It’s cold, rainy and brutally depressing here in the North East. Yay. It’s been a long hard week, Interwebz.
Just to recap, it all started with a relaxing dinner where I sucked royally at preparing a family friend for his first round of chemo. Then I held my friend’s hand as she looked at her sweet dog’s unmoving body riddled with tubes and had to make the tough decision to let her best friend go. Last night I traded war stories with a fellow Lymphoma survivor over one too many glasses of wine. If you’re keeping count, that’s a whole mess o’ traumatic flashbacks for this gal.
I’ve also managed to get myself sick. The week I’ve had coupled with today being Friday the 13th had me planning on laying low and embracing my inner vegetable. Why tempt the fates? I was going to bust out my full wallowing regalia (complete with my fuzzy velour tracksuit a la Jennifer Lopez in 2000) and watch Twilight for the 917th time while drinking hot tea and blowing phlegm into whatever absorbent material was near. I was toying with skipping today’s blog post all together – GASP!
But then I went traipsing on over to another blogger’s site and found an excuse to use a photo I’d taken eons ago but had yet to use. She’s calling her new Friday ritual “Flashback Friday.”
Find an old picture and share a story about it or why you wanted to share it now. Flashback Friday has no real rules other than to have fun.
I like fun. I suck with rules. She might be my soul mate. Dude, I’m in.
Sure, her photo is nine years old and mine is not even nine months. There are no real rules, remember? I’m not sure there are even fake ones – so game on.
I know. There are no words, right? Yeah, I thought that, too. But then I decided it’s rather silly to post things on your blog that you can’t write about. So I came up with some words. Here’s three to start you off: WHAT, THE, and FUCK (question mark optional).
It’s just plain weird. And disturbing. And a little bit funny. Ok, mostly funny. (Pause to nervously look out window to check for sudden bolts of lighting that might strike my ass down for blasphemy.)
We were just cruising on down the highway as we headed towards Dayton, sipping our water, minding our own business. Rocco howled a particularly painful note never before heard by human ears while bopping along to Borderline. Reflexively I turned towards the window to shelter my one good ear from the onslaught. There He was.
He filled the entire window in all His concrete splendor. I blinked once…twice…still there. As the shock passed, the giggles erupted in waves. I paused briefly to peer through the sunroof, searching for thunder clouds in the bright blue empty sky. Reassured, I giggled some more. “We HAVE to get a picture of Him on the way back to Cincinnati,” I sighed wistfully.
I can’t decide if he’s coming out of the water like some slinky supermodel emerging from a swimming pool in a beer commercial, or if he’s sinking into a pit of quicksand. Then again, maybe it was a really impressive field goal. I suspect I’m missing some deeper meaning here.
I applaud their bravery and disregard for convention. Most people with man-made ponds would limit themselves to EITHER a fountain OR a giant three-story sculpture of their Lord and Savior. Kudos to you, Random Highway Church in Ohio. You just go ahead and have BOTH.
I tell you, this is going to be the next “it” thing for the lawn and garden set. Half Jesus-es are going to be popping up in yards all over the Midwest. Maybe they’ll even produce little mini ones for us city dwellers to shove into our one potted plant rapidly turning yellow from lack of sunlight.
I didn’t get the chance to see Him after dark, but I’m quite curious. Do they stick with a plain wash of white or do they douse Him with red spotlights for a fully terrifying effect? Do you think on Sunday they synchronize the fountains for a water works show reminiscent of the Bellagio in Vegas? Oye.
Woof. Aren’t you glad I didn’t slack off today afterall? How could you have made it to the weekend without a peek at that photo. You’re welcome and Amen.