Random Esquire

I’ve been thinking about forgiveness. In many contexts. But today I thought of my father and how whenever my sister or I accomplished something, he had a hard time recognizing it without talking about his own accomplishments.  If we got all As, he pointed out that he got all As for all four years in high school. If we won a competition, he pointed out competitions he’d won. And whenever he does accomplish something, he is a little boastful.

And it’s okay.

Because I understand now with a few years under my belt. My father, the second oldest of eleven children, never received the attention and recognition he wanted or needed for his accomplishments. There were always younger ones who needed more pressing attention.

My father loves music. I remember, when I was much younger, watching him listen to Colm Wilkinson sing Bring Him Home from Les Miserables. He tried to sing along and told me, sadly, that he used to have a good voice.  His eyes welled up and he told me that when he was a child, he had a very painful ear infection. His parents did not take him to the doctor and kept telling him to tough it out.  He said the pain was excruciating. Then, one night, the pressure in his ear built up and he heard a pop and a whoosh of pain that left his pillow bloody.  His eardrum had ruptured.

I could see that he was angry still at his parents for not taking him to the doctor. Not even paying enough attention to the physical pain he felt. Despite how much he loves them and respects them, there is still that pain.  And all that pain from childhood has left a thin, slightly tinted figurative scar over his eyes and heart that colors what he sees and feels.

I thought about that today. And how one of my goals is to learn to not only see someone’s scars but the pain it represents and how it colors their life.

It is a lesson I regret I may have learned too late.

1.  Sunday, the 9th,  is my birthday. My mother wants me to come home for lunch.

Mom: “What would you like me to make you for lunch?”

RE: “I want XX!”

Mom: “No, I’ll make you YY.”

RE: *blink*

2.  Besos: “Do you sleep on my side of the bed when I’m not there?”

RE:  ”No, I sleep in the middle of the bed… just like when you are here.” *dashing grin*

Besos: “Sounds about right.”

3.  I’m officially looking to buy my first place. This declaration is akin to saying “PLEASE GIVE ME ALL KINDS OF UNSOLICITED ADVICE.”

4.  Some guy (“Jimmy”) reviewed an air purifier and noted that it can detect his farts. Seriously.

5.  Besos has had a cough. She got a prescription for cough medicine and just tried it. She pulled such a face and went on about it that – naturally – I decided I wanted to taste it.

That’s an interesting reaction, isn’t it? I suppose it’s somewhat like smelling week-past-due milk or something, yanking your face away from the opening and then shoving it over to someone and saying, “Oh, God, this smells so bad….Smell it.” Except here, someone didn’t have to invite me to partake in the unpleasantness. Here, I witnessed it and immediately volunteered.

Let this be a testament to my idiocy.

Anyway, I poured a splash of this cough syrup into a spoon and shoved it in my mouth.

Easily the worst, most bitter cough medicine I’ve ever had.

I mean, at least… I think it was.

So, just to be sure, I tried it again.

What’s wrong with me??

I asked Besos tonight if she wanted a cookie. She said yes and opened her mouth. I grinned and grabbed a cookie and put it in her mouth.  While I did so, I said reverently:  ”The body of Christ.”

I mean, I know it’s not.  Sometimes, these things just strike me as funny and I am not good at resisting the urge to amuse myself.  Why should I? Why should everyone else be able to enjoy my humor but me?  The thing is, I’m sort of fun to have around!

Yes. I realize I sound like an idiot. It’s a problem.

Anyway, back to the story. I said, “The body of Christ.” as I placed the cookie on her tongue.

Her eyes got big and she reached out and swatted me.  This is because Besos is good and would never say such things.

I then went to open my beer and reached into a drawer for the opener. I have a kick ass vegetable peeler which saw fit, at that moment, to slice my thumb open.  I looked down at my bloody thumb.

*sigh*

Dammit, OKAY, I get it, Jesus. It’s a cookie. Not the body of Christ.

This just means that should the situation arise again, I will now say: “The body of Christ…but not really.”

Which, quite frankly, is probably good advice for anyone.

1.  Besos and I were sitting on the couch the other day.  I happened to glance at her and then, without thinking, I blurted out,

“You look pretty Mexican.”

She slowly turned her head and stared at me.

I said, “…You.  Look.  Pretty.”

She turned back to the television.

2.  Besos celebrated a birthday on Friday.  This means that on Thursday, I had to sneak a bouquet of flowers into the place and hide them so I could wake up at 4 a.m. and put them out so she could wake up to flowers.  It’d be sort of bogus if she woke up without flowers.  Then we went to dinner and she was pleasantly surprised to find roses at the table already, waiting for her.

Girl + Flowers =

3.  At dinner, I ate a really good ribeye (on the bone) that had been aged 4 weeks.  It makes me want to get a small fridge just to age meat.

Little Filthy got, for the first time in his life, a bone.  Mind you, I didn’t just hand it to him because I’m pretty sure he’d scuttle under the bed to enjoy his treat.  Rather, I held the frenched end in my hand and let him gnaw away – which he did at a furiously fast pace.

I am allergic to cantaloupe.  It makes my tongue and throat swell.

Just now, I brought a bowl of cantaloupe to Besos.  Now, it smelled good.  And so I decided, what the hell, I’ll try some because it’s been years since I gave it a go.  I said, “I’m going to have a piece.”

Besos said, without even bothering to lift her eyes from her laptop, “Don’t.”

So I put a piece in my mouth.  It was really good.

So I put a second piece in my mouth.

And that is when my tongue began to tingle.

I said, “Hon, don’t let me at that bowl of cantaloupe because my tongue is already starting to tingle.”

She said – still not bothering to look up – “If your eyes begin to bulge out of your head, I’m going to first say I told you so and then I’ll take you to the hospital.”

She has priorities.

I have joked that some people could be summed up in one short phrase.

For instance, I had a friend who was a complete know it all and I thought his phrase should be: “A little knowledge is a dangerous thing.”

Then there is Avitania who manages to say the most offensive thing you’ve ever heard.  Every time you see her.  Her phrase would be: “One step too far.  One step too far.”

QTMama’s phrase? “One for the road!”

Then there is my buddy:  “I know a guy.”

Little Filthy’s phrase would be, “I’d eat that.”

The other night, in bed, I asked Besos, “What would my phrase be?”

She thought for a while and said, “Sit on my dick?”

I froze in place and then turned my head toward her, trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

Then, I realized.

The other day, I was talking about some situation and I used the phrase ‘get off my dick‘.  (I was not using the phrase toward Besos but rather describing a situation.)  I then had to explain the phrase to Besos as meaning “lay off” or “get off my back”.

This, apparently, was the first phrase that came to her mind.  Or, rather, some variation of it.

I said, “honey, the phrase is ‘get off my dick‘ and that wouldn’t be my phrase!”

She just grinned.

So it’s a toss up between “I can’t be bothered” or “Who gives a shit?”

What’s your phrase?

1.  I have been considering deleting my blog.  I had typed out the entry to let people know when Besos leaned over, put her hand on mine and said, “Wait.  Just wait a bit longer.”

2.  Grocery shopping with Besos is strangely arousing.

3.  Little Filthy went to the park today.  He peed 27 times.

I WISH I WAS KIDDING.

4.  On Thursday evening, my father sent me a text message at 10 p.m. and informed me that my mother had gone to lunch and had not yet returned.  I frowned.  I called him to speak with him.  She had also forgotten her mobile phone at home so my father could not reach her.  By 11, I sent a text to my sister to ask if she’d spoken with Mom recently.  She hadn’t.  By 11:30, I was staring at the ceiling wondering about when people say that one call can change your life – and I wondered if this was my day?

She arrived home later.  She’d gone to dinner, not lunch.  She felt terrible that the entire family was ready to stroke out.

I took a very deep breath and do not remember falling asleep.

1.  Little Filthy has some sort of bizarre obsession with Besos’s hair.  The moment she rests her head on a pillow, he is next to her, pressing his nose in her hair and then rubbing against her head.  The moment she gets up, he dive bombs her pillow and gives it a full body slam.  I don’t get it.

2.  Do you know that when you live with someone, it’s like… someone helps you live life.  Dude, how cool is that?

3.  One of the things Besos is learning about dog ownership is that Little Filthy sure enjoys a healthy drink of water.  This means he has frequent urges.  This evening, I overheard Besos informing Little Filthy that she was going to put a rubberband on his wiener.

It’s a tightly run ship over here, folks.

Besos spoke with her family tonight.  Afterwards, she looked at me and said, “That was my grandmother.”

Besos continued, “She said, ‘I just had surgery in one eye and the other one doesn’t work.’”

I paused and looked up.

She said, “So I said, “Oh…., well, use your imagination, Grandma.‘”

I burst out laughing.  I said, “Seriously?”

She laughed and said, “Well, what was I supposed to say??  Besides…she didn’t hear me.”

I said, “She didn’t hear you?”

She said, “No…she’s gone deaf.”

I couldn’t help it. I burst out laughing again.

We’re going to hell.

1.  Why do I always end up dating teachers?

Because I have childhood fantasies, people. That’s why.

2.  I am leaving for NYC on Saturday morning. Work threatens to explode while I am gone.  This displeases me.

3.  Instigator’s daughter calmly explained the mechanics of sex to a peer.  This cracks me up.

4.  Little Filthy will be staying with my parents while I am out of town.  I suspect he will celebrate by baking a potato on my mother’s rug, as is his habit.  She will be delighted, no doubt.

5.  I will be meeting up with the Seattle Crew while in NYC.  They will all meet my sister.  This should be interesting!