Saturday Aimless

It has been over two weeks since Mo changed the masthead to include my fake name and in recognition of this kindness I now see fit to type this, my first post. Thank you very much.

In my defence, I was at work, weekends, evenings, and the like. Apparently many lawyers do this all the time. Who knew? I am reconsidering my decision to leave house painting behind. Except that's harder.

We went to a wedding today, a friend I have not seen for over two years when last I played with the band with which I was at one time familiar enough to refer to as "the band". I don't know the protocol in these situations, but when the wedding invitation arrived, the prospect of a free meal was more than I could resist. To hell with decency. I know I didn't call, but I want roast beeef!

We left the kids with my dad and his wife and went to a Lutheran church on Holy Hill. Funny pastor, lovely ceremony. I was tearful at one point. Chili fart or homily, I am not saying which.

I was tearful this morning too as I drove home in a rush, completely disorganised, and ran into a car while parking. Not only did I fail to mirror effective parallel parking behaviour to my son, I failed to keep a stiff upper lip as I drove to connect with Mo on the return trip. On the bad side, I have caused a fair bit of damage to Mo's van. On the bright side, there was nobody in the car I hit and the victim of my driving crime, who also witnessed the accident, does not want to get ICBC involved.*

My mood improved when I attended a local barber and, for $10, got a ten minute haircut. I look like a standard poodle on acid. Or what a standard poodle looks like, when the viewer is on acid. And the poodle. Everyone is on acid. My hair, my hair is so high the Grateful Dead sounds good. Try a strand.

Then the wedding, boo hoo hoo, beauty, love, and so on then home to exchange sets of grandparents for the evening shift which was the reception at which my old band is now playing the many songs I grew to despise deeply. The bride's dad, an older Germanic type, gave speech so lucid, thoughtful, and beautiful I wanted him to adopt me so I could marry Mo all over again. Most of the speeches were similar to his - leading with laughter, following with tears, and a chaser of something meaningful, or lovely, or life-affirming. Fuck me, I felt all emotional in spite of myself. It was awful. What a great time. I like weddings.

p-man

* I hit my car.