I Get By With A Little Help From My Friends

Not to imitate Kacy’s theme of self-loathing…it must be something in the air….

I thought I would share a triumph followed by a spectacular fall from coolness.

Yesterday, I had on my cool new jeans, the ones worth discussing in a subsequent blog. After a decent day of feeling decent in my jeans, I decided to stop by Kacy and Christian’s house. They were going out to dinner, and graciously asked if I would like to go along. Since dinner out is always better than lonely dark house, I accepted and we had a wonderful time.

Once back at their house, Christian valiantly put the kids to bed while Kacy and I chatted. We were tired and full of Korean food so we slumped down on their comfy overstuffed furniture.

During a particularly interesting and witty antidote I was telling, Kacy began to point and laugh at my crotchal region. (When you’re full with yummy Korean spicy pork lettuce wraps you are exempt from sitting like a lady.) I looked down and saw a single piece of rice clinging to my sexy new jeans.

“Oh,” said I. “I must have dropped some rice.”

“No!” Kacy laughed with increasing intensity. “There’s more!”

I looked a little further, and lo and behold, there was ANOTHER clump of dried rice! Yikes. It was getting embarrassing.

“Oh, I must have dropped more than I thought!” said I good-naturedly.

“No!” cried Kacy once more. “It’s all over!”

Without getting too graphic…I must have dropped a whole SPOONFUL of rice in my lap and proceeded to grind it into my crotch with my every movement. My new jeans! My pride! As I walked like a bow-legged cowboy to her trash can to throw away dried rice I discovered not only more rice…but a new level of humiliation. Luckily, Kacy and I are to the point in our relationship where I can pick rice off my crotchal region in front of her and she can laugh it up with no discomfort on my part, nor malice on hers. But I must say that I felt a strange new sensation much like the need to go home and clean out my fat rolls: negligent and slovenly…even *gasp* sloppy.

So much for the sexy jeans. The effect was ruined. I wanted to run home in shame. But, see, this is where everyone needs a Kacy in their life. Someone to ground you. Some one to help you “keep it real”. Someone to tell you when you have a LOT of rice smashed in to your crotch and then laugh it up uncontrollably. Thanks, dear friend. Thanks a lot.

A Chosen Vessel

The other night as I was driving to pick Todd up from school, God blessed me with the rarest and most fleeting of gifts. For about 10 minutes, the combination of a long day and allergies allowed me to sing JUST like Billie Holiday. I was almost as good as David Sedaris. So I milked it, and all the way to campus I sang “All of Me” at the top of my lungs. Well, that was the only song I could remember, and only one verse of it at that, but perhaps someone along 800 North needed to hear Billie sing that song that night, and I was there to make it happen. Thank you, Lord, for making me a vessel for good…or for good jazz anyway.