Although an intrinsically gentle soul, I appear to have spent a large percentage of this weekend dealing with, and arguing with, and showing no sympathy toward butt-hurt sooks. As a result, I can add to the list of Strange Things I've Been Called this entry: 'Snotty Nosed Alleged Solicitor'. I've actually been called better (or worse, depending on your viewpoint), but this is an odd one. The name-caller went on to tell me I sit in an ottoman sipping my fine red. Uh, I don't have an ottoman to sit on OR in, and I haven't touched alcohol in weeks so there has been no fine red gracing my palate (nor a coarse one, for that matter). But people who perpetuate spurious rhetoric and bilious bilge do make me hanker to break my sobriety.
I've not had a chance to write here for a few days. I have trying to work through the edited manuscript my publisher has forwarded me for my upcoming release 'Howling On A Concrete Moon', as well as the 1001 things we parents must do. But last night I partook in a trivia match at a local club, when I finished my night medication run (for those of you not in the loop, although an author, my current paid employment is as an AIN - the reason some petulant curmudgeon called me a 'snotty nosed alleged solicitor' is because I have a staunch background in criminal law and a propensity to use big words). It was a tad crowded and noisy there because my team were seated next to a table comprising the local netball team celebrating coming second in the grand final. The cacophony of shrieks and squawks were reminiscent of an aviary of cockatoos who had been snorting the finest Bolivian booger-sugar. Oh, the racket was unbearable, my friends! I dread to imagine what it would have been like had they actually WON the grand final. But at least they weren't cheating, unlike the motherfucker at another table who was googling on his phone all night. But his cheating brought him and his team of slimy slugs undone when the host was announcing the winners. He told them they would have placed second but because they had been cheating, they wouldn't get a prize. And - *taking a second to buff nails* - my team won the game.
Today was spent with family as my niece's daughter was baptised. I am not in the habit of regular church attendance, and therefore my children have been under-educated in the customs and rituals of the Catholic faith. I took Master 12 though the steps of self-beatification with the Holy Water upon entry to the Church. He dipped those little fingers of his and his cute mouth formed a moue of utter discomfort. 'Mu-um!' he hissed. 'This water's freezing!'
He then expressed concern about the hygiene of the Holy Water on the basis other people had been dipping their fingers in, fingers that might have had dried boogers encrusted under the nails. This is probably a valid point.
My grand-niece was scheduled to be welcomed into the Church after the Sunday Mass service, so when the usual communicants had left, my family made our way to the front pews. As mentioned, I do not make a habit of attending the local church, and I am unsure which saints the parish goes ga-ga over. Inspection of one of the statues, set in a little nook high up on the wall behind the altar, leads me to believe it is Saint Matthew the Evangelist; the figure is depicted holding a long upright staff with a small purse tied to it. The purse is quite a work of craftsmanship - it has bulges and wrinkles like a real drawstring purse. Kudos to the artist. However, from where we sat, it was a rather amorphous looking object with little bumps and bulges. Master 12 leaned over and whispered as he pointed to the statue, 'Mum, why does Jesus have a grenade stuck to a stick?' Many giggles and chuckles later, I have had the chance to explain to my kid that statue is probably Saint Matthew the Evangelist, who was allegedly a collector of taxes, which is why he is often depicted with a purse or a bag of money. But I must say, in dim light and from a distance, it did look like it might be a statue of Our Lord about to hoik a frag with a stick, kind of like the principle of a catapult. This is of course one way to drive the money makers from the temple!
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