Her

After she read the e-mail she crept upstairs, hearing each slight creak of wood as if it were thunder. She was in the precarious position of desiring David and yet still feeling some fraction of herself drawn to H. Could a person exist in fractions? She did not know. This was the first time that she felt that she’d truly been in love.

She brushed her teeth vigorously, in round small circles. Most days she thought she had a pretty face. 

Though sometimes it would surprise her, the small nose and pale skin of her reflection rising up to meet her, was she really so white? At night, David would cup her chin in his hands and tell her that she was beautiful, running his fingers along her cheeks and across her lips. And in those moments she could almost believe that she was pretty, though some small part of her always stood back, reserving judgment for some later day.

The top floor of the house was warm in the evenings. David kept the window of his room open, and the smell of honeysuckle would drift in and out with the wind. They had established a kind of routine after five days. She’d knock on the door of his room after the lights were out, so the two of them could process the day. Really, the first night she’d only meant to process the day. Certainly, her mind was capable of wandering elsewhere, but she’d intended to speak only of what his mother thought of her, and how his father laughed so easily. Really, her mind was always in two places. His room was no exception.

She said, “I think I’m falling in love with you,” lying sideways across the bed, her head resting in his lap.

His eyes were alight when he responded in kind. And, in the occasionally beautiful wisdom of the young, they had the good sense to stay silent afterward, to let the gravity of the moment wash over them. Later, they talked of his parents.

“I’ve always loved my father,” he said, absently stroking her hair. “My first memory is of my father. I can feel the sun on my back, and I’m walking across the grass towards my father, and he’s leaning down to pick me up, his hands impossibly large and warm. I don’t know. I might have made it up.”

“That’s strange to me, though I’m glad you have it. I like everyone in your family. It’s like watching the pieces of a puzzle that fit together perfectly.”

“We’re not always perfect.” 

“Of course not. It’s just that my dad was really different than yours. If I had a real first memory of him it would be of him reading the newspaper, very quietly.”

They talked in this way for a while, of family and the way things were before they knew each other and world was set aright. The feel of his fingers on her clavicle was electric. It was as if the wings of a butterfly were flapping against her skin. And beneath that giddy feeling of his touch was another feeling, more violent that she felt herself struggling to control. Perhaps he only wanted to kiss her. Perhaps she only wanted to be kissed. 

MSN Mondays: Top 20 Wedding Guest Complaints and how to avoid them

I've been in eleven weddings. This means that I'm rarely the one complaining about how the wedding is going. I'm at the head table, or near it, eating first, two to three glasses of wine into the evening by the time you're discovering that the seating chart has placed you next to the groom's third cousin, who is a cat. That said, I've been at enough weddings to know every complaint that could ever be uttered. In no particular order.

1) There isn't an open bar. In fact, no one ever has an open bar at their wedding because open bars cost roughly 100,000 dollars for one evening in which you discover that everyone you invited to your wedding is a drunkard and the only upshot of the open bar is that you wind up with a few guests getting belligerent or weird, which isn't really what you want on your special day. This complaint can be disregarded. Just buy enough cheap bottles of wine to keep the guests mumbling to a minimum.

2) The seating chart is off. Here is the only thing you need to know about making a seating chart, put people who know and at least to the best of your knowledge like each other near each other. Do not create a table of people who you think might really hit it off. No one wants to hit it off at a wedding. They want to be sitting next to their friends remembering all the good times they used to have, not wondering why they are making small talk about a trip they once took to Ohio.

3) The wedding venue is too hot, cold, sandy. Get married inside where God can see you, you heathen. It's never too hot or too cold in a church, except when it occasionally is. But normally heat and AC make it a palatable place for your nuptials to take place. If you want to get married outside move to Oregon with the rest of the hippies and stop inviting us to your wedding. No beach weddings. I effing hate sand and so does everyone else. I'll be finding it in my car's floor mat for weeks. (I've been to a lot of outdoor weddings, and I've loved all of them. Each of your weddings was the exception to the above listed rule. Apply this rule to every complain that I have about a wedding and remember that it didn't apply to yours, which I loved).

4) Destination weddings. No one cares about this day as much as you. Don't make your friends fly to Prague to see you get hitched only for them to end up face down in a gutter by the end of the week because they wanted to make the most out of the trip. Get married in the most convenient location for the most people or wherever the girl is from of wherever you're closest to as a couple now. If you invite me to Venice, I'll go, but I won't be happy. But seriously, go ahead and invite me.

5) They just don't see it. That's fine. They can take their bad attitudes about the woman that you're committing yourself to and move it along as opposed to drinking up all your Charles Shaw and spending the night complaining about you or the love of your life, or year, or decade or whatever.

6) They don't understand why you wrote your own vows when God already got it right when he wrote The Book of Common Prayer. Listen, mostly I'm with them. You better knock these vows out of the park because you've chosen to be on the big stage, so don't mess it up. If it isn't pithy and doesn't make me tear up or laugh then forget it.

7) Some of the toasts were a bit too risque. This is not a problem. The only way a toast can be ruined is by excessive sentimentality. A toast is a time to make everyone laugh a bit, prod some gentle fun at the bride and groom before winding up with something slightly sentimental that leaves everyone thinking that you really get it. Toasts are easy.

8) The music is terrible. Please, don't play terrible music. If you get a DJ, go ahead and let that DJ do his thing and mix in some up beat tunes. Wedding music is usually pretty great because everyone knows the songs and it's one of those rare times when different generations are actually dancing together and you get to see how awesome your uncle's quick step is. Don't mess that up by playing too many instrumentals or slow song after slow song.

9) The ice sculpture that you painstakingly carved for nights on end of your beloved looks more like a mixture of Mr. Tumnus and a sea gull than a real person. Have these people ever tried to work with pure ice? I'd guess not. Even ending up with something that doesn't look like an oversized ice cub is an accomplishment. I'd like to see them try and make an ice sculpture.

10) Their ex is at the wedding. Why did you invite them? Well, you invited them because you liked them both a great deal and don't think that because they broke up that you can't invite them both. Hell, you barely see them and all they're asking is that the two of you get together for one evening and behave civilly, or get back together and regret it in the morning or whatever floats your boat. Have you had a glass of wine yet?

11) The orca whales didn't stay for the entire reception. What? Is this ancient Rome? Are you not entertained? Wasn't it enough that they came at all? If you had to do it over again would you have one of them fight a Siberian tiger on a man made lagoon during the reception? Sure. But hindsight is twenty twenty. Stop whining.

12) There isn't dancing. Why even get married? What's the point? It's a big dance party with free booze and everyone is the star. Don't you take that moment away from them. Don't you dare.

13)  It takes like two hours to get to the food at the reception. You've paid your caterer enough to figure out when to excuse tables. Don't leave older folks who wish they already asleep waiting around to get a bite of salad at five o'clock and certainly don't leave your younger friends without some solid food to wash down all that liquor or there will be hell to pay. Also, you've paid them enough to treat those people like Gordon Ramsey on crack. Get into them or there will be hell to pay. Everyone eats, and they eat quickly.

14) You're taking your pictures after the wedding. This can be fine or awful. As long as your photographer is being paid what they deserve and understands that people are waiting. By all means, shoot away. However, if it is a 1.5 hour destination shoot, let's remember grandpa and grandma and take a few family pictures ahead of time if we don't want to see the bride.

15) The impersonator that you paid to actually get married on your behalf turns out to be a bit of a lech. This has happened to all of us. You get cold feet at the last second and wind up paying someone else to make a  commitment for the rest of your natural life that you just can't get into right now because you're in Vegas at the craps table. But then that guy turns out to be kind of lecherous. Super awkward, and totally avoidable. Do your research ahead of time.

16) The Nicoise salad has old Tuna on it. If there were a ranking, messing up on the nicoise salad would probably be complaint number one of your average wedding guest. Don't mess this up at your wedding.

17) You had spare decorations and in an effort to save money wound up using spare Bachelorette party items instead of traditional decorations. Your aunt and uncle aren't going to think it's as hilarious to be drinking out of phallic straws. Just pay the extra for the nice flowers.

18) You forgot to invite them to your wedding. Yeah, yeah, so you grew up together, but you stopped being friends like two years ago. And deep down you suspected that they never really liked your or that you never really liked them, and also, have you seen the price for an open bar? Anyway, it was a numbers thing. Call me sometime. We'll catch up on Facebook.

19) You jumped out of the wedding cake in the nude and performed a rendition of Boyz II Men's I'll Make Love to You, which apparently some people found tasteless. Well I'll tell you what's tasteless, that suit coat with four buttons, amirite? Deep down, they enjoyed the show, and it's your day dammit.

20) We’ve Queen Victoria to thank for the tradition of the bride wearing white. We’re also to thank her for the presence of bridesmaids to carry the train. And, it becomes quickly apparent why the woman had an entire era of western literature named in her honor. She’s commandeered at least two major elements of the most momentous day in people’s lives, or at least the day with the most riding on it.

Samuel Johnson said of his friend Thomas Carlyle, “It was a blessing that he and his wife Jane married one another: thereby making only two people unhappy, rather than four.”

 My wife wore a semi-cathedral length train. I can only discern that from the pictures. The memories of my wedding day are scattered, like the page of a magazine swept by the wind. And yet, it seems to me that the tradition of carrying the wedding train into the church was a false step, an apt metaphor lost.Marriage is a mixture of the sacred and the profane. The train, dragged along the floor, gathering bits of grime on its route is symbolic of what’s to come.

Here is my ideal wedding: I’d like to see an argument over whether divorced parents are sitting far enough away. I’d like to see the bride and groom argue over how much they’re paying the band followed by a conversation about contributions to a 403b. I’d like to see a first dance where the groom breakdances and the bride waltzes around him in perfect timing. In short, I’d like to see people begin that damned honorable and difficult pastime of being married for all of us to see. And let the train’s dirty hem be the first sign.

Perhaps the day is better described in this way:  It was like boarding a train in the middle of the night, finding oneself a comfortable seat straight away and leaning against the cool window, falling into a deep slumber.  And then slithering through the night, passing through cities with names you don’t know, passing by the darkened windows of cathedrals from another era and arriving at the end of the line, awakened by a shake on the shoulder, quickly wiping the drool from the window, hoping that only you were privy to the indignity of existence before stepping out into the caesious morning light, trying to make sense of this new city, with gables on all the doorways, and serpentine streets with peculiar names, and all the women walking quickly in large straw hats. Here I am, you say, and begin walking across the cobbles. 

Game of Thrones

That happened. The death of Joffrey, the most highly anticipated television event since Ross and Rachel finally getting together, happened this week on GOT and it was...anticlimactic. I'm certain that some unraveling will have to take place in order to figure out if it was the pie or the wine or the insufferable obnoxiousness (that actor was really quite wonderful at being horrendous, and I'll miss him in a weird way) that caused his death, but I think I speak for everyone when I say that I expected him to be killed by Arya, Tyrion, White Walker Ned Stark, Jon Snow, and one of those wolves that's still alive all at once. This was somewhat of a letdown. 

I suppose I should unravel the rest of the knot first. Naturally we started with Roose Bolton's bastard son, otherwise known as Satan, hunting some girl in the woods and this is no Surviving the Game kind of hunt, it's more the vicious murder type of hunt that leaves you feeling less fulfilled. At least we know he doesn't dislike every woman. And, sadly, we learn that Theon's name has been changed to reek. Can we change it back to Theon? He can still grovel and betray his kinfolk, but can we just call him Theon while he does it? Also, can he wear Rob's wolf head when he does it? No. Oh well. And now that Joffrey is gone, lil bastard Bolton takes up the lead in the "guy who we'll be most satisfied to see killed off soon award." It's a great award. 

Eventually the action shifts to Bran, who appears to be around 24 now, as he gets sledded around in the wilderness while dreaming of eating things like a wolf. As much of a fantasy trope as warging is, I'm not sure it's working. I'd be much happier to spend a bit more time overseas with Daenyrs or watching Breanne fall in love with Jamie than watching Hodor carry Bran around on his vision quest. I'd be worried about Hodor's ability to carry Bran throughout the rest of this journey except that I've seen is penis, which looks large enough to carry around 250 pounds no problem. Is it just me or did it sound like zombie Ned Stark was hiding himself under a tree? Maybe I could be talked into this storyline, if it stopped kind of sucking and started being fun like a Lannister. 

We also got a nice scene with Stannis and the Red Woman having a cook out on the beach where they served up some human flesh. However, this is not the first time we've witnessed such a scene, and it's lost a bit of its novelty. Though I'll never tire of the Onion Knight quietly reminding people that maybe, just maybe, they shouldn't keep burning all of their allies. And then we saw Melisandre telling a little girl how bad her life was, which is pretty much what none of us want to see. We pretty much have this little girl and Rikon, wherever the hell Rikon is, to hang our hats on in terms of innocence, and I swear if Melisandre effs this up I'm going to set Roose Bolton's bastard on her. In short, the main story was in King's Landing, which is all well and good as Stannis and Bran are two of the less interesting stories going on right now. 

The rest of the episode was primarily focused in King's Landing and on the wedding of the king. We got to see Cersei display some of her classic pettiness in insisting that the food be fed to the dogs instead of the poor people. We got to see Loras, who's been hounded for his love of men, get in a nice jab at Jamie for his love of his sister, and yes, I'd be willing to watch a season of the two of them out on the road taking jabs at one another. No pun intended. The ominous scene where Joffrey enlisted the help of other midgets to wage the war of the Five Kings was well-played, as it was a reminder of just how many people he'd been cruel to but also that his cruelty would never end that he took delight in it. 

There was, for pure pleasure on television, no better sight than Tyrion taking Joffrey down six pegs with his wit, making the mighty feel powerless and maybe revealing that he has a shot with Sansa after he sends Shea packing. And Tyrion is at his best in his final scene with Joffrey, deftly using his wit to bring Joffrey to his knees, which is unfortunately where Joffrey insists that Tyrion go in order to serve his wine. I'm not really asking who poisoned Joffrey, everyone in the audience owed him one, but it's interesting to think about in the context of the show, the vast whole now in King's Landing. We all knew that he was never one of the major players and was only taken seriously because he was the king, and yet, and yet, he was the king and now he's dead. It brings to a fitting end his rather short reign, since dragons and white walkers will soon be wandering throughout Westeros, Joffrey just wasn't cut out for a world like that. He was cut out for something more beautiful, a world in which every Stark child stabbed him in the eye. He was too beautiful for this world. 

Him

The trip was coming to a close. He had thought that driving across the country with his friend would change the way that he thought about the world. There was a romance that had grown up around traveling on the road. He'd probably have associated with Kerouac, but it had started eons ago, The Arabian Knights, The Canterbury Tales, hell, Socrates was always walking around when he was correcting the errors of others. The road was romantic. In the morning, they had a conversation about the middle east.

"I don't see how anyone can say that they definitively knew that we shouldn't have invaded Iraq. It's hindsight right? It's like watching old practices like the subjugation of women and claiming that you can't imagine that people ever thought that way. We find it nearly impossible to admit that we exist merely in this moment, that our views may be flawed and contingent and circumstantial. We always like to feel like we've temporarily discovered Paradise," Paul said, ashing a cigarette out the driver's side window .

H considered the low flat plains of Nevada before answering. He could not imagine anyone wanting to live here. He supposed that's why they had legalized prostitution and gambling. Perhaps vices would suffice to keep people interested. "I don't think we had any business in Iraq."

"But did you think it at the time of the invasion?"

"I don't remember."

"No one effing remembers. It's incredibly typical human behavior. You just know that the day after Mount Vesuvius erupted some assho-e in Rome was saying to his friend how he thought the volcano looked ominous the last time he was there. Why is it so hard for us to admit that we know next to nothing?"

"It's easier for some people than others. I'm quite comfortable admitting that other people know nothing. I'm constantly willing to grant that to them. The tough part is finding someone who will agree with you. I knew that we shouldn't go into Iraq because we didn't really know how to pronounce it."

"Are you honestly positing that as a viable reason for not invading?"

"Yes. And put out that damn cigarette. It's like driving in a toxic London fog."

"Stop trampling on my rights."

"Hear me out. If we had gone to war with Russia in the eighties, or I don't know, China in a decade or so. Fine, whatever. Of course, by fine whatever I mean end of life as we know it kind of fine, but at least we know we have an antagonist. Despite the previous war, we still didn't pronounce Iraq correctly. You can't just invade someone's homeland and kick the shi- out of them without at least knowing something about them. It would be like walking into your neighbor's house and reprogramming his DVR for the shows that you like, when he couldn't give a shi- about top chef."

"Top Chef is a good show."

"I'm not denying that."

"So, to continue the analogy, maybe you're bringing him some small portion of enlightenment, a quality tv program, democracy, what have you."

"What democracy was ever effectively implemented by invading a country, killing a bunch of people and then starting up a new election process?"

"Ours?"

"Not true." And so on for an hour or so.

They stopped in the early evening. Cacti lined the road, and they'd threatened one another for a while that they were going to stop at a whorehouse. They were never going to stop at a whorehouse. The desert was cold at night and unforgivingly hot during the day. They couldn't wait to be home. They stopped at a cheap hotel, though before going to bed H sneaked downstairs to write his family.

He wound up writing Lauren instead.

Hello. I hope all is well on the other side of this fine country. I should confess that all is not well out here. I fear this trip has been a failure. I don't know what I was expecting, but it wasn't this. It was something more. You can add that as the postscript for my life if you happen to be at my funeral, and this has already taken quite the turn towards the ominous. I wrote a story, and I wanted you to be the first one to read it because in some strange way you know me better than anyone in the world.

On Monday it rained laughter. And all the fathers in the street took off their hats and gathered every last bit of it inside them until they were overflowing. They put their overcoats on top and carried them home as quickly as they could. And on that particular day, all those strange, silent, men, sat down with their wives and children and told them they had a surprise. And then they took away the overcoats and all the houses in the city were filled with laughter. The lights stayed on until ten, and the children stayed up late as well, hugging their fathers, running their hands across their rough faces and marveling at the change they could see in their father's eyes. 

After the children had gone to bed the parents shared the last bit of laughter in bed, cupping it between their fingers to keep it quiet. They giggled as if they were young again, still in the process of discovering their bodies. And late into the night you could hear the creaking of bed frames and the cries of very lonely women. 

I don't know what this particular story is supposed to mean. In fact, I'm a little confused about meaning ever since the accident. As a religious person I should believe that had we died in that crash I'd at least have gone to a better place. So why am I so happy that I'm still alive, still smelling flowers in bloom, and diesel smoke, and driving just over the speed limit? Why is it still such a thrill to be alive? Do  you feel that way?

Her

In the evenings the family would gather in the dining room. Though portions of the family would sometimes be dispersed in the kitchen, baking or eating cookies, or in the family room reading over a book or a magazine. His father, Jack, was intelligent and warm. He asked the children questions about the world, inquiring after their thoughts on the role that the United States should be playing in other countries, or whether the singer on some television show as quite as good as everyone was telling him. He delighted in their responses, though often as not they weren't responses at all, but remonstrances to be left alone. Responses that he took light-heartedly asking if they'd prefer that he were Simon or Jacob or Isabelle, names he'd heard his children utter in passing and about whom he gently teased them.

Lauren's father was quiet and kind. A fact that she had not stood out until this trip. He did not inquire much after her personal or school life, preferring to leave these decisions, or so she thought, up to her. She could see now how her father could have been different, more involved in the day to day affairs of her life. Though she didn't know if that was something she would have liked. It was hard to say.

Often she would withdraw into herself, smiling outwardly, listening to the rattle and hum of conversation in the room while she considered the events of the day or studied David. She preferred it when he sat near her, holding her hand or running his fingers gently along the top of her knee. She delighted in his presence, in the reassurance that he brought her. She was beginning to feel a great deal of warmth towards his family. And yet, she was discovering that despite that warmth, in strange moments, when all of them would be laughing about something from their own shared past, they would remain strangers to her.

Every evening they had ice cream. In truth, some evenings she didn't want ice cream. She wanted to be able to go to bed without having eaten ice cream, though she knew then that she'd lie awake, her stomach slightly raw, wondering why she just hadn't eaten the damn ice cream. Life was full of little regrets. Around the time the time the ice cream was doled out someone usually turned on a television show or a movie. They had imperfect taste when it came to television shows. She liked it best when they watched what Elsa wanted to watch, Disney movies about princesses falling in love or horrendously scary cartoons like The Last Unicorn. There was a kind of nostalgia for her own childhood that was wrapped up in these movies. It made her feel subtly closer to home, and the enchantment of the movies where women fell in love was for the first time a mirror into her own life.

On the fifth night, before she went up to the bathroom to wash her teeth and prepare for bed, she logged into her e-mail and saw a message from the boy who'd been with her on the plane. She didn't click on it at first, reading something from her mother instead, a brief update about the goings on around home. Her father had taken up golf, though it was apparently a debatable choice. Her mother had started working part-time at the local library and was finding that it gave her a sense of purpose. These were all wonderful things, and yet she felt her heart rate lifting imperceptibly at the thought of the message that was waiting for her. She couldn't really remember what they'd talked about, but it seemed to her that their lives were threaded together now. Before she went upstairs she clicked on his name, hurriedly, excitedly: 

whoops, I locked my keys in the house: A DC adventure

 Let me begin as most glorious stories begin, at the beginning. According to physicists the Big Bang probably occurred around…too soon. Listen, before I leave the house I always check and make sure that I have my keys in my pocket. Okay, honestly, sometimes I don’t check until after I’ve locked the door. But listen, the keys are always in my pocket.

However, I always have my keys. Except, this time I didn’t have my keys. Luckily I had just put a sweatshirt and socks on baby Ian before leaving the house. I thought about not putting on the sweatshirt and the sock s but then I thought of how all the moms who pick up their kids would have judged me, and I put socks and a sweatshirt on him.

“We’re going to have to break into the house buddy?” He didn’t seem to understand. We’re not quite Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. Naturally I tried the door again because maybe I just pretend locked the door. Sadly, I had not pretend locked the door. I had actually locked the door. Ian stood in his socks on the front porch, presumably enjoying the breeze. Luckily the temperature was in the upper 40’s, twenty degrees above what it had been of late.

It’s time to break into the house. I’ve been compared to Bat Man and Spider Man in my past, mainly by myself at Halloween, but still, I was pretty sure I could break in. While Ian stood by occasionally mumbling “huh” I expertly tugged off the window screens (Ouch, I hurt my finger. Why is this so hard?) and then deftly opened the window and slid into the house. Except wait, the window is locked.

“Let’s go around to the side yard buddy.” He doesn’t have much choice in the matter because he can’t talk or take more than two steps without falling. Babies.  Shakes head.

I expertly popped the screen out and opened the window. (What was I going to do if the window was open? I don’t know if I would have fit through it. Maybe I’d have explained the plan to Ian and then lowered him through the window. I’m married to the sort of person who locks all the basement windows. If it was up to me, all the windows would be unlocked and we’d share a communal toilet with our neighbors, not because I’m a hippie mind you, it’s just that sometimes it’s annoying to lock the windows.

I called a friend like on who wants to be a millionaire except my question was, who wants to get back inside their house in time to get their keys and go pick up their daughter at preschool. It’s pretty much the same concept. She was at work. “No problem,” I tell her, looking at Ian, standing in his socks on a bunch of gravel with a large bit of snot just starting to form below his nose. “I got this.”

Like any normal adult I called my mom.

Mom: I live in CA.

Me: So you are fixing this or you aren’t? You’re being unclear.

Mom: You did what?

Me: I fed my keys to a whale. Not all my choices are good ones.

Mom: I’ll call the preschool and tell them you’ll be late.

Me: So you’re paying for a cab from where?

I took to the streets with Ian in my right arm tucked snugly away. I wonder what he thought of all this? Babies man. Except I took one last look at our house. What if I jumped up on the railing, swung from the bottom gutter, did a muscle up, pulled myself onto the small roof and pried open a window. This would all be so much easier if I shot webs from my hand. Back to the street.

I’m walking down the street with my little baby son trying to ignore everyone who is staring at us. Just going for a brisk walk folks. Strollers are overrated. I have no idea where I’m going. I see a bus. We jaywalk. Well, kind of run. I run across the street with my son held snugly to catch a random bus. We catch it. 

“Where does this bus go?” I ask the driver.

Driver: Straight Down.

Me: So it hits Florida

Driver: Straight down.

Me: So I get off at Florida?

Driver: Straight down. 

Me: How bout this weather? Who would have thought we'd make it to Mid-April. 

Driver: Straight down. 

Driver: noticing that I can’t balance Ian and put the second dollar in the machine. You’re fine, move on.

I sit proudly on the bus with Ian in my lap. That’s when I notice that he has dried snot all over his face that’s making him look like he has some sort of skin disease coupled with bad parenting. The lady next to us wakes up from her mid-morning drug induced nap and says, “wipe that baby’s nose.” She pulls through her purse, discarding some used tissue before settling on something in the bottom of her bag. I start to use it to wipe his nose then think better of it and just hold the partially used random tissue in my hand on the bus along with my filthy little son, looking boss. And by boss I mean white trash as I had my had on backwards and that grimy buddy.

Eventually, an elderly gentleman in the seat behind me patted me on the shoulder and said, “Do you need one of these? It looks like his nose could use a wipe?” I’d spent the last ten minutes on the bus trying to brush his face effectively with the sleeves of my sweatshirt, but I was happy to get a Kleenex that was, you know, a Kleenex and proceeded to try and wipe his nose while he rolled his head from side to side like I was burning him with fire. This child does not like having his face wiped. Luckily this nice old gentleman noted that he wasn’t having any of it, and I felt a brief moment of human connection.

M: I locked my keys in my car that’s how I ended up here.

Man: Oh. That’s too bad.

Me: Realizing that our stop is coming up and that I need to pull the cord and also that I’ve told him I locked them in the car when I meant house. “Also, a dragon destroyed our house.”

Man: Are you going to get help?

Me: Dragons man. Can you believe it? What are the chances? Have a nice day. Don’t wake that nice lady who is napping there. I think she’s taking this bus all the way round.

We stepped off the bus with a little giddyup in our step. Nothing starts the morning off right like two wadded up pieces of tissue with a collection of snot and Lord only knows what on them. I found a trash can and deposited one. Then we walked down beautiful Florida avenue.

Random Lady: Hey.

Me: Yes

Random Lady: Put a hood on that boy.

Me: Okay. (Looks down at sweatshirt and notices it doesn’t have a hood). Walks faster with a feeling, not of parental guilt but of murderous rage. I’m fairly certain now that if one more person criticizes me for trying to make this work that I’m going to have to punch them and since I already look like white trash, and I’ll be holding my baby in my right arm while I punch wildly with my left, it’s just going to confirm the opinion. Luckily I’m allowed to continue the last few blocks without any random person telling me that I should never have had children. Ian is nonplussed.

An arrival:

We finally get to pre-school forty minutes late on a sun-splashed day, our pride still intact. I walk Ian in and immediately wipe his nose in the bathroom. He cries as I remove several layers of crust that make him look like a lizard man. Then we pick up Sadie.

Sadie: I want to go to the playground.

Me: Well. I don’t have the car. We’re taking the bus.

Sadie: Yay. The bus.

Me: Kids are so easy to fool.

Sadie: What?

Me: The wheels on the bus go round and round.

It’s every parents dream to be meandering through the streets of DC with a 15 month old and a 3 year old in tow and luckily I got to live it. We walked a few blocks before I finally heard from S.

S: What happened?

Me: I locked the keys in the house. Also, there was a thing with a dragon that I can’t get into right now.

S: Where are you now?

Me: Somewhere just over Tahiti.. I panicked and chartered a plane.

S: Do you have the kids?

Me: Yeah. We’re thinking of taking a hot air balloon home, but I realized I don’t have the keys.

S: What if I come meet you with my keys in a taxi.

Me: I was planning on just staying at a restaurant for a while, buying a muffin every now and again and then using their bathroom. Essentially, it really sucks to be homeless. It took me roughly 1.5 hours of not getting into my house to consider peeing on doorsteps and taking my children into a cardboard shelter.

S: Where are you.

Me: Sadie! Sadie get back here. And why are your shoes off?

Sadie: Ian took his socks off.

Me: Looks down at two barefooted children on a little strip of pavement between three streets. “Things are going well. I’m not sure you need to come.”

S: I’ll call you from the taxi.

From there, we walked another few blocks looking for an agreeable place to spend time and avoid people who would tell me to put shoes on my child.

Me: Look, Sadie. Ian’s waving at that hand. (I’ve got my parenting happiness turned up to a wattage of nine because you don’t want the kids to sense that you’re on the verge of losing your shi- and moving to a foreign country where you’ll herd goats for the next thirty years until your blood pressure goes down).

Ian: Waves at giant ceramic hand in park.

We walked towards the giant hand because it looked inviting. Then we kept walking because giant ceramic hands are strange, and I swear when I turned around it was flipping me off. We arrived at a bus stop on 11^th, I called S, and let the kids crawl around on a lawn in front of a school. Granted, the lawn was  raised up off the street, so I had to lift both kids off and then periodically run after them like a hen squawking at her young if they got close to the edge. I mean, I know that they know the edge is there, but I don’t know if they understand that it’s a problem for them.

Sadie: (Runs toward edge).

Me: (Holds a sockless and laughing baby Ian in his arm while running after her) Sadie! Stop!

Sadie: Why?

Me: Because there is an edge. Have you seen Cliffhanger and Vertical Limit? People who fall off edges end up dying, and the people who survive them have to dramatic things in order to get over the fact that they let their friend fall.

Sadie: Oh

Me: Plus it’s a lot of paperwork. (This is something she really understands as I always explain to her that the reason I don’t speed and smash into other cars when she wants us to go faster is that it would end up with a lot of paperwork).

In the distance, a group of teenage boys, who definitely should be in school, circle on their bikes outside of an apartment complex hopefully dealing drugs.

Me: We’re in a little slice of heaven, kids.

Eventually the taxi arrives, and we get the house keys and go on a bus ride home. But I can tell that by the end of this journey the kids are a little bit sad to see the fun come to an end. I on the other hand am about as tired as I can be, and I tell Sadie to play while Ian and I take a nap. He cries for the better part of half an hour, but I sleep anyway, except when Sadie occasionally stops by to show me something she’s built with the Legos and it comes crashing down on my head because it’s too top heavy.

After an hour or so of sleep I wander downstairs to see what has happened. And there in the middle of the floor are 12 bottles of wine, lined up in a row.

Me: What?

Sadie: I was having a party.

Me: I can’t wait until you’re a teenager. 

MSN Mondays: 15 movies the whole family will love

Wait, MSN. You're telling me in this day and age of algorithms and Buzzfeed that you think anyone needs a list of family movies. Netflix knows how to recommend family movies that star women over the age of thirty, but under the age of 35 who are from rural settings. Can you beat that? Me too.

1. The Lion King-This is a retelling of Hamlet, which is what your family should be doing anyway. My family would often spend the evening sitting down to do a dramatic reading of Hamlet. Alas, Poor Yorick, I knew him well. Man they were amazing times, but I digress. The Lion King is fun for the kids because they get to ask their parents questions about death after the movie, and the parents just get to look awkward and then break into song, which smooths over any situation. I end most marital arguments with a rendition of the Star Spangled Banner. And adults get to see if the dust in the sky spells sex. Hint: it does. Why? Because Disney knows what makes the world go round.

2. Nightmare on Elm Street

I'm using this one from personal experience. I accidentally saw it at a friends house when I was like five or something, and I'm pretty sure it's the reason I slept with the light on until I was 12 and wet the bed until I was nine or something. The point is, kids can be difficult. This is the sort of movie you can put on about a nightmare monster slaying children that will leave the parents feeling good about getting back at their children. However, stick around for the end of the movie because eventually the kids win. Guess what? You've empowered them now. Nice work.

3. Frozen

I haven't seen frozen, but I'm pretty sure the rest of the world has. Most Disney movies are about a pretty girl landing a happy prince to make things all better. People keep telling me that this movie doesn't have that message and then they break into song. Who doesn't love breaking into song? Then you can all sing Let it go and that snowman song and maybe make a cute video of the whole family doing it and post it to YouTube. What's wrong with marrying a prince though? He's handsome and he's got money and power. I mean, if all that's left is a meh personality I think you're coming out ahead in the deal Disney princess.

4. Turner and Hooch

The kids are going to love this movie because it has a dog in it. Kids love dogs. And the dog makes all sorts of huge messes and creates problems, but he's lovable, which the kids can relate to. Parents are going to enjoy the movie because it has Tom Hanks in it and everyone loves Tom Hanks. Also, after mucking everything up the whole movie the dog finally gets what's coming to him.

5. Snow White

The kids  are going to be delighted by those adorable little dwarves singing about going off to work like good little industrial capitalists. Children love industrial capitalism. Parents are going to love it because it has a short run time and you can go back to binge watching Breaking Bad, Mad Men and Game of Thrones. To bed with you kids.

6. Citizen Kane

There is a reason this is always the #1 ranked movie by AFI. No one has seen it. You and your family can be the first. I'm guessing that everyone will enjoy it, otherwise, why would it be ranked number one? I think it's about William Randolph Hearst and a sled and gettin rich. It's the original rap song if I understand movie criticism correctly. Kids love to go sledding and adults love gettin rich.

7. The Incredibles

It's a great movie that kids will appreciate because kids are in the movie, which will remind them of them. Also, it has superheroes, which they love. And it has a ton of jokes that will just go right over their sweet little heads to fall in your lap. Stupid kids not getting jokes.

8. War and Peace (The book on tape)

Enough with movies already people. Movies don't build empathy, fiction does. Let's have the family gather round the old computer and listen to the 87 hours of someone on Librivox reading War and Peace to your whole family. It's like watching a movie where you provide all the scenery. Plus, as a rule, kids love the Napoleonic Wars. And, as a rule, parents love people who are young and in love.

9. Babes in Toyland

I don't remember much about this movie, but it did have Keanu Reeves in it. And if you look at the title it pretty much indicates that children will be betwixt toys, which sounds like something they'd like. The adults will like it because it will remind them of how awesome Keanu Reeves was in Point Break, and they'll spend the rest of the evening trying to find an illegal download of Point Break, which will totally be worth it.

10. 101 Dalmatians

I love this movie. You love this movie. Have you read the full length book with the dogs sending out messages about the puppies? Have you? No? Go read that book dammit.

11. The Fox and the Hound

Don't you even. This movie about friendship is beautiful because it doesn't last forever. Sometimes one of you is a Fox and one of you is a Hound. Sometimes one of you moves away to Missouri and says you'll stay pen pals but then meets some new awesome people and never writes me back thank you very much. But no. I forgive you. I already had my heart broken by the Fox and the Hound.

12. The Sword and the Stone

Nah. I'm kidding. This movie is terrible. Oh look the little boy pulled that sword out of the stone and talked to a talking owl. That's not what the Arthurian legend is about and that's not what kids want. They want to watch a tale of betrayal adultery, incest etc. like the rest of us. Don't you dare water it down...that owl is kind of adorable.

13. The Sixth Sense

The kids are going to love it because it has a child as the lead and everyone is taking him super seriously. Kids like to be taken seriously by adults. Adults are going to love it because they'll know the surprise that's coming at the end of the movie, and they can watch that moment of shock on their kid's faces right before we get to the closing credits: that's right kids as crazy good as this movie was M Knight Shyamalan hasn't made anything good since. Man. Just imagine how shocked they'll be.

14. Who Framed Roger Rabbit

Kids are going to love it because they'll get to see Looney Tunes, which I think have been banned now because they were mostly about hurting people or shooting them, and I bet we had some latent sexism and racism in there, or as I like to call it, the entire Disney catalogue, amirite? Anyhow, the tunes are great, and as for adults-Jessica Rabbit--. I get that she's a toon guys, but honestly, do you think I'd have a shot with her? I hope so. My childhood self hopes so. Sigh.

15.  The Naked Gun

"Surely, you can't be serious?" "Of course I'm serious. And don't call me Shirley." Comedic gold that transcends racial, gender, social,economic and age gaps. A full body condom? Love it. The kids won't even know what's happening.