so dissimilar to what the Younger Boy generally digs, yet he loves it. Cheesy good fun.
11: Barracuda by Heart
E's pick. Been a favorite for more than a year now.
12: Beer Cans by Old 97's
E's pick. Random out take Old 97's cover that the Boy loves, while not loving much else by one of my favorite bands.
13: Hot by Smash Mouth
E's pick. Random Smash Tune that E got turned onto from a Hot Wheels DVD his Granny bought for him when he was three.
14: Rock And Roll All Nite by Kiss
Wy's pick. Our man Bruce and his Lovely Bride Kim, knowing of Wy's love of Guitar Hero, got Wy a rock-n-roll birthday card for his 5th birthday party that plays this song. Wy has been hooked ever since.
I'm not sure what Buddy (Papa) thought of the Boy(s) mixed tape (CD.) I for one think it is awesome.
Until I BLOG again...Let me in the sound.
The Boy(s) Papa, Buddy, celebrated his 72nd lap around El Sol on Mother Earth this past week. A few weeks in the rearview, My Lovely Bride asked him what he wanted for his birthday. His answer. A mixed tape (CD) by me. Which I did (four CDs to be exact.) At some point, the Boy(s) caught wind of what was going down, and asked if they could select some songs for a CD, to which we (me and My Lovely Bride) said, why not make a Boy(s) mix for Papa's birthday. Which they did (one glorious CD to be exact.) My Lovely Bride suggested we burn a copy for their memory box. I decided to do one better and chronicle it here so in the Buck Rogers Future, the Boy(s) will have a snap shot of what music they were into when they were 7 and 5 years old. The songs that follow were selected by them alone. I only helped identify a song if they didn't know the name (they often name a song by lyrics versus the actual song title or artist.) They got pretty good taste if I do say so myself, especially considering their age. I've added a few notes, as well as who picked what song for posterity.
72 (Papa's age on April 7, 2009): E & Wy Mix
1: Highway To Hell by AC/DC
Boy(s) pick. Great choice, which makes a powerful opening statement.
2: The Devil Went Down To Georgia by Charlie Daniels
Wy's pick. The Younger Boy loves this song because of Guitar Hero and battling the devil. Nice symmetry with the opening track.
3: Jesus of Suburbia by Green Day
E's pick. The Elder Boy has loved Green Day since he was very small. He used to call it 'angry music.' Nice symmetry redux with Track 1 and 2.
4: I was Made for Lovin' You by Kiss
Wy's pick, although both the Boy(s) love this track as I BLOGGED here.
5: T.N.T. by AC/DC
E's pick. The Elder Boy loves this track, especially the oy, oy, oy part, and most everything by AC/DC (he leans more toward old school AC/DC with Bon Scott handling vocals.)
6: Viva La Vida by Coldplay
E's pick. Nice jump cut transition from previous track.
7: American Music by Violent Femmes
E's pick. Wy likes this song too, but not as much as the Elder Boy and My Lovely Bride. Sick funny and Father of the Year worthy when I hear E sing along to this song (Did you do too many drugs too.)
8: Dead Man's Party by Oingo Boingo
Wy's pick. This has been a favorite of Wy Wy's for a very long time (which is saying a lot since he's only 5.)
9: Helicopter by Bloc Party
E's pick. Turned onto it by Guitar Hero.
10: Who Let The Dogs by Baha Men
Wy's pick. This song is so dissimilar to what the Younger Boy generally digs, yet he loves it. Cheesy good fun.
11: Barracuda by Heart
E's pick. Been a favorite for more than a year now.
12: Beer Cans by Old 97's
E's pick. Random out take Old 97's cover that the Boy loves, while not loving much else by one of my favorite bands.
13: Hot by Smash Mouth
E's pick. Random Smash Tune that E got turned onto from a Hot Wheels DVD his Granny bought for him when he was three.
14: Rock And Roll All Nite by Kiss
Wy's pick. Our man Bruce and his Lovely Bride Kim, knowing of Wy's love of Guitar Hero, got Wy a rock-n-roll birthday card for his 5th birthday party that plays this song. Wy has been hooked ever since.
I'm not sure what Buddy (Papa) thought of the Boy(s) mixed tape (CD.) I for one think it is awesome.
Until I BLOG again...Let me in the sound.
Wednesday, April 08, 2009
Stand Up Comedy
If I was better in real time. And life was funny like on TV and smart like it is in books. I would have seen the Elder Boy's drawing for what it was. Foreshadowing.
But I'm a dumbass. Who sucks in real time. So I didn't make much of his alien space ship shooting a death ray into a cartoon version of the church which graced a label which was affixed to the front cover of his lap pad binder.
Instead I left My Lovely Bride and the Elder Boy in the pew and went to the bathroom. Dumb. I should have taken the Boy with me. The alien ship and death ray should have been all I needed to realize he was bored and hungry. That's a daily double of trouble for him (not being able to deal when hungry is a trait he gets from My Lovely Bride.)
To be honest, I was bored and hungry too. I could deal with the hungry part. Boredom. Not so much. That's why I went to the bathroom. I could have held it. But I wanted out of there, fast, because of the singing. It kept going on and on and on, which made that service seem as if it would too. I should note that I truly enjoy our church. For real. I'm not just typing that in case someone from there stops by here, reads this entry and is horrified (at least have the courtesy to tell me I'm going to hell in comments. They are on and ready.) But the music, not so much. It is too traditional for my tastes. I wish they would mix it up and add more contemporary elements.
I digress.
This isn't about my church music preferences. You don't care about that. You care about me going to pee when I could have held it which was my juvenile reaction to getting out of church early because I was bored because of the singing that wouldn't end. Just like the Elder Boy who was also hungry (which equals bitter) and feeling forsaken by me, sitting in the pew with My Lovely Bride with a pencil and a lap pad binder cover that was virginal white, if you didn't count the label with the cartoon facade of the church with the space ship shooting a death ray into it.
It was in that virginal white area that the forsaken, bored and hungry Elder Boy, took his bitterness to a whole new level, lost his shit, and desecrated the lap pad cover below that label with the cartoon facade of the church with the space ship shooting a death ray into it.
To say My Lovely Bride was upset by the Boy's blasphemous (and misspelled) sacrilege would be an understatement. She was livid.
I'm not sure what pissed her off more. The vandalized lap pad (she had once worked at the church and been responsible for the creation and restocking of those pads.) The fact that his impiety was misspelled (My Lovely Bride is an early education major and teacher who is flummoxed by the Elder Boy's short comings with such things.) Or the actual desecration. (Of course it could be D: all of the above.)
Later, sequestered in an empty classroom near the narthex, I watched him try to erase what he wrote on the lap pad cover below that label with the cartoon facade of the church with the space ship shooting a death ray into it.
"Scrub harder," I said. "It's not coming off."
Nothing. Just tears.
"Mom is mad," I said. "Really mad."
Nothing. More tears.
"I'm mad too," I said.
"I'm sorry," he cried.
"I know you are sorry. You were probably sorry as soon as you did it. But that doesn't change what you did."
"Do you want to know why I'm upset?" I asked.
"Because of what I wrote," he cried.
"No."
That revelation stopped the Boy in his tracks.
"Really," I continued in response to the curious, are you messing with me, or is this a trap type of look he was giving me.
"I'm upset because you wrote on the lap bad binder. Not what you wrote. I don't think you meant that anyway, but even if, you are going to decide what you do and don't believe in this life. I can't make those decisions for you. Mom either. And I won't force you. All Mommy and Daddy can do is try and guide you. To make what we think are good choices."
"What you wrote there," I said pointing at the lap pad cover below that label with the cartoon facade of the church with the space ship shooting a death ray into it, "well, that wasn't a good choice. Was it?"
"I'm sorry," he cried.
"I know you're sorry. But that doesn't change what you did."
"You want to know what I'm the most mad about?" I asked.
"Yeah," he sniffled.
"What upsets me is that you got mad and impatient and lost your shit and reacted. It doesn't matter what you wrote, its that you did it in the first place, when you could have thought about what you were doing, stopped, and asked to go to the bathroom, or to be excused, or something. Instead you got mad, and did something you knew would be offensive, and in the process did something that I think is disrespectful, and that isn't something Daddy will condone --- or allow."
"I'm sorry," he said.
"I know you are sorry. And I don't think you meant what you wrote or meant to be disrespectful which is why I'm not punishing you this time."
"If you do something like this again though, I'll not only spank you, I'll also take away your (inserting his current favorite thing, Pokemon Cards.) For good. No getting them back. Do you understand?"
"Yeah," he sniffled.
"Good. This is your only warning. Ever."
"Ok," he said.
"I don't want you being disrespectful. And I don't mean what you wrote. That's your choice. What you believe. I don't want you to be disrespectful with something that people use, like the lap pad. People took the time to make that and restock it, so kids like you have something to do in church. Mommy used to have to restock those things. That's probably why she's so mad, to be honest. Maybe what you wrote has something to do with it too, but I don't really think you meant that. You did it because you were mad and you didn't think. You're a good kid who made a bad choice. Next time make a good choice, or be smart enough to ask to be excused and go to the bathroom..." I stopped short of saying what I was thinking. Like I did.
Earlier in the bathroom by the narthex, after peeing when I could have held it, I washed my hands, repeatedly, while wondering if the singing had finally stopped while unbeknownst to me the Elder Boy was inside the sanctuary losing his shit, and desecrating the lap pad binder.
After what seemed an eternity, I dried my hands, and walked out of the bathroom and into the narthex to find a very angry version of My Lovely Bride standing next to a very upset version of the Elder Boy. When she saw me, My Lovely Bride held out the offending lap pad with the alien space ship shooting a death ray into a cartoon version of the church which graced a label which was affixed to the front cover.
I was transfixed.
And not because of the Boy's blasphemous (and misspelled) sacrilege.
I was transfixed because I could hear that they were still singing in the sanctuary.
Seriously.
Fuck me, I'm afraid to say I thought.
I guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.
Until I BLOG again...Stop helping God across the road like a little old lady.http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_iZN06qqBE4
Postscript 1: I recently found out that My Lovely Bride never even noticed the Elder Boy's drawing of the alien space ship shooting a death ray into a cartoon version of the church which graced the label which was affixed to the front cover of his lap pad binder. This is ironic on two levels. The first being that Mies van der Rohe once opined that God is in the details. And second, because My Lovely Bride deplored those lap pads when she worked in a job that required she monitor and help with their upkeep.
Postscript 2: I guess it's better that she missed van der Rohe vision of God in the details of the Elder Boy's drawing of the alien space ship shooting a death ray into a cartoon version of the church which graced a label which was affixed to the front cover of his lap pad binder and only noticed the Boy's misspelled version instead. Otherwise she would have been über-livid (if that's even a word.)
But I'm a dumbass. Who sucks in real time. So I didn't make much of his alien space ship shooting a death ray into a cartoon version of the church which graced a label which was affixed to the front cover of his lap pad binder.
Instead I left My Lovely Bride and the Elder Boy in the pew and went to the bathroom. Dumb. I should have taken the Boy with me. The alien ship and death ray should have been all I needed to realize he was bored and hungry. That's a daily double of trouble for him (not being able to deal when hungry is a trait he gets from My Lovely Bride.)
To be honest, I was bored and hungry too. I could deal with the hungry part. Boredom. Not so much. That's why I went to the bathroom. I could have held it. But I wanted out of there, fast, because of the singing. It kept going on and on and on, which made that service seem as if it would too. I should note that I truly enjoy our church. For real. I'm not just typing that in case someone from there stops by here, reads this entry and is horrified (at least have the courtesy to tell me I'm going to hell in comments. They are on and ready.) But the music, not so much. It is too traditional for my tastes. I wish they would mix it up and add more contemporary elements.
I digress.
This isn't about my church music preferences. You don't care about that. You care about me going to pee when I could have held it which was my juvenile reaction to getting out of church early because I was bored because of the singing that wouldn't end. Just like the Elder Boy who was also hungry (which equals bitter) and feeling forsaken by me, sitting in the pew with My Lovely Bride with a pencil and a lap pad binder cover that was virginal white, if you didn't count the label with the cartoon facade of the church with the space ship shooting a death ray into it.
It was in that virginal white area that the forsaken, bored and hungry Elder Boy, took his bitterness to a whole new level, lost his shit, and desecrated the lap pad cover below that label with the cartoon facade of the church with the space ship shooting a death ray into it.
To say My Lovely Bride was upset by the Boy's blasphemous (and misspelled) sacrilege would be an understatement. She was livid.
I'm not sure what pissed her off more. The vandalized lap pad (she had once worked at the church and been responsible for the creation and restocking of those pads.) The fact that his impiety was misspelled (My Lovely Bride is an early education major and teacher who is flummoxed by the Elder Boy's short comings with such things.) Or the actual desecration. (Of course it could be D: all of the above.)
Later, sequestered in an empty classroom near the narthex, I watched him try to erase what he wrote on the lap pad cover below that label with the cartoon facade of the church with the space ship shooting a death ray into it.
"Scrub harder," I said. "It's not coming off."
Nothing. Just tears.
"Mom is mad," I said. "Really mad."
Nothing. More tears.
"I'm mad too," I said.
"I'm sorry," he cried.
"I know you are sorry. You were probably sorry as soon as you did it. But that doesn't change what you did."
"Do you want to know why I'm upset?" I asked.
"Because of what I wrote," he cried.
"No."
That revelation stopped the Boy in his tracks.
"Really," I continued in response to the curious, are you messing with me, or is this a trap type of look he was giving me.
"I'm upset because you wrote on the lap bad binder. Not what you wrote. I don't think you meant that anyway, but even if, you are going to decide what you do and don't believe in this life. I can't make those decisions for you. Mom either. And I won't force you. All Mommy and Daddy can do is try and guide you. To make what we think are good choices."
"What you wrote there," I said pointing at the lap pad cover below that label with the cartoon facade of the church with the space ship shooting a death ray into it, "well, that wasn't a good choice. Was it?"
"I'm sorry," he cried.
"I know you're sorry. But that doesn't change what you did."
"You want to know what I'm the most mad about?" I asked.
"Yeah," he sniffled.
"What upsets me is that you got mad and impatient and lost your shit and reacted. It doesn't matter what you wrote, its that you did it in the first place, when you could have thought about what you were doing, stopped, and asked to go to the bathroom, or to be excused, or something. Instead you got mad, and did something you knew would be offensive, and in the process did something that I think is disrespectful, and that isn't something Daddy will condone --- or allow."
"I'm sorry," he said.
"I know you are sorry. And I don't think you meant what you wrote or meant to be disrespectful which is why I'm not punishing you this time."
"If you do something like this again though, I'll not only spank you, I'll also take away your (inserting his current favorite thing, Pokemon Cards.) For good. No getting them back. Do you understand?"
"Yeah," he sniffled.
"Good. This is your only warning. Ever."
"Ok," he said.
"I don't want you being disrespectful. And I don't mean what you wrote. That's your choice. What you believe. I don't want you to be disrespectful with something that people use, like the lap pad. People took the time to make that and restock it, so kids like you have something to do in church. Mommy used to have to restock those things. That's probably why she's so mad, to be honest. Maybe what you wrote has something to do with it too, but I don't really think you meant that. You did it because you were mad and you didn't think. You're a good kid who made a bad choice. Next time make a good choice, or be smart enough to ask to be excused and go to the bathroom..." I stopped short of saying what I was thinking. Like I did.
Earlier in the bathroom by the narthex, after peeing when I could have held it, I washed my hands, repeatedly, while wondering if the singing had finally stopped while unbeknownst to me the Elder Boy was inside the sanctuary losing his shit, and desecrating the lap pad binder.
After what seemed an eternity, I dried my hands, and walked out of the bathroom and into the narthex to find a very angry version of My Lovely Bride standing next to a very upset version of the Elder Boy. When she saw me, My Lovely Bride held out the offending lap pad with the alien space ship shooting a death ray into a cartoon version of the church which graced a label which was affixed to the front cover.
I was transfixed.
And not because of the Boy's blasphemous (and misspelled) sacrilege.
I was transfixed because I could hear that they were still singing in the sanctuary.
Seriously.
Fuck me, I'm afraid to say I thought.
I guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.
Until I BLOG again...Stop helping God across the road like a little old lady.http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_iZN06qqBE4
Postscript 1: I recently found out that My Lovely Bride never even noticed the Elder Boy's drawing of the alien space ship shooting a death ray into a cartoon version of the church which graced the label which was affixed to the front cover of his lap pad binder. This is ironic on two levels. The first being that Mies van der Rohe once opined that God is in the details. And second, because My Lovely Bride deplored those lap pads when she worked in a job that required she monitor and help with their upkeep.
Postscript 2: I guess it's better that she missed van der Rohe vision of God in the details of the Elder Boy's drawing of the alien space ship shooting a death ray into a cartoon version of the church which graced a label which was affixed to the front cover of his lap pad binder and only noticed the Boy's misspelled version instead. Otherwise she would have been über-livid (if that's even a word.)
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