outside, it's doing that thing where it refuses to rain, but there's tons of lightning and thunder.
when i was younger, my mother explained this to my brother and i as the people in heaven having a huge roller-disco party. the lightning was light reflected off their huge disco ball making it down to us, and the thunder was people falling down and laughing because they were having so much fun.
if the thunder was really loud or frequent, my mom would point to some recent disaster in which many people had died and pass the storm off as their "welcome to heaven" party. she'd explain, "there's a lot of noise because it's a big party tonight, and so many of them are new to all the skating. the new people fall down a lot." for the longest time, when we were at church, i pictured heaven being quite synonymous with studio 54 and jesus in bellbottoms and rollerskates. for me, the death and resurrection of disco was no great shock.
i did, however, find my father wearing pants to be incredibly shocking. not too long ago, i was visiting the family and arrived at the homestead a little later than planned. i set foot within the house at approximately 7:32 pm. my father was wearing pants. i was dumbfounded.
for as long as i can remember, if it is after 6 o'clock in the evening, my father is in his underwear. to see him after the sun had retreated, wearing full-length pants of denim, was a true shock to my system.
i never considered myself a product of a "naked" house. my family was never naked. the presence of a stitch of clothing was mandated and enforced outside the shower. however, a stitch was all that was necessary. as long as all our "bits" were covered, it flew. this is to say, a pair of socks did not suffice, but a pair of white hanes did. thus, i now admit to being the product of a partially-nude house.
regardless, my father was wearing pants. the entire institutional fabric of my childhood had been frayed and stained. he should have been wearing boxers or briefs or that hideous pair of holey, threadbare shorts he is so fond of, but under no circumstance had he (or should he have) ever worn pants. my dad's refusal to wear pants after 6 was what kept my mother cooking for so many years. it was what prevented my family from seeing anything but matinees. his anti-pants stance guaranteed no evening masses, even on high holy days. the boxers, the briefs, and the shorts were the reason my family was never seen as a whole after dark.
he was wearing pants. i demanded we leave the house.
i told everyone we saw that night "this is my dad. he's wearing pants!"
molly's p.s. - the summer job we are both too familiar with has recently begun. my life as i once knew it has ended, as i must now acquiesce to the whims and needs of some 13,000 crazed students, parents, and guests. "skirts" is crazy as ever; she's still having kittens about every little thing, but i will admit that she has made progress in realizing she can't control everything. she actually says, "i can't control everything" right before attempting to do so. i think this is a huge step for her. i'm sure you'll agree. furthermore, i am once again in charge of undertaking tasks which in no way employ those skills i've acquired over my 4 years of experience with the office, while watching my subordinates receive challenging and rewarding work. while the work is mindless and pays fairly well, it is in no way helping me to find a career by august. in other news, the university officially hates me. in the past month, several offices have blatantly tried to prevent me from ever leaving. however, i remain victorious. fuck you, las; fuck you. outside academics and employment, everything is boring. i see minda and adam on a daily basis, and they send their love. i'm sure i'll talk to you soon and enjoy your travels throughout europe.
posted by brett @ 3:06 AM
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