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Friday, August 31, 2012

People Are Awfully Nice When I'm Accidentally Killing Them

.... and other thoughts on a Friday morn.

So I was on my way to buy several cartloads of pretend/heat'n'go/carcinogen/cheese-flavoured/ die-before-you're-forty kind of groceries on the night before an anticipated weekend getaway with my collector husband. (he collects tv's. And I'm not talkin' vintage). I was thinking about buying easy food for the poor children who would be left at home alone with nothing but microwavable jalapeno poppers and a tall stack of frozen pizzas, a laptop, computer, and flatscreen tv with ten billion video games. These kids have learned the value of a hard day, let me tell you.

I was also deep in thought. I was thinking about profound things like: is 44 too late to think about becoming a grown-up? And, When is the carpet guy going to show up? And; What does "not making myself small" look like in real life? And; How come that "Good and "Natural" Store has a giant sign about rapid weight loss? Have they forgotten to edit the name of their store?

So, I was sort of poking along the parking lot, looking around for a spot really close to the grocery store so as to not accidentally exercise on my way to getting a $280.00 cart full of trans fats. I didn't really notice that I'd crawled to an almost stop right on the crosswalk. Or that someone was silly enough to actually think that I was stopping so they could return to their vehicle.


Fortunately, I didn't entirely kill him. I noticed in time, even though I was smack-dab in the middle of some really epic Deep Thoughts. But here's the thing. He turned toward me just as I was about to slowly crush him, and he mouthed; "Oh. Sorry.". REally. You can't make this stuff up. He was sorry that he hadn't stopped to check whether I was in the middle of Introspection at the point of Pedestrian Intersection.

And in that same split second that it took for him to apologize for me almost killing him, I recognized him as my Main Crush from grade nine. Oh, it was a heart wrenching time, back in the eighties.

I don't think he recognized me. I sure hope not, or he's going to think I'm a total DORK.

Forever. There goes my chances of ever being cool.

Speaking of the cool factor.

Life is so full of moments that delight me. Were these brave women going to get henna tattoos as kind of a practise run for when they go get inked for real? and what would they tattoo?

I enjoyed the mental image of one of them hiking up her long skirt and asking for a sweet tat right on her hip. Just above the pantie line.

Mostly I just enjoyed their moxie. I've always found the idea of a colony fascinating and appealing on some level. No competition for wardrobe. No pinching waistlines. No pressure to "find yourself" and figure out what career is your best bet. No worries about your mortgage, your retirement savings, or your child's public school. Old and young, all together in community.

and yes. That might be a one-dimensional view, but its the one I want to look at today, the day after I didn't actually kill anyone.

It's going to be another hot weekend, my most favorite kind. And the plan was to drive up alongside Lake Winnipeg, all the way to a cabin we've heard tell about. However. The husband hasn't gotten out of bed for three days now because of his grumpy back. Walking is out of the question. No, we weren't planning to walk to the lake, but sitting is also out of the question, so unless I strap him flat on his back to the top of the car and drive four hours north with the glorious freedom of choosing the radio station that I want to listen to, he won't be going anywhere. And I will faithfully stay by his side, delivering breakfast, lunch, and dinner up the stairs while he watches 37 episodes of "Stargate".

(pray for me. He's starting to smell just a little funky)

Well, maybe I'll bring up a microwave and a box of melting jalapeno poppers, set it beside Brian's bedside, and take the kids to the beach tomorrow.

Next week everything changes again.

My big adult girl leaves us for a little while, and my rapidly growing up three others return to school, piano, swimming lessons, volleyball, and not practising their instruments for band. I'll try to make sure they find time for video games, just to keep them balanced.

Did I mention that Brian collects? That reminds me. I have to head to the local hardware store now. It appears that my husband's name got pulled in their draw.

For a television.


Brenda Funk said...

Oh Joyce! Reading this made my day -- you are such a good writer....and incredibly funny at times! Just be careful with the word 'funky', OK?!

janice said...

Ditto, made my day too. Is Brenda Funk related to Pastor David?

joyce said...

I LOVE MY LIFE!! Brenda is David's mother. (isn't there a book about that?) She is one of the main reasons that you love David. His father Elmer is another reason. There might be other reasons, but those are the ones I am sure of.

Brenda said...

Missed you guys at the cottage. We canoed without you, ate scrumptious ribs and garden-fresh quiche without you, sat on the shoreline and watched sunsets without you, sat around the fire and smoked hookah without you...SIGH...just wasn't the same WITHOUT YOU!!