it’s raining. it’s cold and gray and so am i. (gray lululemon hoodie. but my hair is sure to follow soon, though. i can just tell. it’s one of those weeks.)
I never answer the phone. I’ve had to get better about this because sometimes it’s a craigslist seller saying, “yes – come get my nasty dresser with the white spider egg sacks underneath that will make you SCREAM and reach for Lysol and it’s all $10 right now if you still want it.”
And I am interested in those calls. So that’s how I happened to answer the phone a few weeks back when the pastor called. If I’d known who it was, I most certainly would not have answered. NO QUESTION. There’s just NO way that woulda happened. I would have gotten extremely social anxiety-ish and listened to the phone ring while imagining all the terrible things he was going to say, but in a nice quiet voice that sounded all holy somehow and then i’d never go to church again because he was probably calling to ask me that I not return anyway. And maybe if I did, I could also please mark myself with a large, scarlet ‘D’?
that’s not how it went. except the nice quiet voice part. he wanted to know what happened with Mike and I. i told him. without getting into any details, there were broad brushstrokes covered. and then? he was nice. helpful. completely supportive. kind. the judgment or the plea to do something more or different or anything of the sort… didn’t come.
there’s nothing about him or that church that would make me expect anything less than kindness. it’s just that i don’t really expect that of people, and i forget the low altitude of my own expectations.
I won’t be there this week though. Letter D, or not. Last night I put the kids to bed and was watching Top Shot and my dad texted and said he’d teach me to shoot this weekend. I was SO excited. SHOOT STUFF?! OH YES PLEASE. He said something about making really big targets (and I didn’t realize what he was saying until later when i was too excited to go to sleep) and setting up our own Top Shot stuff and I am SO looking forward to this. Mike has the kids, so it’ll just be me. (my 3 babies are not going to be near guns. but hey, i am FINALLY old enough to hold one, right?!) LET ME SHOOT SOME THINGS. I’m SO ready.
When I was 15 and my dad was teaching me to drive, he was afraid. He’s not afraid of the large poisonous snakes all over his land. Or the other stuff there that would scare me, like coyotes and skunks in the HOUSE sometimes. But he was definitely afraid of my teenage self behind a wheel and there’s no other way to put it. Maybe he knew how bad my depth perception is. Or that I tend to break everything I touch. Or that I tend to get a little reckless. Or the combination of those.
But he would get a newspaper and hold it up so that it took up the entire front passenger area and he would either read it or pretend to read it. he’d tell me where to go, where to park, what to work on, but he would NOT LOOK. His voice was calm and quiet and he’d laugh nervously when the car would jerk, but he would NOT look.
So! This should be interesting, right?! GUNS! With Daddy!
I jammed my left elbow yesterday. I hope it’s okay before the weekend. It was a stupid injury. (Most of mine are.)
I fell off the MANTEL.
YES. That kind of mantel. It’s a normal mantel-y thing. Five feet off the ground. In the living room. Over the fireplace. I was sort of perched up there because there’s a gigantic clock that needed a new battery and it’s extremely difficult to get on and off the wall and it’s easier to just get right on the mantel and reach behind it.
And that’s where I was when Duke woke up from his nap on the living room floor and saw me up there and freaked out. He only barks about 3 times a year. Whenever he does bark, we all stand around and discuss how unusual and interesting that was, like it was a full solar eclipse or something.
And when Duke barks, it’s a Big Dog Bark. When he’s freaked out because he just woke up and saw a person halfway up his living room wall, he lets out a REALLY scary Big Dog Bark. I jumped and screamed and fell off and smashed into the floor because i was wondering if he was going to recognize me before I hit the carpet – or not – and what would happen if THAT were the case… and so I wasn’t really focused on my landing technique. Jammed elbow.
(He recognized me. He licked my face.)
Next time I’ll make sure the dog is awake when the clock battery needs to be changed.
Now I know.
I hope I’m good to shoot, and paint furniture with my stepmom and drive across Texas and back! There’s stuff to DO.