Continuation of a murder, planned.

Roland hugged his wife a bit longer then he realized he ever had.

"Heh then Mr. BigBear!" she said, unreturning the hug in the kitchen. She had on her kitchen mits from checking the meatloaf and did not feel that it was appropriate. So instead, she smiled at the attention her husband showed and responded, "must have been a rough Bible study."

"Huh? No, no, no, it was fine, the usual Thursday night fights. But I luckily had someone to come home to. The biddies are probably still there plotting something involving a verse or two."

"Did you let them know we can't do the bake sale this weekend?"

"No, sweetie, totally spaced it, totally. I can call Marcie right now," he started to pick the phone on his hip. In one swoop, Alanna had rotated and used the motion to toss her oven mitt in the direction of the sink. She approached the sliding back door and hollerated through a opening of no less then 5 inches.

"DINNER! BRY! DECLAN! NOW!" Only her emphasis made it sound more like 'knee-ow.' It was her personal trademark with the boys.

Roland did not have enough time to put his finger into his ear so elected to call Marcie's house after dinner.

"You."

"Wha?" Roland knew what she was going to say, and started to the sink. It was the game that all couples play--giving one the sensation that they were still in control of something in their lives.

"Wash up and get to the table."

He wanted not to, just to see if she could handle it without yelling.

But tonight was not the night.

The boys circled the table twice before sitting down, touching each rung of the high backed dining room chairs. Roland was surprised that they had any such civil disobidence when they ate in this room. He had an immaculate way of following up this bad behavior.

"BOYS." He stated it and then just imagined the rest of the command. He did not make eye contact.

They sat in their required seats.

"Are you going to say grace, honey?"

Both boys looked to their shoes as the light steam of the fresh meatloaf and green beans floated between them and their parents in a wall of white.

"Thank You, Lord for blessing us with this food. We thank You for always providing for our needs. Thank you for mom who prepared this meal for us. We ask that You would bless this food to our bodies. Thank You, Father, for each person who shares this meal with us today. We ask in Jesus’ name, amen, " he paused and looked through his eyebrows.

"Amen" the boys stated without making eye contact.

The meal was like every other. Talk circled around the usual safe topics. Work was heck, Alanna continued from the previous dinner, and no one respected to her. She supposed it was that they were all Jewish and just did not under her. The boys followed up with the usual admission that there was no homework and school was fine. Further prodding eluded little else.

"What were you guys doing outside just now?"

Both boys looked at each other.

"Playing with Nicholas over at the street corner. Water's backed up."

"Probably shouldn't do that, it could be dirty," Roland was proud he had a moment to do the 'dad-thing' every once and awhile.

"And Nicholas," Declan looked right at hsi father. "He said that guy up the street was a faggot. A total faggot, Dad. And isn't that a bad word?"

"We will NOT have that word spoken at the table, young man!" Alanna did not look at her son. The words came out as if rehearsed. It was as if she was supposed to say that-but did not totally understand why.

"I agree with your mother. Faggot is not acceptable. Which man?" Roland knew.

to be continued (my hand kinda hurts...)

Just a quick update

It says here that the last time I posted was back in April, and that sounds about right. I have to admit, I didn't like the journal entries that were recommended to me for today; I'm just not feeling the motivation for fiction right now. But, at the same time, I needed to update everyone on who I'm doing.

I had surgery. And it looks like the winner of the whole event is, well, pain.

I had pain going in. And with all the ranting and raving of my family and friends, apparently, the pain is supposed to stop after the surgery. I neglected to ask WHEN that would be. So here I am, unable to really twist my wrist at all--and buttering myself with Aleve and Tylenol.

I hate it.

But I am glad I went through with all this. I'd ever experienced, really "surgery" before. Some observations:

1. Nurses are better then doctors. I've never seen so many people who knew what was going on with me better then I did and were able to respond in kind. After not eating for 24 hours (and being a larger man at 260 pounds, this is like trying to kill myself), my first request out of coming out was food. Then it was pain meds. Then it was get my a bucket, I'm going to vomit because of the food and pain meds. They were on it. Humorously, they could not hold back their fear if I ended up puking. Again, they were not as big as I am. They admitted freely that if I were going to wretch, they might have to dart me in the ass to calm me down.

2. Homophobia still exists. I was just reading a book about how everyone percieves that homosexuality is on the rise and it shows the decline of western civilization. Then the professor goes on to show how the same statement, usually used by church officials, has been used since the 1700s. I bring this up because my apparently (I didn't realize this) homophobic doctor ignored my husband the entire time. Hmmm. There's an irony too. The lady who did the intake for me had a few hundred Bible verses splayed before her on her desk and was reading a Bible on her breaks. She had three crosses around her neck. And she knew that Big D and I were partnered. Not only did she speak to us as equals without a put down, she included him and speak directly to him about his role in the entire process.

3. I am truly a writer. I looked down on the table and noticed that it looked EXACTLY like the table used in Texas lethal injection gurneys. And my hand was strapped in as such.

4. I've been light headed ever since and it's becoming MORE of a bother, not less.

5. The pain at first, was a constant. All of my energy went to pain management. However, as the week moved on, it fluxed up and down. Still doing it.

6. My immune system has been compramised and now my meds are hiding the fact I have a cold or a flu of some sort. Interesting.

7. I've had a hankering to go to church. Badly. Being able to be medically manipulated like that--hmmm. That scared teh bejabbers out of me. And feeling so helpless, well, enough is enough. I think it might be time to get a bit of prayer back in my life.

8. I need to go to Disney park, period. I need to escape this reality for a short period, if not a long one. I think I might set those things in motion.
Okay, so I've written. Now to move to something more creative, and I hope to post.