Friday night, Jennifer and Tom went on a date, and left the Maggie with us. Whoa. It was not pretty. She started expressing her anxiety and angst, and two hours later, she finally screamed herself into a coma. Whoa. It was my worst Maggie experience to date… I believe I may have shed a few tears myself.
And while the Maggie Meltdown was commencing, Ms Linda came by with another little friend. Coby, a red and white Japanese Chin in need of a good home. Well, obviously since we already have a Japanese Chin, one more doesn’t make a difference, right?
The Chins raced about wildly, chasing each other, biting and growling and throwing themselves off the furniture in a frenzy. Maggie’s screaming. David Lee, who had come over to watch Clemson basketball, had a beer and watched the chaos instead. I believe that he may have questioned his decision to visit our House of Insanity more than once – I would have if I had been him.
I ended up back on my bed holding the finally sleeping Maggie. Ms Linda came back to check on her, and asked me how I was… Her casual question was followed by an hour-long spew of word vomit, tears, and more words. It was like I couldn’t stop. I told her about my dreams – my bad, bad dreams. I told her about how exhausted I feel when I wake up every morning – glad that the dreams have ended, aching all over, and using ever-increasing eye makeup to cover the circles. She listened, patted me on the leg, and gave me pills from her bottomless bag-o-tricks.
On Sat, I did, um…. What did I do? I gave Oscar a bath, which he detested. He was already having a bad day due to the arrival of Coby, and then I just inflicted the final indignity by bathing him. And then, that’s all. That’s all I did. I swung in the hammock with a book and a blanket for hours, took a nap, and refused to feel guilty for my lack of productivity. Saturday night, Tom, Jennifer, and a much-happier Maggie came over for pizza and a movie. We never watched the movie but that’s ok.
So today is March 23, Easter Sunday. I don’t really have a recent memory of our family spending Easter together, so there’s not the gaping hole that every other holiday now has. I have lovely memories of childhood Easters – matching Easter dresses, chocolate-filled Easter baskets, going to our home church (and it was actually a home, the only church that I’ve ever been able to call my “home church), and then a ham (the real kind, with a brown sugar glaze and pineapple slices held on by cloves) for dinner with lemon pie for dessert.
In recent years, however, our Easters have become a little more, hmmm, shall we say, unorthodox? Take today, for example. We got up, went to church at NewSpring, had lunch with Bobby’s family. Then Bobby and his mom worked in the yard – even cut grass – on Easter Sunday. Pretty much confirmed our heathenism to everyone within earshot – I mean, WHO cuts grass on Easter Sunday? Then this evening, we built a fire in our fire pit out back, and roasted hot dogs and marshmellows on straightened wire clothes hangers for Easter dinner. That’s the Weathers family, just keeping it real. We had chili, fries, and baked beans (which I accidentally flavored with Palmolive dish liquid, but it didn’t seem to have an adverse affect on anyone), and made smores, while Bobby and Tom kept a running commentary of off-color humor about “weiners.”
Traditional? That would be a no. But fun? Yes, actually.
And now for some visual aids: