Unique New York

Just like a regular woman, only crankier.

Friday, August 11, 2006

Mysteries of the Unexplained

Your parents truly are your models for marriage. My parents have what is a mostly open and very communicative relationship. Many of their interactions are public material. I have always admired this style, as I feel it creates less stress in a union.

Occasionally, things are withheld from the opposite partner. Not big things, like pregnancy, or suspicious moles, but little things, like the real price of a dress, or your real opinion on his new cologne.

When I came home, I realized that I had forgotten my toothbrush. As I was racing out the door, I realized that my breath smelled like whodunit and ran. I asked my mom if we had another one, and she produced one from her bathroom. I asked no questions, and continued with my frenzied grooming.

The next day, when mom and I were out preparing loot bags for the party, dad called and asked where we were. When mom said "Dollar General," daddy asked for a toothbrush. Mom suppressed a grin, and got the requested toothbrush.

We got in, and dad rooted through all of the Dollar General bags and became more and more frustrated as he couldn't find the new toothbrush. I found it in one of the bags. Dad then went in to look for the old toothbrush (which had been in its package before my mom purloined it for my personal use.)

Dad came out, looking absolutely frazzled, and said, "There is a Bermuda Triangle in the bathroom. I can't even find the wrapper! I mean it's just GONE!"

See, my dad is German. Toothbrushes do not simply disappear. This must be a case of sabotage.

Thing is, he wasn't completely wrong.

As he ranted about where in the hell it could have possibly gone, I offered, "Maybe you should put other things in there that you want to lose," to which dad replied, "Grandma can't fit in the sink."

He was redfaced as he continued on his missing toothbrush diatribe, and mom and I were suppressing laughter.

You see, the real pleasure in life and marriage are the little things. It's not every day that you can enhance the effects of aging by making a person paranoid about their own infirmity. I believe we call that "Schadenfreude."

The prodigal daughter returns

I am now officially back in OKC to fully immerse myself in wedding planning. The last few days has seen the attending to several easily forgettable details, as well as one meltdown. All in all, it is great to be back in my homestate.

My brother, Joshua, has recently moved to his new facility, and he is loving his new home. It is a lot like a college dorm for handicapped folks. Everyone looked happy and healthy, and were eager to introduce themselves to me. Josh even has a girlfriend! Her name is Angie, and she is a puckish redhead. She takes care of Josh like her baby. She hugs him and pats his head, and wipes his mouth in the dining hall. They are a match made in heaven.

Anyway, tonight, we had a giant birthday party for Josh, complete with party favors for 72 adults. They included fans, matchbox cars, and brushes and things for the girls. It was lovely.

I was helping Josh's girlfriend out with her hairbrush, when an older man came older to meet me. He had me guess where he was from, and it turns out he is from Queens. After sharing with him that I live in Brooklyn, he whispered in my ear, "I have a foot fetish." An unwanted advance from any man, handicapped or otherwise, is an unwanted advance. I said, "It's time for you to go make some other friends!"

Anyway, if this whole marriage thing doesn't work out, there's this guy at Josh's home that will settle for me wearing flip-flops all day long.