Parents, Whitewater, Balloons, Ducks, Methodists, & Free Gifts

They're gone. No major breakdowns on my part, no major political tirades from my dad (or me), no crying episodes upon departure (mostly because next weekend is The Goose's party and they'll probably be back -- unless my aunt goes out of town and then in that case they'll stay to take care of Pappaw). So anyway, it was good and that's always a relief because there is potential for DISASTROUS family interactions every time we meet.

Husband is away this weekend doing Swiftwater Rescue Training. The state pays for him to go to the Ocoee River in east Tennessee where all the trainees practice saving each other by willingly jumping into gigantic rapids. Before we moved to Arizona, when we were living here the first time, we took a rafting trip down this same river.

Now don't get me wrong, I am not all that scared of water (except the ocean, which my mama said would suck me out to Cuba), but this is where the Olympic whitewater team trains and I had on open-toed shoes and you have to lodge your foot up under the seat of the person in front of you and and if you do this while wearing open-toed shoes then the seat in front of you will rip off your toenail but if you don't then you will fall out into the rapids and likely DIE from getting bashed against a rock. And do you see that man on the back of our raft? He was scaring the everloving shit out of me. We got in the raft, practiced a little and he said, "That's not good enough!!!" and then pushed us off into the water. Then he continued to narrate the whole trip ... "That there's Big Mama Rock -- she's killed 97 % of the people who've floated down this river. And the next one coming up is where my cousin Norma Rae got her head bashed up. Looked like she had run headfirst into a barbed wire ball, fought a good fight, and then lost."

That's me with the sunglasses in the middle row on the right. Also in there from left to right starting in the back are my friends Hot Frenchy & DP, then beside me is Ayurvedic Ann. In front is Ann's husband Real Estate Dave and, of course, Husband. Look at Hot Frenchy (AKA wannabedean) and Ann: they are actually SMILING. If you blow up the picture and examine my face, you will see big, real Tears of Terror making their trek down into the Ocoee.

I will never, ever, ever do that again. But if I do, I will definitely wear an old pair of tennis shoes instead of my $85 Chacos, which I should've gotten in a fun, bright-color instead of black, but I am boring sometimes and make bad decisions because black matches everything. You don't need your Chacos to match everything. Nobody cares whether you match when you're hurling yourself down a river in an inflatable device with nothing but a flimsy piece of plastic protecting your brain.

And another thing that guide did that really annoyed me was that everytime we made it through a rapid successfully, he would yell, "Everybody high-five!" which meant that we were supposed to hold up our paddles and slap them in the air above the raft. I never once participated in that bullshit. I was too busy mourning the loss of my toenail and life as we knew it.

So anyway, Husband is there ENJOYING this and called last night to report that all was going well and that he was learning a lot and that next time a hurricane hits he will likely be headed down to rescue people on account of his new skills.

TRANSITION???

The Goose scored big on his birthday even though we told people not to send gifts. His favorite so far is a friggin' 99 cent balloon with Thomas the Tank Engine on it even though there are all manner of bright plastic toys with speakers and buttons and annoying, really loud voices screeching out off-key songs. I hate loud, plastic toys, but if you sent one then we sincerely thank you from the bottom of our hearts because we know that not everyone is as lucky as we are.

TRANSITION???

They still have not found that owl but two white ducks have shown up on the lake. Husband suspects that they escaped from the Greek Festival at the Orthodox Church up the road. The rangers have all taken turns going out into the lake wearing waders to attempt to rid the natural area of these damn domesticated ducks. Have you ever seen someone in waders in a lake full of leeches trying to trap two white ducks in a net? Funny, funny stuff.

ION ...

This morning I tried another church. I'm in the process of looking for a church because that's the way I grew up and I like the ritual of church even if I don't believe a lot of the things I was taught to believe as a child. So today I went to a Methodist church near our house and it was relatively uneventful except for the passing of the visitor sign-in book. The woman beside me, Petunia, who must've been old as Methuselah, had on a lovely purple dress with gold sequined belt and hat and at first I thought I had found a soul sister because, apparently, she too likes Almay's i-color series! However, I think she had attempted to apply ALL the colors at once. So anyway, I signed the book and passed it on to her and then she passed it back and the man to my left, who was on the end of the pew, just stuck it down behind the hymnal. On we go with the service.

Then, in the middle of "You Don't Need a Phone to Call Jesus (and you'll never get a busy signal if you do)" by the Seraphim Choir of middle school girls wearing jeans and white t-shirts (except for one poorly-informed, little pink-clad thing), Purple Petunia decided that it was appropriate to tell me to tell the man next to me to please put the book "up where they can come by and get it." Now, would you know what that meant? I was raised in church, people, I understand the lingo ... I can recite all the books of the Bible OT and NT and I can find any Bible verse in less than 10 seconds due to my Bible Drill training in 4th-6th grades. I was the state champion in Bible Drill during my 6th grade year and if you quote a famous Bible excerpt I can likely tell you what book, chapter, and verse it came from even though I haven't attended church regularly in about 10 years. But I was clueless about this one.

She just kept saying, "Tell him to stick it up where they can come by and get it." I didn't know what to do, he didn't know what to do, and she was being really loud and parents of the members of the Seraphim Choir were starting to turn around and give us dirty looks. Finally I just grabbed the book and handed it to her, hoping that she could just do whatever needed to be done. But lord have mercy that was the worst idea I have ever had. She then stood up and started pointing to the end of the pew and saying, "Look, look how the other people have got there's up where they can come by and get it." But I still didn't understand because I couldn't see any other books. Finally the person in front of us grabbed the book and saved the day by placing it in its rightful place on the edge of the pew. The choir finished their song, AMENS were muttered all around, and PHEW! the deacons got the sign-in book. I thought it had passed.

After the service, after the holding of hands and swaying back and forth and singing of "Let There Be Peace on Earth," she caught my arm and said, "I'm so sorry you didn't understand ... I didn't know how else to say it." Then she turned around to the man behind her and said, "Billy, how would you have told her what to do? I didn't know how to say it!" Billy and I both tried to ignore her and move on but by now she had moved over in the pew in front of my purse (I had shifted down during the hand-holding event and as a result was at least four feet from my personal belongings) and she was holding onto both me and Billy trying to figure out what went wrong. Then the preacher saw me.

Now, not to brag, but I am PRIME scarfing up material for any good Bible Belt church. Not only am I well-versed in evangelical theology, but also I can sing and play the piano, I have a relatively stable family life, and, let's face it, I am capable of cleaning myself up to look cute and bubbly and conservative. Whenever I visit a church I have to BOLT and RUN to keep from being accosted by all manner of preachers and deacons and welcome committees and blue-haired women wearing peacock brooches. Petunia had ruined my escape plan.

"Are you new to the area?" the minister says.

"Oh, yeah ... I mean, uh, we've been here for almost a year now but we used to live here before and then I went to grad school in Arizona and then I got pregnant ... I mean, I was married and all, I mean, I'm still married, and then we were homeless and jobless for a while but finally got a job back here after living with relatives and having the baby up in Wisconsin and being on Medicaid and so yes, now we live here and thanks for having me but I've got visitors in town and need to get back home to fix lunch, but I loved your sermon on being in the boat with Jesus! See you next week!"

Eloquence and composure just drip offa me like water from a freshly dunked convert in the baptismal tub. I made a dash for my car and screeched out of the parking lot before I gave away any other Kimmy secrets ... these people know how to ask all the right questions and they can figure out that you can play the piano without even bringing up the subject of music. They are sneaky sneaky sneaky, these people.

Next week: a Methodist church near a local university where there might be an academic or two in the congregation who may appreciate or even share my concern about historical inaccuracies and missionary work. I'll keep you posted, as always.

Until then, remember that you don't need a phone to call Jesus, he answers knee-mail instead.

And p.s. don't go anywhere near Dillard's because lord help us all they have got a free gift at the Estee Lauder counter and they take credit cards.

And p.p.s. "free gift" is redundant and anyway the gift is not really free.