Ladies and Gentlemen, it’s time for the Lindsey Show!
At this moment, you’re thinking that the car accident must’ve jarred my brain, and I’ve forgotten my name, and that last week we had ended on a cliff overlooking the dreadful Puddle of Pain. How could I forget these important details?!
No car accident yet invented could erase you from my mind. And yes, I still know my name is Ms. Frederica Horglesnop. That is not a name that is easily forgotten, believe me, I have tried.
At any rate, we take up the tale at the point where I have arrived home to face the challenges of having to share the terrible truth with someone else. Once I proclaim it out loud, it becomes solid, a tangible and horrible reality.
Reality is incredibly inconvenient.
The good news is that reality can be muted for a short time if it is observed through the goggles of fermented beverages. I immediately took my sister up on her sympathetic offer of a visit to the land of food and ferment, where people will bring you yummy things, and I am rescued from having to carefully pile the plates in the sink and can avoid the hazards of possibly shifting the precariously balanced tower of unwashed dishes. Not that I have ever seen such a monument in my house.
We were seated across from a young family, mom, dad, baby, and a little girl about two years old. They had mostly finished their meal, and were relaxing, having a night away from home, where there could not possibly be piles of laundry taller than Big Bird, and the dishes were probably all spotless. I find myself jealous of their imaginary house.
As I watched the scene, the little girl noticed me. She cocked her head to one side, and then pivoted toward me as if asking me whether I was noticing her. I mirrored her motion, and she grinned from ear to ear. She straightened her head, and then put her thumbs together and her forefingers together in a triangle shape, and peered into her finger teepee, and aimed it at me. I teepee’d her right back. The teepee became a side-wave gesture, and that one, too, was followed.
Then, she was stumped. No other gestures occurred to her. So, I helped her out by raising both arms straight up in the air and making a look of surprise. The charming toddler burst into delighted laughter.
Charismatic two-year olds proved far superior to adult beverages this day.
At this moment, her father, amused by the proceedings said, “It’s a pity she’s so shy, isn’t it?”
A few minutes later, the youngster decided it was time for animated conversation, and became incredibly chatty, asking questions pointing to things, and reciting bits of knowledge she had gleaned. Her father turned to no one in particular, and announced “Ladies and Gentlemen, it’s time for ‘The Lindsey Show!”
I told him it was a pretty good show, and I hoped it would be renewed for years to come.
Having gained a touch of perspective through babies and beer, I could put reality on the shelf for the night, and pick it up again another day. And that is where I shall put this story for now. In next week’s exciting conclusion, the tale becomes one of unexpected outcomes.