Sunday, April 26, 2009

A Man Like The One That Married Mom





Laughter, pleading, barking; that is what I woke up to this bright and sunny morning causing me to bury my head under my pillow in a useless attempt to buy some more time to wake up. How rude, someone's trying to sleep late and there's a tickle party on the other side of the mattress! I punched blindly out at my husband who had my daughter in a contortion a pretzel would be proud of, begging for mercy while Scruffy, our loyal terrier, used the opportunity to lick Cindy's face, or any exposed body part, as often as he could! I raised the corner of my foam comfort pillow only to have a furry, wirery tail dust the sleep out of my eyes so that I could get an unobscured look at his back side, a sight now ruthlessly etched into my memory forever.

"Okay, that's enough!" I hollered jumping up, grapping my water bottle and pouring water on anything that moved onto my side of the bed.

"Hey," Cindy yelled, "Not fair!"

"What's not fair is waking up early on my day off to this!" I complained, good naturedly.

"Mom, dad is so mean! He won't let me go over to Missy's until he meets her parents. Missy's parents never care if she comes over here without meeting you! They treat her like a grown up that can make her own decisions." Cindy wailed, tears still rolling down her cheeks from the physical assault Dad had executed on her to remind her she was still his little baby girl.(The physical assault that resulted in uncontrollable, hard, rib splitting laughter.)

"Then invite her over here, I know we're good people," Dad said slipping out of bed to ready himself for Saturday honey-dos. It was obvious the female population couldn't survive without the male race to install light bulbs, fix drains, and mow the yard, etcetera, and etcetera. Little did he know the female race, being superior, had manipulated man into matrimonial slavery.

Fortunately the bell rang, temporarily ending the fight as Cindy answered her cell. I swear that girl would bring that phone with her at the rapture to text message her friends in the clouds on where to meet when they got to heaven!

"Oh never mind," Cindy groused, "Missy is coming over here and I wanted to play with her WII," she said, tugging her clothes back into shape and making an effort to regain her composure and anger. Laughter somehow seems to dampen a bad mood.

“What’s a wee?” Dad queried from the bathroom door, razor in hand.

“Man dad, don’t you know anything?” Cindy exclaimed storming from the room.

Dad looked at me and I shrugged as I asked, “Aren’t you glad we only have one?”

Scruffy and I burrowed back under the comforters for more snoozing after I heard the doorbell ring; I assumed it was Missy, Cindy’s new friend from school. Her dad was right. We wouldn’t let Cindy visit anyone whose parent’s we hadn’t met, I’m surprised in this day and age parents would ever let their kids go into stranger’s houses. I’ve even answered the door to girl scouts out selling cookies unsupervised, and then I hear the radio or television announcing an Amber Alert. Don’t people learn anything from other’s mistakes?

First it was the laughter and horse playing that had aroused me, this time it was Scruffy’s snoring, right in my ear. I didn’t stand a snowball’s chance in ….(think of someplace hot) …at ever getting any more sleep this morning so I decided I needed to get up and do something domestic, like making a batch of hot fruity pancakes to smother in lots of gooey syrup. Can’t sleep, why waste the time not eating! Works for me.

I passed Missy and Cindy in the living room hooking up Missy’s WII to our very large, very expensive, very unpaid for high definition television. All right you go girl, thanks for bringing it with you, now my husband’s off the hook with Cindy.

Greg came into the kitchen with one hand behind his back. “Honey, is there something you’ve neglected to tell me?”

“Not that I can think of, but I’m sure whatever you’re holding will jog my memory.”

His hand came forward. The tail light came forward. My memory data base came forward.

“Oops, I guess I forgot to mention I backed into our mail box yesterday.” I confessed. I wasn’t deliberately concealing anything from him; I just have selective memory loss, usually in my favor, that’s the best kind to have. I have a hard time remembering routine mistakes and car mishaps are fairly routine for me!

Missy whispered to Cindy, “Do you think we better go someplace else, someplace safe?”

“Huh, why?” Cindy’s attention was only slightly split between her virtual bowling game and Missy’s question.

“So your mom and dad can fight in private.”

“What? Fight over a tail light. Heck, dad has better survival instincts than that!” Cindy responded sending more pins into virtual oblivion.

The doorbell peeled through the house in beautiful harmony while Greg informed me he placed the tail light on the honey do priority list.

I opened the door to an exceptionally handsome young man who claimed to be looking for Missy, who I called front and center then went back to the kitchen to beat my pancake batter. There had better be no more interruptions into my cooking frenzy as I was mass producing saliva in anticipation of a exceptional dining experience that couldn’t be rivaled in any public diner.

I stopped my spatula in mid air as I caught drift of the conversation going on at my front door.

“I got off work so we can spend the day together,” male voice said.

“I planned on spending the day with Cindy,” Missy explained.“Of course that was before you knew I wasn’t going to be off today, get your things and let’s go,” male voice suggested.

Missy; “I really want to stay here, let’s get together latter.”

“Listen I don’t have any money and I don’t want to waste the day at home with my old man, so at least spare me some of your change” male voice.

Missy; “I spent it all on our dinner last night.”

This conversation was beginning to …….disturb me a little…no; it was disturbing me a lot! I was holding the spatula with a death grip, I needed something more threatening, if I walked out into the living room with a spatula bathed in pancake batter all I could do was..was….slap his cheeks with it and challenge him to a duel!


My reverie cost me the last few word exchanges before the door shut. Drat it, at least Missy was still here, thank heavens she held her guns.

I peeked out into the living room where Missy was back at the WII with the controls in trembling hands. Scruffy sensed someone needed some loving and jumped up her legs; there is no better boost for morale’s than dog kisses accompanied by a wagging tail, which on Scruffy extended all the way from rear to tongue.

“Ow!” Missy moaned, pushing Scruffy away.

Cindy looked as startled as I did, Scruffy, weighing all of 10 pounds after a shampoo, couldn’t bruise a flea, which is why we kept him flea free (try saying that ten times in a row!)

“What’s the matter, Missy?” I asked coming into the living room.

“Oh it’s nothing. I just have a sore spot from gym yesterday.”

“Well, let me have a look see,” I volunteered my nursing services often.

“No, that’s okay.” Was said way to slow for me as I already had Missy’s pant legs up to knee level. Gasp. Gasp. Double gasp.“This happened in gym! What were you doing rock climbing” I asked examining a very bruised, very angry looking shin. I suddenly had a perturbing thought; Missy was completely concealed with clothes, long sleeves, long pant legs topped off with a turtle neck t-shirt. This was July for God’s sake.

“Missy, I want to see your arms.” I said, gently. There was going to be resistance, but I was going to be a tough wall to beat against.

Missy surprised me, she rolled her sleeves up. Gasp. Gasp. Why was I shocked, I knew what I was going to see. Cuts, scrapes, bruises; not all from the same gym class either. Some were almost healed, some were newly acquired.

“I think I’ll give your gym teacher a call,” I said knowing what the response would be.

“That’s not necessary, mom took care of that.” A lie if ever I heard one. I’m a mother of a teenager, I can spot lies from the first word out.

“Missy,” I pulled out my most understanding voice and expression, “is someone hurting you?”

Missy’s eyes started to glitter, snot started to drip from her nose, her shoulders began shaking, “Mark and I horse around a lot, and I’m just not good at horse play yet.”

“This isn’t horse play, Missy, this is abuse, I want to take you home and talk to your parents about this so we can stop this.”

Missy’s eyes opened wide. That was the wrong thing to say.

“Missy, your parents need to know. Let’s go.” Cindy was awestruck, she had never seen this side of life up close and personal.

I got Missy to her house, but not like feeling as though I was taking her to death row or feeling like I was the criminal here. Missy and Cindy stayed behind in the car as I marched up the driveway past a car with a crumbled passenger door, to the back door where Missy’s father answered my knocking, if you call opening the door to the limit of the chain lock, answering the door. I tried to convince the half of a face I could see that I needed to speak with him and his wife but he insisted she was busy elsewhere in the house and he could manage whatever concerned me without his wife, however I could hear someone in the kitchen behind the door…..sobbing I think. Something was wrong on the other side of this door.

“Mrs. Melville, is that you!” I hollered through the partial opening before the door was slammed in my face. I can take a hint. I can take a hint and ignore it just as well. I started pounding on the wooden structure; I mean pounding; curtains separated on neighboring windows, cars slowed in passing, kids stopped riding their bikes. In other words I was being noticed and bringing attention to this house.


An elderly neighbor stepped out on her porch next door and explained that she had seen the couple fighting in the drive way earlier over the dented vehicle. Mr. Melville had been livid and relentless in his verbal abuse to his wife. “Just horrible. Just horrible.” She proclaimed. “That poor thing was crying and shaking, and then he dragged her inside. Lord knows what happened in there! She’s come out of that house bruised so often I don’t know what her natural skin color is. Just horrible.” The lady clicked her loose dentures in disgust.

After that revelation I returned to door pounding,“Mr. Melville, open this door right now or I’ll call the police!”

“Just send Missy in, we’ll take care of whatever her problem is from here.” Came the only response from behind the door.

I don’t think so. No, I don’t think so at all. I wasn’t stupid, contrary to popular opinion, even though kidnapping is still a federal offence, being an accomplice to injustice is off my personal agenda. I didn’t move, feeling some inner strength.

“I’m not leaving till I see your wife. Mrs. Melville! Answer me, are you alright?”

I heard some scuffling, some groaning, and some sobbing in the space beyond my reach.

“Cindy, call 911!” I yelled from the porch. Cindy already had her phone in hand, (of course, probably texting friends about me making a public scene.)

“If you call the police, I’ll give my wife more what for when I get out like I do every time and it’ll be on your conscience!”

That did it, I was really enraged now. I had adrenalin pumping out of every pore as I reared back and side kicked the door. Nothing. How foolish of me to think I was karate momma! I heard chuckling from Mr. Melville. Oh boy, I wonder how many neighbors saw that! Well why not go for the gusto! I cranked my leg in and sent it flying one more………….crack! The door mechanism snapped (a little too easy, I thought) and I went flying off balance into a very messy kitchen landing on my belly. That’s not the way it happens in the movies.

There was Mrs. Melville, cowering in the corner, battered and beaten, the fire gone from her eyes and Mr. Melville, with fire in his eyes, was coming at me with serious intentions.

“Listen, you can hit me if you want, but let me tell you, I’m not your wife and I will press charges, and they will stick!” I threatened, rising to thwart the oncoming blows, one of which landed on my shoulder; I was so infuriated I wouldn’t feel any pain till tomorrow. I side stepped another flying fist and grabbed a kitchen chair, swinging it up and down. Bingo; dead center of his back. He collapsed onto the floor as sirens wailed into the driveway.

Two officers ran in and cuffed Mr. Macho female beater and read him his Miranda rights while I held Mrs. Melville in my arms, just letting her cry. Missy ran in and joined the huddle followed by Cindy who I almost didn’t recognize without her cell phone. Missy and her mom received counseling from a female officer who had arrived about a woman’s haven in the area that would help them, mother and daughter, get on their feet. I told them once they were steady and ready to face the world again; my home was open to them. We had lots of room; they wouldn’t be the first strays I brought home. Back at home Cindy flung herself into her dad’s sweaty arms, he had just finished mowing the yard and reapplying the tail light and stunk to high heaven with body aromas that should never be bottled and sold for anything except biochemical warfare.

“Gee, dad, I’m so glad you’re my dad! I for one don’t think I’ll go wrong marrying a guy like the one dear old mom married!” Greg looked over Cindy’s head to me. I signaled I’d explain it to him latter, I didn’t want him yelling at me about how unwise I’d been going to Missy’s house by myself. He may get angry with me, but he’d never ever dream of hurting Cindy or me, for one thing I knew karate, and other helpful words. Inwardly I sent a prayer of gratitude heavenward to the God that helped some wounded people today.

Meanwhile, two angels, wings folded across their chests, legs crossed, who were sitting on the divan in Cindy’s living room discussed the day.

“They just don’t make door locks like they used to” Angel number one said, pulling splinters
from his feet.
“No, thank heavens; these modern ones are easier to break!” angel number two laughed.

“Hey, Why did you let Cindy’s mom fall on her stomach and take that blow to the shoulder”

“You don’t think I wanted her getting all super hero on me did you. My job is hard enough just keeping her alive when she drives!”

With that the two guardian angels took flight and went home for the night content that they had led Missy and her mother to the right family for guidance and comfort, proving that once again, all things work together for good to those who love God.

Tuesday, April 7, 2009

easter madness


we glided smoothly down onto the runway. Real smooth, not a bump, tremor or vibration, no wind shear. It was dark, real dark but our night vision goggles were high quality, the first set off the factory floor. Our boss was a genius at creating inventions to bring light into the darkness, shame he hadn't gotten copy rights for any of his contraptions, he'd be rich..er...richer.
 

"I told you we would be too early," my companion groused, looking at the star filled sky. Daybreak was hours away. “We might be early but things don’t look quite kosher,” he added as he analyzed the vicinity.
 

"Hey, let’s prowl around for a few hours. We're two bachelors, foot loose and fancy free. Let's do some sightseeing!" I implored.  

"No way, we're here on a mission and I don't want you to lose focus. You know how you can be." Mike said, sitting down on a brick wall. He had our target in sight and being the serious all work no play dude he was, he wasn't about to get back up, or back down. “Plus, I’m still not sure things are adding up right,” he added as he looked about our surroundings. 

Oh man, what a drag. We don't get to town very often and I wasn't about to let this free time go to waste.  

"Well, you can sit there and grow more feathers if you want, I'm out of here." I said.  

About that time something skipped by.  Something really odd, so odd it even snagged Mike's attention.


"Tell me you saw that. No, don't; I'm not sure I want to know I saw that!" Mike explained as he squinted off into the darkness.  

But yes, I did see it. And yes, I was going to follow it. I picked up my feet and made them work; I was a little out of practice using my legs as I normally flew mostly everywhere I went.  

"I told you I wanted to do some sightseeing, and man, that was some sight to see." Mike was close on my heels, abandoning his station. Who's losing focus now? 

As we followed our quarry through a residential area we noticed houses decorated with big plastic eggs, rabbits, and ribbons all in pretty pastels. Quarry cut through a business zone where we lost him in a crowd of parents and kids standing in line in front of a Confectioners’ store that had some joker dressed up in a bunny suit with a crowd of kids yammering to sit on his lap. A big pink bunny suit on a—was that a grown, mature man? He ought to be ashamed of himself. I'd have to have been hypnotized to dress like that; or in full blown Alzheimer’s (at least in public, I do own the cutest, fuzziest bunny slippers that I wear for leisure, but I digress.) The Bunny was sitting on a candy throne surrounded by candy decorations, candy dishes, candy bags, and mobs of sugar junkies, having his picture taken for posterity with the kids, one by one as the parents stood by watching and laughing. What a way to make a living. The extraordinary sized bunny had a bow tie, a straw hat complete with brilliant spring flowers, long floppy ears and two of the biggest front teeth I’ve ever seen. Those weapons would have kept me from wanting to sit in his lap let alone be on the same planet as him.  

Oh, there he went; our target. We jump started ourselves onto the trail again: running as fast as we could Quarry still stayed way ahead. This fellow should try out for the Olympics; the Special Olympics, because he certainly was special.  The oddity we followed went from house to house peeking in windows till he popped into one causing us to brake to a halt. Actually I braked, Mike crashed into me, that’s what he gets for being so close.  This guy had broken in. As we peered in the window we watched him place something big and colorful on a night stand before he jumped out another opening.  He was sure a fast little character; we were out of breath chasing him. I know I wanted to see the town, but now I hope we'll be able to find our original destination on time.       

Mike continued the pursuit while I flitted into the bedroom to see what was left behind making myself equally guilty of entering a domicile illegally. I discovered I was in a little child’s nursery; an occupied nursery.  In the bed was a cute little peacefully slumbering brunette cherub, with rosy pink cheeks and naturally red lips, pursed into a cute little O. She couldn't have been older than six. Oh, she appeared so precious and innocent. A distinctive blessing from God.

I picked up the basket that had been left on her nightstand and examined the contents. Loads of chocolate candy shaped like bunnies, marshmallow eggs, M&M's. Sugar overload, coupled with stuffed animals, coloring books and a bubble gun.  Oh, I love these, I thought as I picked up a small bottle.  You use soap and a little round wand and blow bubbles that catch the sunlight all over the room and make miniature rainbows. I was essentially toying with the idea of blowing a few suds before leaving but I got that feeling; you know the feeling where someone is watching you. I carefully looked over to the bed and, yep, Cherub had her big brown eyes trained on me. I was terrified that she would scream for mommy seeing big ole me standing in her room, holding her little basket.  

Those eyes pierced me through. She sat slowly up in her little training bed, wearing her flannel Little Mermaid nightie and swung her legs over the side. She was going to run screaming for mommy. This was awful, No one was to know we were in town yet.  

Those big brown waiflike peepers stayed fixed on me as her adorable little mouth moved. Out came the words, “Put the basket down and back off before I call for the police.” She held up a pink cell phone for emphasis.   

Huh. Not a problem; let me tell you the shock factor works. I knew beyond a doubt I could take her but her unexpected bravado, not the least bit faked by the way, scared me. I flew out the way I came in without a second’s hesitation but a little surprised at the technology; I hadn’t expected cell phones to be on the scene quite so early. I really should have paid more attention in history class.

 Outside on the street Mike was coming back towards me, looking concerned; a current newspaper in his hand. “Now I’m positive we’re late not early. We over shot our mark by I’d say—two millennia, give or take a decade or two, not to mention a few thousand miles off course.” Mike stated as he pointed to the date and current American city in the upper right hand corner.  

“We need to get back and make some adjustments before we blow everything.” Mike said as he nodded to the sky. Over in the east golden rays were punching into the darkness. Dawn of the first day of the week; apparently of the wrong week, the wrong century, the wrong millennia,the wrong continent, was breaking. 

With a hearty flourish of our wings we accelerated our speed to race backwards in time as we retraced our way back to the stone cave that was our proper rendezvous.


Upon on arrival we walked up to the two sentries who stood guard to introduce ourselves but they took one look at us and went catatonic; mentally AWOL. I waved my hands in their faces. Nothing. What was wrong with them? The night will someday be filled with bunnies hopping around breaking into homes delivering saran wrapped baskets crammed with eggs and candy and the sight of us put trained military men into a trance. What is this world coming too? Or should I say, what’s coming to the world? 

 Oh, I just couldn’t resist, the imp in me battled with the angel in me, (guess which one won.) I filled my cheeks with air and—phffff. …One big breath and they fell backwards like tin soldiers; they ought to be grateful I hadn’t eaten onions tonight. A giggle caught in my throat and brought tears to my eyes before Mike nudged my shoulder, not the least bit impressed with my shenanigans, he reminded me of our mission. Can’t a guy have fun at his job?   

An explosive light flashed inside the brick building. No sound, just a blinding bright light; oh yeah, and a small earthquake. It was the power surge that was our cue to roll the enormous stone away that blocked the entrance, or exit. 

Together we pushed rolled the stone away singing in unison, "Rise and shine, Room service."  

There He stood, in the middle of the mausoleum He had been placed in by a local rich politician. Wow, we whistled.  The rich really know how to die, I thought, as I examined the elaborate confines of the crypt. Like I said earlier, He stood in the center in all his radiance and glory. He had survived three days, pulse less, without decay or any other of the terrible side effects of decomposition. He had conquered death.


Mike and I slapped Him on his back and embraced him joyfully. He had been gone from his heavenly kingdom for thirty three earth years, a total of thirty three seconds in our dimension; still we exuberantly celebrated our reunion.  

He looked around the deserted graveyard, mystified, and asked the question we dreaded to hear. "Where is everyone?" By everyone he had referred to His disciples, the very ones he had detailed His death and resurrection to for three long years. He had also referred to His followers and all those He had died for (which is the population of the whole earth). He had hoped that someone would be on hand to greet Him in His return from death, after all, that was something even the great Houdini would fail to accomplish. (Don’t know who that was? look him up.)

 In a futile attempt to skirt the issue, I leaned over to fold His death robe; a robe emblazoned with His very image, a perfect match to His likeness. I wouldn't be surprised if some entrepreneur would mass produce the image on coffee cups and t-shirts someday.  

 I left it to Mike to explain, eager to see if he would add in his explanation that the Lamb of God would someday be replaced by a cute fuzzy bunny that snuck into houses delivering chocolate eggs and candy and about his crony, a bigger pink bunny on steroids with radically bad teeth.  

Mike sighed; relieved, when he heard the voices of two women as they approached with jars of burial spices. We were going to be temporarily spared the inevitable explanation that the world was going to someday celebrate Easter instead of His resurrection.