Weekly Stories

satan in the manger

Around the baby Jesus sit a huddle of squirmy dog eared children dressed as rodents and livestock, their head mics shorting out and all their clever antics and memorization flying out the window. One boy is inexplicably dressed all in red with red pointy ears. Maybe he is supposed to be a squirrel? He looks like satan peering down at the baby Jesus, leering over the cradle. I cannot stop chuckling. My Fellow whispers to me in his best demonic voice, “See you in 33 years, sucker.” All the children are bewildered and befuddled except for camel 2: a tall…

how not to make a mouse costume

I am trying to make mouse costumes for the church pageant tomorrow (ears and a nose) and instead, it looks like Penis Face. Merry Christmas, baby Jesus. I would never normally volunteer to make costumes, sewing is not my strong suit. However, one of our kids was cast as a mouse and they didn’t have a costume in storage. This child was traveling with the other parent, missed a rehearsal, wants to quit. It’s discouraging for a tween to be cast as a rodent with a nest of squeaky children who are five and under. It does not bolster one…

a good skate

We drive along the Rideau canal in my brother’s racy red sports car. “Do you ever see our step mother anymore?” “No.” For a variety of reasons this is understandable. I haven’t seen her in years, though I have nothing but good feelings towards her. It’s complicated. I wonder if that’s what the children will say about me someday. Then I wonder why I wonder that. “I guess the Rideau isn’t ready for skating?” “Not yet.” I peer through the snowy trees towards the water, still rolling a dark snaky torrent under the bridge. Both sides of the Rideau extend…

membership

I hastily cover my half worn off yellow sparkly nail polish with dark blue, as if that is somehow an improvement…Fellow looks at me cockeyed but says nothing. I think to myself, “What a wise man.” We rush out the door. A big black Hummer from Whistler has jammed my Mini into a tight parking spot. Its big wide militarian fossil fuel guzzling bumper wishes me, “Namaste”. I desperately want to make fun of this…but we’re off to become official members of the St Andrews Wesley United church. It’s mandate: compassion, peace, inclusion, equality and justice. So…dude…like totally…namaste. Fellow is…

racist cookies

After doing at least a dozen pale faced cookies I look over at my chocolate icing and decide to diversify my choir of angels. My daughter peers down at what I’m doing and gasps, “Mommy! That is SO RACIST” I am surprised by her statement. I look over to Fellow and the Boy for support and they both nod towards Nora in agreement, “Wellll….”. Sigh. They look like white angels in black face. I see what Nora means. But I insist my intentions are pure and I continue to paint in their singy songy O mouths with glee. Nora jams…

Royal

Oh my field boy who smells like wheat and kite string. Freckles on your shoulders. I love the way your finger bends and the way your hair turns up on the ends. You have ended up in so many plays and so many songs, my first steady. I can’t speak of you without inside stories. One of my dearest and longest standing friends. The river of many roses is flooding all my thoughts. She’s an earth bound beauty with her hair tied up in knots. You are there, in that valley of home, sitting quiet and dumbstruck. Shadows on your…

Creepiest Canadian Tire ever

Canadian Tire on Cambie Street is where I would hang out if I actually did drugs. It is the most psychedelic place I’ve ever been, save the Winnie the Pooh ride and its’ “nightmare” sequence in Disneyland. I climb the long ramp up to the parking on the top floor to find about five spaces all taken up by mini vans. There is a tiny space that a “Sienna” has occupied a quarter of…but I have a mini Cooper and decide to squeeze in beside Sienna’s wideness. I won’t be long. When I get out of my coop’, I realize…

citizens and unicorns

I know there are a great number of progressive churches in Vancouver: over twenty of them specifically welcoming of the LGBTQ community. (can we not find a clever acronym? That always sounds like a complicated sandwich) My Fellow happens to attend one: St Andrews Wesley United: the huge grey church beside St Paul’s hospital. This is the outfit that does the candlelight services and the jazz vespers. The first thing I notice about the church are the cherubim sculptures behind the altar. They look EXACTLY like my Fellow, give or take some wings and flowing blonde hair. It cracks me…

am I an ass for being late?

“I am not going to be late for Kugler, he is always so punctual”, I say to myself, as I tuck my change back into my purse and wave JJ Bean good-bye. The line up is too long for a small coffee and I still have to go up to the third floor to his office at SFU. I scale the steps, I punch 3rd floor on the elevator, the girl next to me has punched 4. Elevator up, door opens, I pass a young man and there’s the sign outside that says the Djavad Mowafaghian cinema: good. I am…

friending history

The entire community of Bowen island trundles out in their puff jackets and hand knit toques for the Remembrance Day service in Snug Cove. Various organizations gather around the cenotaph, laying wreathes against the stone in solemn respect for those who fought for our freedom. Babies whimper impatiently, children peer around their parent’s knees and a smart collie next to me sits at attention for a treat. At the end of the service, the announcer woman is interrupted by a whisper – she has forgotten Ms. Periwinkle from such and such church who hobbles over in her smart jacket and…

Lucia Frangione