Really, I have a good excuse I swear!
See, um,....I was called into duty about two weeks ago as a lion tamer apprentice. You see....their other apprentice met an unhappy end while feeding Simba(the lion) by hand. Now you and I both know that feeding a lion by hand is simply not a good idea, unless of course you're into appendage mutilation..in which you're pretty much a freak. So, knowing my experience with wild animals (aka - Kendell) they called me in to pinch hit (so to speak) and ride bareback at the big top lion tamer performances (big top...meaning tent...not my top...which I should know is NOT big). Which of course I handled with my usual finesse, only to be tripped by the bitchy trapeze harlot that had a secret crush on Julio, the main lion tamer, which sent me flying off Simba in a tangle of spangles and leather.....
What?
Ok..FINE....I met a man.
There...satisfied?
New post coming soon....I swear on Julio's tight little spandex pants.
“The court clerk is downstairs” she was saying slowly to a young Hispanic gentleman.
“Can you tell him the clerk is on the sixth floor for me KaraMia?” she asked, turning to me.
“Oh, sure” A few weeks previously I had printed out some cheat sheets with phrases both in English and Spanish for our front counter. We have a large population of Hispanic people who come to court and they don’t always speak English. While I can usually direct them in broken Spanish, I wanted to do something that made it easier for them to understand me, hence my little Spanish language version of cliff notes.
“El empleado para el tribunal esta en el sexto piso” I tell him, my Spanish cobwebbed and creaky from years of non use.
I glance up to see him looking at me with a half grin hanging off his face, “you can speak English.” He says with a slight accent.
My jaw drops, my cheeks ignite and I glare at my coworker with beams of molten lava.
“Oh. Um, ok. Then you need to go to the sixth floor, the court clerk is located there.”
“Thanks” he says, the grin bouncing out over the word. I watch him leave the office and turn to face my coworker who was busily arranging some papers on her desk and doing everything possible to appear innocent.
“What the hell was that!” I ask her
Her shoulders are shaking with suppressed laughter and she looks at me, hands held palms up in the age old sign of, “OOPS”
“He said he needed and interpreter for court. I assumed that meant he couldn’t speak English.” She pleaded her case.
“You know what they say about assuming...” I shot back
“Yes” she replied, “But looks like this time it only made and ass outta YOU”
Score one for coworker, negative five for the jack ass wearing my face today.
Computer is dead.
Dead. Dead. Dead.
I believe it committed suicide. Too much porn surfing?
I dunno and I'm not telling.
Two hours later I've showered, fed and watered small child and furry
child with big mouth, watched several episodes on
E entertainment news, and finally dragged my weekend butt out the door.
It's off to the library to kill THEIR computer. One hour of waiting
for every freaking adolescent in Pierce County to get OFF a computer and I finally get on and get my fix....ahhh, it's gooood!
On my way to blockbuster to further enhance my video viewing Knowledge and I notice my phone. My phone however is to busy to notice me.
Busy doing what you might ask? Well, evidently it is the tool of the
devil and is busily spewing and hissing it's satanic language at me.
It's hot to touch..there fore I know for sure..yup, tool of the devil.
I do my rounds at blockbuster, knock back some Raisenettes with
the boys and I'm on my way home again to try and exorcise my phone.
I call T-mobile who hems and haws but finally agrees the child of Satan is indeed speaking to me from my cell phone and we should exchange the phone post haste.
I drive to the tmobile store to get a loaner phone that is not after my
immortal soul and head back home. On the way home, the car stalls
at a light and spits and sputters back to my house.
Call computer geek store and promise glimpses of cleavage if they will resurrect dead computer. They tell me my cleavage is not enough to buy me over night service..however it should be done by Friday...DEAL!
I have decided I am the bane on all things electronic and shall
move to a small island in the Caribbean with my small man child, furry brat boy, and a battalion of scantily clad man candy.
So forgive my lack of attention to your blogs, I'm currently being
held captive by Hernando, Rafael, Miguel, and other swartherly
skinned fellows.
...do not attempt rescue!
"It's a child support check buddy."
"What?" he asks with questions in his eyes.
"It's money your father is supposed to pay to help with expenses. We've been getting a few. Isn't that cool?"
A smile blooms over my sons face, brightening the car with all the force of an exploding star. My smile unfurls in an echoing dance to his.
"That means he loves me!"
My heart drops into my belly and everything inside me shrivels backwards as if retreating from a hot flame.
"Oh buggy, money has nothing to do with love. I'm sure your father loves you even if he's not paying support." The lie slides out from between my teeth, leaving them feeling coated and dirty.
I watch his face fall and suddenly the sun is gone from my sky and I have to clench my teeth shut to stop the barrage of insults from battering against my lips for release; each one a scud missile aimed directly at his fathers head.
"Bubuh", I say gently, "I think you're father loves you as much as he is able to love anyone. Not every man is made to be a father." The storm front gathers across his precious face and I can see the lightening flashing behind his eyes as he turns his turbulent stare out the car window.
"He left because of me." His words ricochet off the glass like bullets.
"Never. Ever. because of you." My voice invites no argument. There is no doubt there to ensnare him, no hesitancy to sneak into his mind late at night.
"Not even because of me. Sometimes people are less then what you want them to be and it's no ones fault but their own." My words are like putting a band aid on a cavernous wound to the heart.
"You have so many people that love you baby." I list them one by one, retelling stories so loved and cherished that they are soft and faded by frequent handling.
"I just want a daddy" he whispers quietly, the words pealing like bells in my ears.
"I know boo bear, I wish for it too. But no matter what, you got me. You will always have me. You are my sun, my moon, and my stars."
I tease and tickle him back into a semblance of his happy self and we drive back to our warm nest and a dog whom eagerly awaits our arrival. I watch him tumble from the car and tangle with his 85 pound best friend. The giggles float up to color my world in bright, vibrant hues.
The tears I had strangled in my throat fill my eyes and the scene in front of me swims and swirls with the beauty of a gossamer web. The anger and pain that normally lies quietly, weighted below a sea of years, erupts with a ferocious roar inside my head and I turn away from my family in order to tame the beast raging inside me. Every cell in my being cries out against my inability to change what is. My impotency leaves me shriveled and small.
I look over to see him smile up at me, arms full of dog, face snuggled into blond fur. His smile radiates love and trust, lulling the beast into complacency.
My world once again settles and exhales.
In the end it is all so simple; everything begins and ends with his smile.
For that smile, I could conquer worlds.
