That Special Someone

After an embarrassingly long hiatus, we got ourselves to Mass this morning in good spirits. At times like these, I'm just hoping no one innocently says to us, "Hey! We've missed you guys - did you go away on vacation?" Thankfully, no one noticed...except, of course, GOD.

I'm quite familiar with God's sense of humor at work in my life, and this morning He had the perfect little something to tweak me for missing Church so much this summer. Something tiny - so small that most people wouldn't notice. Something to make me work at keeping my mind on the readings and the homily.

It was something about the elderly lady seated directly in front of me.

Her short, short hair was snow-white, her tanned neck was bare, and in the exact center of the back of her neck was a huge blackhead that was so aged and overripe, it had a bit of a white halo around it.

I'll give you a moment to shake off the heebie-jeebies.

I spent the entire hour dragging my mind back to the message of the Mass like a dog walker dragging their canine away from an interesting biological specimen on someone else's lawn. I contemplated the social and moral issues surrounding the state of knowing something unsavory about someone else's appearance that they, themselves, do not know. I debated tapping her on the shoulder after Mass and pretending that I thought it was a mole she should mention to her dermatologist. I also mentally weighed how loudly she might scream if I quickly grabbed her neck and popped the damned thing myself.

God was really having fun with me, because this sweet woman was too decrepit to kneel during the prescribed times...but I still had to kneel. This meant that my face was no more than 10 inches from her blemish, and those of you who know me well can attest that it is truly a miracle of grace that I did not dermatologically assault this woman in God's own house.

Now, here's what really bothers me about this poor woman's state: that blackhead could have been older than some or all of my children, it was so entrenched. IS THERE NO ONE IN HER LIFE THAT CAN INFORM HER OF HER PROBLEM?

Let's be honest: the old folks? Their eyes ain't what they used to be, along with all of the rest of their senses. I scan my parents' visible flesh like a monkey searching for nits whenever I see them, because they're old and they almost always have something on them that somebody needs to tell them about or fix for them, for heaven's sake! (My brother will gleefully inform my parents when they need to do something about their "nose bangs". That is true love, people.)


And shouldn't we all have someone who will drag us behind closed doors if we have a prominent whisker or mosaic of ear blackheads of which we are unaware? I don't even want to ponder how righteously pissed I would be if I were to discover something awful and noticeable on my person and then realize that my loved ones hadn't screwed up the nerve to tell me. (This is one excellent reason to reproduce - your kids will tell you without hesitation and from earliest days when your breath smells bad, or if you have a cliffhanger.)

You should know who your special someone is, folks. Take a moment to reaffirm with them that you need them to be on the lookout for you, and that you will lovingly reciprocate the favor.

In other news, I bought myself a very reasonably-priced old school cruiser bike today! (Pink, natch.) It is bare bones: no gears and to brake you have to spin your pedals backwards. It's fucking awesome. I can even pimp it out with optional accessories, which, of course, I plan to do. On my wish list are swoopy chrome fenders, gel hand-grips that are clear with sparkles inside, a giant saddle seat in ivory leather with pink hearts on it and a matching handlebar bell, a chrome rear view mirror, a white rear rack to match my whitewall tires and very possibly a white wicker basket for the front. I may even add streamers if Eug makes fun of me! I am also contemplating 'hog' handlebars to replace the giant half-circle handlebars that grace my bike, now. Laugh if you must, but I am happier than a pig in shit after no fewer than three glorious bike rides today. (Four, if you count the spin I took in the parking lot of the bike shop, wherein I giggled maniacally while the employees of the Coney Island next door were taking their smoke breaks out back.) We also took a long swim in the pool before dinner and I think I have reached my bliss limit for one day.

I hope your weekend has been as lovely as mine, and I hope your Special Someone is always there to protect you from possible embarrassment. Take care, friends!