12/09/98
Relationship Issues

Last Friday night found me, Sonya and Jen cruising out to Bartlett to see Velvet Goldmine, the latest Ewan McGregor full frontal nudity extravaganza. An odd, wonderful movie; it was very much the specific vision of the director. If you didn't get it, tough. I liked it, though. Toni Collette, who was so marvellously frumpy in Muriel's Wedding, is a total, unattainable sexpot. Really, everyone in the movie is beautiful. I recommend it.

And yes, as Jen and Sonya repeatedly pointed out, Ewan is a turtleneck type of guy.

After the movie we went back to our apartment after a quick pit-stop at Blockbuster music, where Sonya picked up the VG soundtrack and the first Duran Duran album. I wrapped the Duran the next day and popped it under the tree - instant gift! I got Big Star's first two albums on one CD. I'm a sucker for Memphis music.

Anyway, back at the apartment we start sucking down wine and rum and playing Apeiron, which is a Centipede-On-Steroids kinda game that is hugely fun. I like it, Jen likes it...James and Sonya, though, are the Uber-Apeironists, totally dominating the high-score screen. Currently James has the high score. That won't last long, though. Sonya does own the damned game, after all.

Finally, we went to bed at about two or so. I woke Sonya up about two hours later to work on some....um...relationship issues. That was lovely, of course, but seeing as how we had to be at the Porter-Leath house at nine the next morning, well...it wasn't the smartest move.

One of Sonya's co-workers got Sonya to volunteer to decorate a Christmas tree. Sonya got me to volunteer, too, by telling me (as she had been told) that we would be decorating a tree at the Lowenstein mansion, a rambling Victorian on Jefferson that has always intrigued me. Since Sonya's burst of volunteerism, though, she's found out that:

A) the tree was not in the Lowenstein mansion at all,

B) we'd need to be there at nine on a Saturday morning, and

C) we'd have to work with volunteering teenagers.

So Saturday morning we set out, looking for the intersection of Danny Thomas and Chelsea. For those of you lacking Memphis geographical knowledge, Danny Thomas is right down the street from my house. Chelsea, though...Chelsea is one of those vague Memphis streets that I only ever seem to hear about on the news.

"The fire started here, at this apartment building on Chelsea."

"The bodies were found in this small house on Chelsea."

"Businesses on Chelsea have experienced a string of robberies."

My perceptions of the neighborhood fit the reality very nicely, thank you. The Porter-Leath House is a beautiful old rambling farmhouse/mansion/dorm/school type affair, about 150 years old or so. Some parts are obviously used every day, while I managed to wander off and explore a storage area that was terribly neglected. The most interesting part was a bathroom I found with ancient fixtures and black-painted walls. It was too cool.

Anyway, we got the tree decorated. The teenagers were fairly attitudinal, which was no surprise. Kathy and Robbie were there, too, working on the same tree as us.

Robbie's a cool kid, very smart, and absolutely impossible to control. It's like being in the same room with the Tasmanian Devil. The problem is he's six, so his head and shoulders are at crotch height. At least on me, anyway. Any time he's within a few feet I have to be on my guard lest I catch a fist, shoulder or headbutt in the old 'nads.

At one point I had hold of his wrists and was keeping him at arm's length just so I could relax my guard for a minute.

"You better calm down, Robbie," I warned, "or your mom's going to fuss at you."

He grinned up at me savagely. "No, she won't!"

"What, don't you believe me?"

"Nope!"

And he knew Kathy would yell at him - he just denied it. You've got to admire someone who's so determined to do their own thing. Especially when they risk an ass-whuppin'.

And speaking of ass-whuppin' - did anyone happen to see the Saints-Cowboys game Sunday? It was so sweet, watching the Saints shut down the pompous Texan felons.





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