She heard his voice through the bathroom wall they shared. She couldn't make out what he was saying. Sometimes, even after all these years, she still had a difficult time understanding her first born.
He repeated himself more slowly when she leaned against his bathroom doorway and he had taken the toothbrush from his mouth. "Will this get me a real job?", he repeted. The yearning sound to his voice echoed back the memory of the little tow haired boy hanging on the side of the pool she had bought him for his exercises. She had found a cheap little medallion at Walmart and had presented it to him for his swimming efforts. It was the first time he had been given an award and was delighted, but all too soon realized it was not real. "Will this help me to get a real metal?", her cherub had asked with the same longing.
The doctors had labeled him with those ugly words she did not want to hear. She would never limit him to them. But yet she had no answer ready for him then, and she didn't have one now. She had no idea how he would ever win a genuine trophy. And now he wanted a job more than anything.
He had been awarded his own real metal alright. On his own. And if it had been left up to her, he never would have gotten it.
She thought of the countless doctor visits to the children's hospital, and all the painful tests and surgeries he had gone through. The nights she would sit outside his bedroom door and listen to him toss around in his bed, vieing to find a comfortable position for his heavy legs to rest, waiting for the sound of velcro as he finally removed his casts to sleep. She would steal in a half hour later, when he was asleep and put them back on his legs and hope they would grow straight and strong as he slept. When the specialists recommended intensified therapy, she had put her own foot down and said no more.
He wasn't wearing his casts when he had listened outside her bedroom in the middle of the night and phoned the emergency unit and he didn't wear his braces when he unlocked the doors before he lead the EMT's to where she lay unconsciously convulsing on her bedroom floor. Without his braces, he had kept his baby brother from throwing himself on top of her, when the paramedic couldn't find her veins. He had even hid the Teddy bear the police officer had tried to distract the baby with, unknowing to the fact that stuffed animals terrified the youngest member of the family. He did even let the dogs bite the lewd officer who just stood watching the naked lady grand mal in front of her terrified kids.
He did however lean on his crutches when he received his heroism award,given to him by the chief of police in front of the entire school. When the news camera showed his spiderman brace, he was down right mad.
That night in the church the young man had worked non stop as he stood in one spot doing the dirty job of separating and scraping plates into the garbage before passing them across to Mrs. Krentz, his old third grade teacher to wash. It was the same mean old bitter woman that had ignored him and pretended he did not exist in her class room and had humiliated and antagonized his little brother. There had been a time when the mother would of gladly killed the old bitty, before she had realized the teacher had died long before, her souless shell just too lazy to fall over. The teenager had just pretended the corpse loading the dish machine to be invisible and had worked much faster than she so he could build a wall of china between them.
She wanted to tell him yes, you will get a job someday. And it will be a hell of a lot better than washing dishes. But she did not have the answer he wanted to hear yet.
"Have a nice time tonight with Mrs. Krentz?", she asked him instead.
"I tried to get her to shake my dirty food covered hand but she wouldn't, just like I planned", he said with a gleam in his eye.
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
Last Date Ever, The Continuum
She cried all the way back to the church where the other were all ready busy. Partly the tears were for what she was feeling and partly due to the violet rose he had given her, the one that lay on the front seat next to her. She was allergic and would have thoughtlessly tossed it out the window, but he might ask about it later. He knew she would have preferred a red flower, but it was not in him to jousle the other boys in Mrs. Vallene's fifth grade class for one. He was after all, a gentle men. He had the manners test with a passing score that had enabled him, his date, and his mother, to attend the formal luncheon.
Her face was dry by the time she wound her way through the maze of corridor's in the church's addition toward the source of the fish smell emanating from the back. Out of the black dress and into an apron she changed. The heart of the church was busling with activity and she jumped right in to the white haired foam sea of Lutherns. When she had called to volunteer at the Swedish museum's fundraising lutifisk feed, she had expected a plating of maybe one hundred, tops. Not the six hundred they were expecting. But she had help. At any given time she had ten church ladies, and a handful of guys, most who had been cooking longer than her and her son had been alive, at her disposal. She could taste the excitement in the air, as she rolled the meatballs and listened to her crew chatter. The girls were excited, the naughty bads were late.
The naughty bads where the volunteers who did not want to volunteer, but the state demanded social service time from them for there wrong doing. The naughty bads would bring an excited gleam to the old girls eyes, as with them they brought danger into the basement.
When the county bus arrived, bringing a melting pot of flavor into the kitchen of rice pudding, things happened. The ladies grouped closer together around the wash tub of ground meat they were forming into meat balls, purses now cluthched at their elbows. Talk turned from guessing what the crimes of the soon be be help were to the weather. Sharp knives were hidden. Curious glances behind cataracts where stolden.
The non volunteer volunteers were to do the dirty work. The sweet women turned into dictator's. Pots were saved as a penance to scrub. (See that tape there on the bottom? That's my name. Sylvia Swenson. Make sure that kettle gets back to me.) Garbage hauled. (Out to the back dumpster. But don't smoke back there. We had a fire last year.) Potatoes and rutabagas to be peeled. (No, I'm sorry honey. That's the only peeler we have. Dull old thing.) Extention cords unwound and heavy tabled to be set up. (Not too many plugs into one outlet ok?)
Thing were running smoothly, too smoothly up to coffee time. When it was decided they had all earned a break and a cup of coffee, the crew broke out the one secret tradition she was unaware of. Dark hour. Brewing the coffee would blow the fuse. Blowing the fuse would cut the lights in the kitchen and shut down all food production. The non vol's naughty bads would be at the church girls mercy. The girls would seize this time, and a hot cup of coffee to minister to their captive audience.
"Yes I do attend a church Sylvia, just not this one", she told her eager new old friend. "May I have my purse back now? No it is mine there on your arm. Feel inside, you'll find my cell. I need to call my boys."
She felt around the dish shelves to the back area where the only small window was for better phone reception while she made her calls. The volume of her phone was drowned out by a loud and constant crunching sound. It came from the area she had left the young non vol perched on a stool to peel the bin of potatoes. The volunteer was eating the raw potatoes like apples in the dark. She backed away and stood by self in silence and just listened to the multitude of conversations occuring around her.
She, herself had eating a number of potato and bread sandwiches for a meal during her salad years but had never been so hungary as to eat an uncooked potato.
Miraclusly, the power was turn on in time to throw the food in the oven, and dinner was to be served on time.
"Excuse me", she told the nappy haired young mother with the peeler by the window. Can you please help me cut the desersts in the other room?"
She wasn't supposed to feed the volunteers. But she knew spice cake beats a tuber.
Her sons finished up the cleaning.
They all needed each other.
Her face was dry by the time she wound her way through the maze of corridor's in the church's addition toward the source of the fish smell emanating from the back. Out of the black dress and into an apron she changed. The heart of the church was busling with activity and she jumped right in to the white haired foam sea of Lutherns. When she had called to volunteer at the Swedish museum's fundraising lutifisk feed, she had expected a plating of maybe one hundred, tops. Not the six hundred they were expecting. But she had help. At any given time she had ten church ladies, and a handful of guys, most who had been cooking longer than her and her son had been alive, at her disposal. She could taste the excitement in the air, as she rolled the meatballs and listened to her crew chatter. The girls were excited, the naughty bads were late.
The naughty bads where the volunteers who did not want to volunteer, but the state demanded social service time from them for there wrong doing. The naughty bads would bring an excited gleam to the old girls eyes, as with them they brought danger into the basement.
When the county bus arrived, bringing a melting pot of flavor into the kitchen of rice pudding, things happened. The ladies grouped closer together around the wash tub of ground meat they were forming into meat balls, purses now cluthched at their elbows. Talk turned from guessing what the crimes of the soon be be help were to the weather. Sharp knives were hidden. Curious glances behind cataracts where stolden.
The non volunteer volunteers were to do the dirty work. The sweet women turned into dictator's. Pots were saved as a penance to scrub. (See that tape there on the bottom? That's my name. Sylvia Swenson. Make sure that kettle gets back to me.) Garbage hauled. (Out to the back dumpster. But don't smoke back there. We had a fire last year.) Potatoes and rutabagas to be peeled. (No, I'm sorry honey. That's the only peeler we have. Dull old thing.) Extention cords unwound and heavy tabled to be set up. (Not too many plugs into one outlet ok?)
Thing were running smoothly, too smoothly up to coffee time. When it was decided they had all earned a break and a cup of coffee, the crew broke out the one secret tradition she was unaware of. Dark hour. Brewing the coffee would blow the fuse. Blowing the fuse would cut the lights in the kitchen and shut down all food production. The non vol's naughty bads would be at the church girls mercy. The girls would seize this time, and a hot cup of coffee to minister to their captive audience.
"Yes I do attend a church Sylvia, just not this one", she told her eager new old friend. "May I have my purse back now? No it is mine there on your arm. Feel inside, you'll find my cell. I need to call my boys."
She felt around the dish shelves to the back area where the only small window was for better phone reception while she made her calls. The volume of her phone was drowned out by a loud and constant crunching sound. It came from the area she had left the young non vol perched on a stool to peel the bin of potatoes. The volunteer was eating the raw potatoes like apples in the dark. She backed away and stood by self in silence and just listened to the multitude of conversations occuring around her.
She, herself had eating a number of potato and bread sandwiches for a meal during her salad years but had never been so hungary as to eat an uncooked potato.
Miraclusly, the power was turn on in time to throw the food in the oven, and dinner was to be served on time.
"Excuse me", she told the nappy haired young mother with the peeler by the window. Can you please help me cut the desersts in the other room?"
She wasn't supposed to feed the volunteers. But she knew spice cake beats a tuber.
Her sons finished up the cleaning.
They all needed each other.
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
Last Date Ever
She was not nervous until she realized how important the occasion was to him. "What will you be wearing?", he asked her as he knotted his tie. Her eyes regarded him in her mirror with approval as she stood applying her make up. She showed him her dress which he vetoed with a slight nod of his head. He chose for her the little black dress, too formal by her standards for day time, but she thought, ok, why not it would probably be their last date.
When she met him later at the train station, her eyes found his in the crowd immediately. Once catching her glance, he did not look her way again. There was protocol to be followed.
She was to walk past his business car to her own, to share her meal not with him, but with the other matrons. She was uncomfortable with the group of suburbalights who's inane chatter chatter was blander than the meal the harried wait staff served. She would much rather be up front with him. Or at least be a fly on his wall.
Before the trip was over, there would be time with him. After the coffee was served he strolled back to her table. "Hello", is all that he said. Then he leaned over and gave her the softest, sweetest kiss she had ever felt.
Alone in her car she cried with happiness.
When she met him later at the train station, her eyes found his in the crowd immediately. Once catching her glance, he did not look her way again. There was protocol to be followed.
She was to walk past his business car to her own, to share her meal not with him, but with the other matrons. She was uncomfortable with the group of suburbalights who's inane chatter chatter was blander than the meal the harried wait staff served. She would much rather be up front with him. Or at least be a fly on his wall.
Before the trip was over, there would be time with him. After the coffee was served he strolled back to her table. "Hello", is all that he said. Then he leaned over and gave her the softest, sweetest kiss she had ever felt.
Alone in her car she cried with happiness.
Friday, November 17, 2006
Mind Blowing Meat
She sat in the over stuffed chair and staredover her coffee cup at his sleeping form on the floor in front of her. He was still in the same spot she had left him last night in front of the fireplace. She coughed suddenly and tried to mask the sound, and keep the hot liquid she was drinking from exiting through her nose, not wanting to wake him, or the boy who was curled up next to the big man. She wasn't very successful, as she noticed him stir, his face twitch beneath the arm still flung over his eyes. "What day is it?", he asks her. "Wednesday", is her reply as she blows the tea out of her nose. "No, I meant what year?" She pauses, wondering if he is all right, asking such a ridiculous question. "Baby", he continues, "what you did last night..Man, you really know how to treat a man." "Meatloaf. It was just a meatloaf" , she said kicking him with her toe for his teasing. "Now get out of here. You'll be late for work." "But what a meat loaf, you really blew my mind."
He had surprised her by coming home the night before. The dinner she had cooked wasn't even intended for him. It was left over ground meat she found in the bottom of the fridge and had used up not once thinking of him. In fact, it was another guest she had planned the meal around. But she had been with this man now longer than she had been without him. And she took him for granted more than she ever even noticed him.
"Not going in to work today. I have another doctors appointment."
There was a time when she would have planned an elaborate meal for him. Or when she would great him at the door wearing nothing but a smile, there would be no food thought of at all, and they both would of woken up on the floor.
"What are you doing up so early anyway?", he asks. "You still have a couple more hours of dark to rest your eyes before Mr. Sun annoys you."
She does not want to tell him it is worry that keeps sleep from her now.
"My eyes just decided they like to be open now."
He had surprised her by coming home the night before. The dinner she had cooked wasn't even intended for him. It was left over ground meat she found in the bottom of the fridge and had used up not once thinking of him. In fact, it was another guest she had planned the meal around. But she had been with this man now longer than she had been without him. And she took him for granted more than she ever even noticed him.
"Not going in to work today. I have another doctors appointment."
There was a time when she would have planned an elaborate meal for him. Or when she would great him at the door wearing nothing but a smile, there would be no food thought of at all, and they both would of woken up on the floor.
"What are you doing up so early anyway?", he asks. "You still have a couple more hours of dark to rest your eyes before Mr. Sun annoys you."
She does not want to tell him it is worry that keeps sleep from her now.
"My eyes just decided they like to be open now."
Thursday, November 09, 2006
Votapooluza
Still riding the media wave from our recent elections, I've decided to turn this blog into a democracy and let you chose my next story with which to shock and awe you. I'll give you three choices for your reading entertainment. Rock the Munkay vote!
*Pearly White dilemma: The young girl sighed and blew the wisps of longish blond hair with frustration as she stood in the registrars office for the umptenth time. Deviously to her advantage they had changed the deadline for registration, she realized with renewed hope. The teeth in her new Marrimecco bag rattled softly as she swing it with ethusiasm over her shoulder after turning in the entrance essay for the dental program, and planned in her mind the current mosaic of Rush Limbaugh she is currently crafting. "I hope I get a bunch with a lot of sliver fillings for his hair", she wished out loud as she stepped back out onto the busy campus.
*Mind Blowing Meat: "Baby, he said his eyes still closed underneath the thick arm flung across his forehead, "what you did last night. Man you blew my mind." She looked at him over the top of her steaming teacup where she sat looking down at him on the floor at the place he had crashed after the night before. "Meatloaf", she answered, "I just used a meatloaf. Get up. I'm kicking you out."
International Kara Coup: The federal agent looked around the little inconspicuous specialties shop in the north west metro in amazement. "I want every pixel, every memory chip and every gigabyte, every black and white or color image, if the deviant was so brash, accounted for or heads will roll. Do you hear me?", the meticusly dressed plain clothes man barked to his henchmen. "YES SIR", was the corused answer as the backs continued to carry out scanners and printers. He was seething on the inside as he watched the men carry out his orders with military precision while he wondered how the suspect had eluded his grasp yet again. "Boss", the voice of his assistant sounded in his ear, "your man was just spotted escaping the perimeter in a canoe." "Stay on him, I'll be right there." Now maybe he would find out the reason this mastermind was exporting all of Iceland's mojo hidden in the technology now being loaded for evidence in the fleet of waiting trucks. "Out of my way cat", he kicked at the surprising healthly looking feral that was blocking his car door.
*Pearly White dilemma: The young girl sighed and blew the wisps of longish blond hair with frustration as she stood in the registrars office for the umptenth time. Deviously to her advantage they had changed the deadline for registration, she realized with renewed hope. The teeth in her new Marrimecco bag rattled softly as she swing it with ethusiasm over her shoulder after turning in the entrance essay for the dental program, and planned in her mind the current mosaic of Rush Limbaugh she is currently crafting. "I hope I get a bunch with a lot of sliver fillings for his hair", she wished out loud as she stepped back out onto the busy campus.
*Mind Blowing Meat: "Baby, he said his eyes still closed underneath the thick arm flung across his forehead, "what you did last night. Man you blew my mind." She looked at him over the top of her steaming teacup where she sat looking down at him on the floor at the place he had crashed after the night before. "Meatloaf", she answered, "I just used a meatloaf. Get up. I'm kicking you out."
International Kara Coup: The federal agent looked around the little inconspicuous specialties shop in the north west metro in amazement. "I want every pixel, every memory chip and every gigabyte, every black and white or color image, if the deviant was so brash, accounted for or heads will roll. Do you hear me?", the meticusly dressed plain clothes man barked to his henchmen. "YES SIR", was the corused answer as the backs continued to carry out scanners and printers. He was seething on the inside as he watched the men carry out his orders with military precision while he wondered how the suspect had eluded his grasp yet again. "Boss", the voice of his assistant sounded in his ear, "your man was just spotted escaping the perimeter in a canoe." "Stay on him, I'll be right there." Now maybe he would find out the reason this mastermind was exporting all of Iceland's mojo hidden in the technology now being loaded for evidence in the fleet of waiting trucks. "Out of my way cat", he kicked at the surprising healthly looking feral that was blocking his car door.
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
Volunteer Friend
I'm sorry I won't have time any more to write. I'm going to be hanging out with all my new friends. The are a bunch of nice, conciderate people who tiraided me with phone calls in the past couple of weeks worrying about my civic responsibility. I now have all their phone numbers on my caller ID and plan on returning each and every call. I will, however wait until I have my kids in bed late late tonight so not to interrupt any more of my family time. The losers party's I will console, like the true buddy I am and ask questions like, "So how's it feel now there in on the bottom? Waste much time and money did ya?" Maybe I'll ask a couple of surveys myself. "Rate how sucky you feel, little crappy, moderately enh, or sharp poke in the eye." The winners of course I will barrage with hoots and cheers and beg them to come out celebrating with me. Maybe we will get together and build a nice effergy of the loser party symbol out of political signs or just a nice collage from the flyers. Whatever the turnout, I don't care. It is my social life that benefits in the long run.
Saturday, November 04, 2006
Three Huts North of Rovaniemi
I sat in the yeti with my legs crossed polishing off the rye pancakes and wishing for more. More pancakes. More heat. More bathrooms. More words.
We had been in the rental car since back in Rovaniemi, where all forms of public transportation, and most signs of civilization ended. My family couldn't understand why I had wanted to continue on north and I had no solid reason. I just knew there had to be something good farther ahead. I was beginning to feel down because I did not want to disappoint them. My sister drove and I read out loud to the boys as we all acted as elk spotters when the pesky creatures came trotting out of the forests in groups to cross the road ahead of us.
The others had left me behind to find facilities as I sat and ate the delicious crepe type pancakes made with cloudberrys and cream and squirmed on my seat while I took in my surroundings. It was an unheated gift shop /cafe of sorts on the side of the road north of no where and I studied the leather drums and reindeer boots and carved wooden cups as I chewed. At one point I took my plate off the birch table and placed it in my lap for warmth. The proprietor, who spoke no English, sat stroking his Husky and trying not to be too obvious that he was studying me. He reminded me of one the the troll dolls that lined the shelves and made me uneasy. I can only imagine what I looked like to him, underdressed, shivering and unable to sit still as I wolfed down my food. I turned my eyes from the baskets hanging on a stand to the leather sheaved reindeer knives and farther up to the gigantic wooden mushroom on the top of the display. "That's some wild mushrooms they have here", I said to myself. "Long. Must be some kind of enoki." Then I realized with a blush that I was staring at an enormous birch penis.
And then I looked back to the troll who was openly staring at me and stroking his dog hard.
I ran out of there still chewing never wiping the cream from the corners of my mouth in search of my family who had gone on ahead to the next shack in the grouping of three that made up this stop.
The next one was run by a lovely young girl who sold no wooden phalis in her hut. I had seen penis magnets, and charms and bookends, and everything else you could possibly make using that shape openly displayed across Finland. At the Santa Claus village on the north pole my youngest son picked up a beautiful bottle opener only to find the decorative end to be yet another dick. I bought the first hand made wool cardigan I found in the second hut. I would of stayed and talked to her had my bladder not been on the verge of embarrassing me. "Have the reindeer been a problem for you on the road?", she tenitivly asked me in broken English as I made her only purchase for the day, maybe the week. "No, I answered, "Only a million caribou." And she smiled and pointed me to the last building when I asked to use the restroom.
Back in the car on the road again after using the outhouse, when my belly was full and I was warm I turned to my sister and said, "That was some wood that guy had back there, wasn't it?"
She rolled her eyes and looked in the rearview at the kids sitting in the back seat eagerly waiting for me to continue reading Lemony Snickett. "Just keep your eyes peeled for deer will ya?"
I learned three things that day in those huts. Dicks shaped like fungus can be considered sacred or lucky like a four leaf cover or a cross. Nordic reindeer can be as big as caribou. "Most people opinions aren't worth a pinch of(outhouse) shit."
It was one of the high points of the trip, looking back.
We had been in the rental car since back in Rovaniemi, where all forms of public transportation, and most signs of civilization ended. My family couldn't understand why I had wanted to continue on north and I had no solid reason. I just knew there had to be something good farther ahead. I was beginning to feel down because I did not want to disappoint them. My sister drove and I read out loud to the boys as we all acted as elk spotters when the pesky creatures came trotting out of the forests in groups to cross the road ahead of us.
The others had left me behind to find facilities as I sat and ate the delicious crepe type pancakes made with cloudberrys and cream and squirmed on my seat while I took in my surroundings. It was an unheated gift shop /cafe of sorts on the side of the road north of no where and I studied the leather drums and reindeer boots and carved wooden cups as I chewed. At one point I took my plate off the birch table and placed it in my lap for warmth. The proprietor, who spoke no English, sat stroking his Husky and trying not to be too obvious that he was studying me. He reminded me of one the the troll dolls that lined the shelves and made me uneasy. I can only imagine what I looked like to him, underdressed, shivering and unable to sit still as I wolfed down my food. I turned my eyes from the baskets hanging on a stand to the leather sheaved reindeer knives and farther up to the gigantic wooden mushroom on the top of the display. "That's some wild mushrooms they have here", I said to myself. "Long. Must be some kind of enoki." Then I realized with a blush that I was staring at an enormous birch penis.
And then I looked back to the troll who was openly staring at me and stroking his dog hard.
I ran out of there still chewing never wiping the cream from the corners of my mouth in search of my family who had gone on ahead to the next shack in the grouping of three that made up this stop.
The next one was run by a lovely young girl who sold no wooden phalis in her hut. I had seen penis magnets, and charms and bookends, and everything else you could possibly make using that shape openly displayed across Finland. At the Santa Claus village on the north pole my youngest son picked up a beautiful bottle opener only to find the decorative end to be yet another dick. I bought the first hand made wool cardigan I found in the second hut. I would of stayed and talked to her had my bladder not been on the verge of embarrassing me. "Have the reindeer been a problem for you on the road?", she tenitivly asked me in broken English as I made her only purchase for the day, maybe the week. "No, I answered, "Only a million caribou." And she smiled and pointed me to the last building when I asked to use the restroom.
Back in the car on the road again after using the outhouse, when my belly was full and I was warm I turned to my sister and said, "That was some wood that guy had back there, wasn't it?"
She rolled her eyes and looked in the rearview at the kids sitting in the back seat eagerly waiting for me to continue reading Lemony Snickett. "Just keep your eyes peeled for deer will ya?"
I learned three things that day in those huts. Dicks shaped like fungus can be considered sacred or lucky like a four leaf cover or a cross. Nordic reindeer can be as big as caribou. "Most people opinions aren't worth a pinch of(outhouse) shit."
It was one of the high points of the trip, looking back.
*one of my Finnish fathers quotes
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