...ends with a new addition to my vocabulary. Maybe Nick and Courtney know this word, "multifarious," because they've been studying for the GRE. I discovered it today. Multifarious is having many varied parts or aspects. That describes my weekend perfectly. Let me break it down for you.
Friday night: Arrive at my mom's house. She is not there. However, my 18 year old brother and 20 other members of his high school are. They are having a small party in the backyard. The teenage girls are screaming shrilly every minute or so...probably some dense web of high school flirtation being played out within my earshot. I just know it is extremely annoying. All these girls seem to be shallower than a puddle (and by the way...very "pretty"...if perfect blonde hair...and thin...and wearing juicy couture...is your style). My respect for my brother is plummeting quickly. I overhear a thickly "valley-girl" accented voice tell the shocking news that "so-and-so is an atheist!" and watched the registered shock hit the other girls faces. How much damage will these girls do to the name of "Chrisitan?" I shiver to wonder at it.
Saturday morning: 6AM wake up. entirely too early. My sister and a friend from OU are competing in the "Old College Tri," a local triathlon. I'm to be their photographer. Kara, the friend, is very nervous because she has never done a triathlon before. I would have been nervous too. 300 meters of swimming, 13 miles of biking, and 3 miles of running. basically 5 hours of non-stop gut-wrenching exercisers. Your surrounded by major muscles and super fit people, that make you feel in comparison like jello jigglers. Yet, I had a good time. This was more of an amateur contest. My sister and I (after she finished....wonder woman that she is) stood about 400 meters from the finish line and cheered/whooped everyone as they slowly sauntered along. That was a blast! Darby teared up...she thinks its really precious to see them get some energy from the cheers.
Saturday evening: Visit with old youth minister! And she is going to support me for France! Then I went to the Village Church with her. Oh it was a wonderful respite from the dry crunchy church environment out in east Texas. It was a nice glass of cold water.
Saturday night: Teach my grandmother how to use a DVD player. Have to explain to her that the menu display is not the movie playing.
Sunday morning: attend the 39ers Sunday School with my grandmother. 39ers seems to describe the year that the members of this class were born. although my grandmother was born in the 20's. so maybe they were older. they certainly were a wrinkly, well-dressed, old bunch. They were lovely, of course, and I gleaned wisdom from their slowly spoken exchanges. At one point the withered teacher asked if anyone knew a certain fact...and another old grandpa stuttered..."why don't we google it?" WoW! I am impressed, they all knew how to google?
AND I actually sat in front of Mel Brewer, founder of Sky Ranch, in the church service. He wore a faded banana-yellow leisure suit. Shook my hand and was very glad to see me. He is so cute!
Sunday afternoon: visit my other grandparents. Peep and Pop. Pop always cooks something extravagant when I come over. Even though he can hardly walk. This time it was crawfish étouffée. He can't chop things anymore...really he can only stir the cauldron of cajun goo. So Peep and I were running around to do his culinary bidding. Cut this, Peep. Open this, Shannon. Hand me the green chiles. One of the most important aspects of this dish...the ingredient that really makes it superb...is the roux, a mixture of fat (esp. butter) and flour used in making sauces. Anyway, my Pop is obsessive about his roux. He and Peep continually antagonize each other in comic exchanges as they scurry about. (or really Peep scurries and Pop sits on his chair...stirring above the oven).
Pop: Aren't you finished cutting the onions, yet. Hurry up!
Peep: I can't hurry! If I went any faster I would cut my finger!
Pop: Oh don't do that. It would ruin my roux.
Peep: I'm not talking to you anymore today.
(5 seconds later)
Peep: What time is it?
Pop: I'm not going to tell you.
Later that night he called her his "sweetie-cutie." They are a pair.
Monday at butt-crack of dawn: Could anything more random happen this weekend? ...I ponder in a surgery waiting room...while my brother goes under the knife.