It’s Saturday night and the babysitter comes and we’re heading out, The Desoto Hour blaring Big Band on WREK. The Glenn Miller Orchestra fills the car, flooding my senses so instantly that I smell him, ever-clean, Old Spice when Old Spice was still the thing a kid might clumsily wrap up for Father’s Day, and I see him, sidling up behind my mother in the kitchen, and I can tell he’s feeling romantic as he hums and wraps his arms around her, reaching for her hands, but she’s working and shoos him off, irritated but not really. He whistles, swaying along with the band, and I feel her softening, trying not to smile, and he feels it too, and begins rowing her arms back and forth until she gives in and they’re dancing on the faux brick tile, one circle, then two, ‘til she’s had enough nonsense and pushes away, “alright, alright,” turning back to the stove, affecting nonchalance, but the moment fills the room, and now the car, and still my heart, eclipsing death like saxophones swelling around a clarinet, transcending melody.
Waiting at the vet, Aud spies a box of chocolate glazed Krispy Kremes by the coffee and helps herself. I tell Brooks to climb up on the digital pet scale, curious to see how much he weighs these days. As if the very act turned him into a dog, I have to keep zeroing it out, encouraging him to hold still for a few seconds until the numbers stop at “Hold”. Aud wanders over and takes a turn, and as she stands there watching the readout, I notice she’s holding her arm out at a strange, backwards-diagonal angle.
Me: “What are you doing?”
Aud: “Oh, I’m just trying to keep the doughnut off.”
Nobody can make you do weirder shit than a dog. Just realized I was straddling Floyd, swaying and singing in a baby voice, “Pardon me please, is this the Chattanooga Choo Choo?”
Commercials airing during The Shining are like toddlers appearing during sex.
This morning, Fudge strolled into the kitchen w/his breakfast dishes just as the NPR reporter began: “A British soldier was hacked to death on a London stre—” W/out thinking, I leaned down and screamed “LALALALALA!!!!” directly into his face so he couldn’t hear. Reminded me once again of my favorite mom quote in a movie ever: “He’s gonna find out that the world is a horrible place and that people suck soon enough and without any help from you.” [Laura Linney as Sammy, “You Can Count on Me”]
My poor mom is visiting. She is very, very neat, so I always wind up doing this frantic Hail Mary houseclean the second I realize her plane’s in the air. I was still sweating from the effort when, w/in the first 2 minutes of her arrival, Fudge goes: “Granny, guess what?” Granny: “What?” Fudge: “It was SO funny when we woke up this morning, b/c there was this GIANT pile of dog poop under the breakfast table, right where your feet are!”
Our contractor asked me to meet w/a guy named John Hamm to discuss hardware — knobs and pulls and the like. I’m working it in.