Heard/Spoken Around These Parts Lately:
Sesth-6yr, upon hearing of a person’s pattern of bad choices in a passing conversation: “Fiery DARTS. That’s what that is. Fiery darts from hell. Learned about that at school, yes we did, FI- UHR-EEE DARTS. I’m gonna play basketball now.” I looked up Ephesians 6:16. Seth-6yr was RIGHT on track with that unexpected word.
“Restraining Orders. Tell me everything you know, please.” (turned out to be unnecessary. no, not Mike)
“Does God ever speak to you through Johnny Cash? LISTEN TO THIS, it’s about when people lie about you, LOVE IT, best line is “long tongue liars” and what happens to them. God CUTS! THEM! DOWN!”
Seth-6yr, in a pathetic voice while getting tucked into bed and feeling like stirring up some drama: “Mom, sometimes the Enemy says to me, ‘your mom is the worst cooker ever’ and then it makes me sad.”
(the above was immediately followed by a gaspy laughing spitting yelling reaction that had him hiding his dimples in his pillow because he KNEW he couldn’t have gotten a better reaction than that.)
“You are a little mama, but that’s okay because you are tougher than big guys.” (I don’t feel like that right now, but let em think it anyway.)
“God either put us together to be friends because He knew we needed each other — or we just drew together all on our own like two magnets because no one else in this town has lives as screwed up as ours.”
“Where do you go to school?” This one had to have been the strangest. It was a neighbor of my mother’s, my age, and she was talking to ME. Hello? Divorcing. Mother of four. WRINKLES. But hey, that’s fine.
My dad, via text: “It’s been a long time since you asked me how to fix something you broke.”
My dad, via text, regarding my adamant refusal to be set up with a ‘nice guy’ he knows, and my telling him I also was not interested in the average sized man named Tiny who tried to pick me up at Lowe’s: “OH. There’s never a good reason for an average sized man to be nicknamed TINY.”
(That is an excellent observation.)
“Even though it’s been months, I still have a DENT in my left ring finger. Like one of those African women who has the gold rings around her neck and then she gets deformed? That’s what this is like… OH. NO. NEVERMIND. THAT”S AWFUL. MAYBE I”M BEING CYNICAL ABOUT MARRIAGE. SORRY.”
“Is it terrible that I threw open the door with a smile when I saw it was the Constable because I was hoping he was serving me with divorce papers? YES. Yes, I guess it is. WOW I HAVE A BAD ATTITUDE.”