Possumblog

Oh, you knew I’d make it.

I’m big on exaggeration, you know.

The shindig went off without a hitch. The food showed up where it was supposed to, when it was supposed to, the guests all came and had what sounded like a great time, the kids were relatively well-behaved (especially considering what they’ve been known to do), and Grandmom and Pop seemed to have thoroughly enjoyed seeing everyone.

Worst familial faux pas? (This is aside from one of the honorees calling and bothering everyone on the guest list.)

I would say it was probably early on, after Jonathan had gone through the buffet line (the first time) and had gotten a stuffed mushroom. I thought they were very tasty, although they were a bit on the tepid-ish side before the steam tray with the Sterno underneath got really good and hot, but otherwise, pretty darned good. Anyway, Boy had gotten his plate full of goodies (and a stuffed mushroom) and come over to the table where I was standing and plopped down. The table was occupied by about six other older folks, including one very nice lady I did not know, but who seemed to know me.

“Son, aren’t you going to eat that?!”

“It tastes weird!”

“Oh, come on! It’s good!”

“No, it’s not--it tastes gross!”

“Jonathan, it’s just a stuffed mushroom.”

“I KNOW, Dad! It nearly made me PUKE!”

::sigh::

Quickly gathered him up and took him over to the corner and explained that in semi-polite company, one does not scream out that the food is liable to cause puking, and, in fact, one should not use the word “puke” in the company of ladies and gentlemen, especially when using our outside voice. (I prefer a quietly uttered “spew chunks,” but I realize this is but one alternative.)

And then there toward the end, Catherine pulled off her shoes and spent a goodly portion of time running around showing people she had no shoes on.

::sigh::

Overall, though, I’d have to give it good marks. Probably had a bit more than a hundred there, and they came early and stayed late. Luckily, the caterer started breaking things down promptly at 8:30 (it started at 6:30--weird hours, I know) which tended to chase everyone out. Got to take home a goodly amount of food, too, which has been nice to have the past couple of days. Had a bunch of little biscuits with cheese and roast beef and ham, which have been quite handy for breakfast. And lunch.

The only drawback was that I had to get out the tiny rechargeable carpet sweeper to gather up some crumbs. I hate to vacuum. And I was kind of thinking the caterer was supposed to have gotten that. I suppose not, eh? Thankfully, it wasn’t much, and then we got to go home.

Up late Saturday, woken by Grandmom wanting to know if we were awake yet. “Uhm ::hack:: yesma’amRebais.” Blech.

Laundry out the wazoo, so that was most of Saturday. Reba took the girls off to spend money sometime in there, which seems to becoming a regular occurrence on Saturdays. They came back with groceries, and a bunch of plants for me to do something with, which means they’ll probably still be sitting in exactly the same place next spring. Some people seem to think that I have spare time to go plant things. And build a fence. And add a room onto the house. Hard to do that when one is also required to do laundry. And when I can’t even get the taxes done. Not that I’m complaining, mind you. Heaven forbid! I’d NEVER do that. But, dangitall, I’ll get to the plants when I can, and not a moment sooner. Because not only did I have all that to do, I also had a bunch of work I brought home with me to get done, because I was off Friday, and this week I’ve got to pour on the coal and get some drawings done. Which wouldn’t be quite so bad except, well, I don’t work well with others, and this requires others.

I have my own way about me when it comes to drawing. I don’t like people getting in the way, and I don’t like people asking me questions about obvious things. Oh well.

Anyway, Sunday was our usual churching-up, with the added excitement of Bible Bowl that afternoon. Tried to find some time before or after to get Jonathan a haircut, but it was not to be. He’s looking a bit too much like one of those groovy lads from Liverpool, circa 1963. It’s actually sorta cute, in a raffish sort of way, but he looks better when he’s not quite so raffish. Maybe we can visit the sheep shearer sometime Monday afternoon after work, but before Jack Bauer Time. We’ll see.

As for Bible Bowl, we had to leave early before it finished (and it ran WAY too long due to "technical difficulties," to be charitable) so we could get back to our church building for Reba to have a meeting with some of the kids.

Sat around and waited for a bit since we were a bit early for the meeting, when suddenly the back door came open and a lumpy red-haired woman came briskly striding in. She looked like she knew exactly where she was going, and as if she just belonged there.

Hmm.

“Ma’am, can we help you?”

I came out from inside the kitchen as she was charging by which caught her up short. She limped a bit and came over to me--“I sure hope so. I’m from Brookwood, and we’re trying to get back home and I my brother and me, we’re about out of gas, and I ain’t got a bit of money on me and I ain’t got nobody at home I can call to come get us and maybe someone could go with us over to the gas station and --”

::sigh::

No, I didn’t believe her--everything about it was just all wrong. If you’re really asking for a handout, you don’t just come charging through like you own the place. We call them circuit riders--they make their living going around to churches mooching, and occasionally sneaking in when no one’s looking and helping themselves to what they can run out with. I asked Reba if she had five dollars (since I was flat broke) and I gave it to the woman more or less just to get rid of her as fast as I could. It’s impossible to tell what she might have had planned, or if she was armed, or if she had someone outside ready to come in and help out. And I certainly wasn’t about to go to the gas station with them. A dollar or two would only encourage her to try to bargain for more, but five seems to be enough to get folks like this on their way.

“Thank y’all so much--we really do appreciate it. Oh, hey--by the way--could you give me a cup of water? I’m just real hot and all.”

Oh, you betcha. Made her a cup full of ice water and sent her on her way. After she got out the door, I walked around to the front lobby and watched her and some man drive off in a late model Explorer. Wearing Jefferson County plates--Brookwood’s in Tuscaloosa County. And rather than turning toward the interstate, they went back toward downtown Leeds.

Well, cast your bread upon the waters, I suppose. Maybe they’ll get tired of panhandling and get actual jobs.

I’m an optimist, you know.

A bit later, the folks finally showed up for Reba’s meeting and as usual, Catherine was not interested in listening and being still, so I took her outside and we flew paper airplanes, which she enjoyed with an enjoyment that’s hard to put into words. Like a wild pony. Or a rabid squirrel. She’s a handful, no matter what. But enjoys running after the wind.

We played for a long time and then walked around the building and looked at trees and birds and stuff, then went and sat down inside on the big leather couch in the foyer for about five minutes, which was interrupted by my being sent to the store for a small notebook so Oldest could take notes.

Why just a sheet of paper wouldn’t do, I don’t know. I’m just glad she’s stopped falling asleep during church and snoring.

Home, supper, baths, bedtime, then time for me to finish those minutes, and time to tap out a few words before bedtime for me.

Posted by Terry Oglesby at March 12, 2006 11:57 PM