Sunday, December 01, 2019

Dedicated to the Sexy People & The Baptist Lady

Several years back, too many to count, we spoke about Haiti and other stuff at a tiny little Baptist church in the middle of vast fields of wide open space in the middle-east portion of the sprawling state of Texas. 

On that day, I did what I often do, I said more than people are comfortable with - maybe especially because we were in a tiny little Baptist church. I don't actually remember what I said. I only remember what happened afterward.

At the end of the service when we were doing the stand around and be polite / do chit-chat thing, an older lady came to see me.  She was older in the sense of actual age. Not just older than me. I would estimate her age on that day to be 84.  She put her right hand on my wrist, squeezed and said, "Oh my Dear, thank you for visiting. We don't talk about those things in church."

I initially thought that was meant as an admonishment. Sort of a, "I can't believe you said that in the house of the Lord." Now I don't know for sure. All these years later I have decided that maybe she meant it as a kindness. You know more of a, "you Go, girl" kind of statement.

I think it is weird that so many topics are off limits with certain crowds.  My rebellion against that has been to freely talk about things most people find awkward.  It probably helps a great deal that I am a midwife and because I deal in poop, puke, fluids of all colors and aromas, nothing seems off limits for discussion to me.

Here's the thing about real stuff ... Real life is messy and unplanned. It is often disappointing or dull. It is not curated and lovely and linear. It it not always a perfect event like Internet "influencers" and advertisers wish us to believe. 

Why do we still pretend otherwise? I honestly

Real life is an overflowing toilet, an unresolved medical bill dispute, and kids with hormones and emotions ruining your hopes for order or family unity.

I recently learned about the newest hyped up event in our American culture. Because of movies and television and curated social media, kids are now making up prom proposals as if life is some sort of fairy tale. It seems that just saying, "Hey would you be my prom date" is a thing of the late 90s or early 2000s. 

If my son wants to invite a girl to prom and get the date, he is going to need to compete. I'm going to have to help him get his pilot's license, rent a skywriter airplane, and compose a sonnet in the sky. Sadly, the other guy that is asking the same girl already hired Pavarotti to sing an operatic prom invitation posthumously.  

Sorry, Noah. Your skywriter is lame-sauce. 

This is the over the top stupid way of our world now. 

Everything fancier, bigger, more expensive. 

It makes my old-lady bones rage.

Who can live up to these expectations of grandiose gestures?  

I will tell you what, youngsters ... Real life won't allow this nonsense for long!!

Thanks in part to ridiculous prom invitations and all of the unrealistic romance and sex on television and in movies, kids these days all think ahead about the wonder of being madly in love and how amazing the physical attraction and unhindered romantic gestures must be. 

For certain, two people that love each other a lot must be living the best life ever with only really great movie-like love scenes and trips to Venice or Paris happening on the regular. 

Because I am curmudgeonly, I would like to dispel some myths this afternoon.

We had not seen each other in a few weeks.  The 20+-years married attraction is still quite strong for us, but life, it gets in the way.  We were tired and our bodies ached from the busy day we had both had. We fell into bed and I said, "Rain-check for middle of the night or tomorrow morning sound okay?" 
(This is actual sexy-talk.)  

He looked deep into my eyes and said, "Heck yes, babe. Goodnight!"

A very short time later I sort of woke up. Disoriented, I wondered why there was tapping on my shoulder?? Does he think *this* is already the middle of the night or morning?!?!? GOD HELP HIM.  

Once I realized the tapping was a smaller person, the words I heard helped me snap to. It was not my dear husband with a rain-check in hand. It was a little girl saying, "I puked all over my bed."

I hopped up. I saw the massive destruction. I went to kitchen for a spatula. I stripped sheets and took them to the bathroom. I used said spatula to remove scoops of food off of bedsheets and place into toilet. I started the first load of stench laundry. I put new sheets on the child's bed. I washed my hands, face, arms with soap. Pieces of fried rice came off of me. I came back to bed with the man I love and had not seen in two weeks.

We laid there, staring at the ceiling.  

I finally said it.  

"We're awake now. Wanna go for it?"  

And so, the incredible unimaginably hot scene unfolded.  

Several moments into the rendezvous, I said, "Hold up. Argh! I cannot get the smell of vomit out of my nostrils.  I still smell it. That is really jacking with me,  would you please go put a ton of cologne on for me?"

A sexy-love-scene like this is what real life is. 

My man, he jumped right up and ran to his cologne bottle for me. He covered up the smell of our child's puke like the sexy-beast that he is.  

These kids and their silly prom-posals don't even know what there is to look forward to.  

The 84 year old lady at the Baptist church will never read this post.  Nevertheless, I dedicate it to her.

~  ~  ~  ~

Facts for your enjoyment:
How much does it cost to get something written in the sky?
If winds are strong, visibility of the skywriting can vary from a seconds to 5-10 minutes.  Skywriting starts at $3,500.00 for a single writing, plus any ferry fees to move aircraft into your desired location. Multiple writings per day can be discounted depending on location.  (Maybe ask two girls to prom to be sure you end up with a date?)