Okay, if you’re over 60, or consider yourself in anyway conservative, this is probably not the blog for you. Skip down to the second half of this blog instead or tune in later in the week when I write about Amma or some other lofty topic, because today I’m writing about a special gift I received.
Now don’t get me wrong – I believe one can never have enough copies of Tuesdays With Morrie lying around the house – just in case. It’s a thoughtful gift to be sure. Every once in awhile though, a friend brings me a gift that tickles me. Christina brought back some Billy Boy Condoms from Germany - Das aufregend andere condom or “the other exciting condom”. Not the first gift on most people’s list for the discerning ALS patient but one that cheered me to no end and made me determined to find an opportunity to test drive one while I can. You only have to look at the picture of Billy Boy to know it is indeed das aufregend andere condom, boasting the German engineering precision and attention to detail that we all desire in our love making endeavors. The condoms are mit extra feucht which means they are extra moist as if the germans anticipated that when one speaks a language wherein one has to spit at one’s partner to say I love you (Ich liebe dicht) one cannot assume that the partner will be um….shall we say self-lubricated? Sexy fits really well before Italian, (as in sexy Italian) Frenchman, Greek, Israeli and of course Canadian but German? Not a common word pairing though I’ve seen some pretty hot german guys who could probably make me extra feucht.
I want to be the spokesmodel for Billy Boy. I would wear a purple peignoir set and hold the box next to my face and sigh seductively “Ah Billy Boy. Sie sind zu meinem Vergnügen so aufmerksam.” ( Oh Billy Boy, you are so attentive to my pleasure) That seems like a german ad, doesn’t it?
I think I want to start a condom collection of condoms from around the globe, which I can then bequeath to Mac. If you’re in a foreign country – bring me back a quirky condom.
Yesterday I had lunch with Kris at Scott’s and had half a glass of wine in the middle of a weekday. I felt like one of the ladies who lunch – it was grand. Funny how in the midst of trying appointments and difficult circumstances that oasis of lunch with someone you love can be such a treat. My friend Andy told me that when she was sick with cancer, after every doctor’s appointment his mother would reward herself with some kind of treat – a lunch, a trinket, whatever. I like that idea.
Kris and her husband will no doubt be listing me as a dependent on their 08 tax return. She has done so much for me, it’s astonishing. I am no longer doing laundry because I can’t get the quarters in the machine so she and some of the other girls take my laundry when they drop off my weeks supply of food from Cecilia. You have never seen anyone fold like Kris can. I could put her folded laundry out as a decoration.
Kris is a paradox. On the one hand she has the whole hostess thing totally dialed in. She cooks gorgeous meals, bakes cookies for the baseball parties, volunteers, plans extravagant parties with perfect decorations. She served us fondue once and we actually had to go into a time machine she had built back to 1975 to eat it. At Christmas her house looks like a tree farm or Martha Stewart’s ranch house. She lives on the same block as her parents’ down what they call “the long hallway” and seems to always be hosting family brunches and other festivities. In short, the energy and industry that are required just to be her is exhausting. But there is another side to her.
It’s the woman who shows up at 10AM to help me paint my house (when I had a house to paint) with a giant can of bud…which she actually drinks! It’s the woman who followed the Dead and who is still in love with her college sweetheart. It’s the avid consumer of diet pepsi and mystery novels who is passionately opposed to the death penalty and smart enough to articulate an intelligent position in the face of those who would advocate for it. It’s the woman whose mix of youthful colloquialisms and mastery of the English language creates a style of madly poetic speech that is unmistakably Kris. Imagine a well-manicured, perfectly accessorized mom of a young child asking the kid “Dude, what is your saga?” before launching into a complex analysis of our fractured democracy. That’s her.
Recently I spent an obscene amount of money on tickets to see Flight of the Conchords. It was worth it. Mac and I both agreed that we wanted to marry that concert and have a long committed relationship with it. I was planning to add an equally obscene amount of money onto the deal to rent a limo to take us to the show since it sucks to wait for a cab and BART was too far away. Kris suggested we instead go with her son and his dad and offered to drive us all to the city to her husband’s office. Remembering my limo plans she showed up in a chauffer’s uniform and served champagne ( in glass flutes) and strawberries and non-dairy whip.
I can’t even list the ways that this woman has shown up for me, running interference on healthcare, legal issues, retirement, etc, offering to fix the flowers on my deck because she knows how much I love sitting out there and of course holding me while I heaved with sobs like a little girl, wrapping her motherly arms around me until I remembered that everything would be okay.