Saturday, May 21, 2005

Everybody Was Kung-Fu Fighting

Gloria said she was going to a Lavender Festival.

lav·en·der ( P ) Pronunciation Key (lvn-dr)n.
1. a. Any of various aromatic Old World plants of the genus Lavandula, especially L. angustifolia, having clusters of small purplish flowers that yield an oil used in perfumery.
1 b. The fragrant dried leaves, stems, and flowers of this plant.
2. pale to light purple to very light or very pale violet.

WHAT THE…?

"It's an affair, isn't it?" I asked. "It must be an affair, because I refuse to believe that Lavender Festivals exist. It's just some crude deception to hide your affair with Tony the Pool Boy."

"I broke it off with him last week," she said. Damn her, she’s good.

“Do you tailgate before you go to this thing?” I asked. “Are you going to quilt and drink beer in the cul-de-sac?”

“No, we’ll make homemade soap,” she answered. Damn her, she’s good again.

“What happens at a lavender festival? Is there a best in show contest? Do people breed lavender and then bring in bundles on leashes, dragging it behind them as they run through a little obstacle course?”

“So many questions, so little time,” she said, walking up the stairs.

“But wait!” I shouted after her. “I want you to bring me home a piece of lavender-fried chicken!”

This festival trip was sort of a birthday gift to one of her friends. And it was an hour-and-a-half drive each way, so Eli 3.9 and I spent most of the day together.

It was a delightful spring day in Texas—ninety-eight freaking degrees and six hundred per cent humidity. I know that’s theoretically impossible, but you don’t live here. We were at the park by 9:30, and inside half an hour we both decided that it was too hot to be fun. So we went to Krispy Kreme and watched how doughnuts get made, which I’d wanted to show him for quite a while.

With Eli, everything is funny, which makes it really enjoyable to hang out with him. We were in the bathroom at EZ’s, which is an excellent burger joint, and the paper towel dispenser had a motion detector. When I’m by myself, that means nothing. With Eli, it means five minutes of doing Kung-Fu movie poses in front of the paper towel dispenser, bursting into laughter each time it coughs up a towel.

That was the best part of my day—five minutes in front of a paper towel dispenser.

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