On Sunday, I went with Ned to a baptism in his family. I know you're sick and tired of hearing about Ned and me getting up early and being at a church on Sunday. But there we were again.
In case you were thinking that I always ride in back, like Ned and I are always playing chauffeur, we had his uncle and his mom in the car. I got in back so his uncle, who is, you know, taller than me, could ride in front. Yes, I DO get carsick in the back. I went back there and prayed to God above, who I was on my way to visit, not to let me barf on my church-y clothes.
It was exactly the kind of spring day that makes you love spring, and I know I said that about Saturday at the feed store but IT'S TRUE, and I don't know what you want me to do about it.
The church was in a college town, so we had to park and walk a ways, but it was lovely so no one cared. There were tons of trees in bloom, which I'd have photographed but now my iPhone is ALL SCREWED UP and keeps saying storage is full even though I've had this phone less than a year and oh I hate everything. The point is, when we got inside the really pretty huge church, Ned had an inch worm on him.
We all had teensy crosses made from palms, because it was Palm Sunday, heathen, so I gathered up that little worm and let him rest on the cross. He probably didn't enjoy the symbolism but what are you gonna do?
See him? He's up hear the top, on the right.
"Remember that song Kermit used to sing? 'Inch worm, inch worm, measuring the universe,'" Ned sang in the church like he was Shug in The Color Purple. Not that she sang Inch Worm. But that's only because one never fell on her.
Dude. I had COMPLETELY FORGOTTEN this song. Which is not, in fact, sung by Kermit, but rather an actual inch worm. Was there a more '70s flower than marigolds?
Ned's 14-year-old nephew sat next to me, so that was good, because someone at my maturity level was there to keep me amused. We traded that inch worm back and forth, and played with the palm tree cross, and generally had ourselves a time. This is only funny if you know theater things, but when it was over, Ned's nephew said, "I don't know about you, but I just watermeloned through that whole service."
Ned also took time out from God to write me important notes. In his cute serial-killer penmanship.
Ned has two moods: starving and "I ate too much." There's never a middle ground with Ned.
After God was completely over us and our inattentive selves (the baby getting baptised was really extra cute. She had a cute round head and rosy cheeks and was not at all one of those lemony babies) (and she had on an excellent dress), I got out of that church as quickly as I could to rescue the inch worm, who I was worried sick about. He looked like he was getting greener while we were in there, and I didn't know what that meant but I figured it wasn't good.
I got to the grass and was setting him in there just so without realizing a great number of Ned's nieces and nephews had decended on me. I am still a novelty, so they are interested in saying hello. Soon they'll be over me. One of them already said that day, "Oh, you're family," so you know the thrill is going.
The point is, Ned has a niece who is The Cutest Child in the World®.
She's five, but do not tell her that. She had her birthday in March, but then a few weeks later they had another, friends-attended birthday, and because she had another party, she knows she's six now. She told everyone she has a numbers chart and knows five comes after six, and when you have a birthday party, it's your birthday, so.
She's going to be dreadfully disappointed on her "21st" birthday.
The point is, she'd run over and I hadn't seen her, so after .00003 seconds of waiting for me to notice, she screeched, "LOOK AT ME!"
See. Why didn't I ever think to just cut to the chase that way when I greet people? It's what I'm saying, only with 758 words.
Also? I want monograms on my shoes.
After church was over and everyone was milling around in the yard, there, I told Ned I was walking to the Rite Aid on the corner, because I had forgotten lipstick and it was making me physically uncomfortable. I ALWAYS have something on my lips, even if it's just a judgemental word. It was driving me CRAZY to have empty, cave woman lips.
Needless to say, I had to make my decision quickly, so I chose a chubby lip pencil in a nice pink that I thought would be sheer. Perhaps you saw my lips from wherever you were that day, because bright?
It was really embarrassing how ships kept slamming up to me whichever way I turned my head. It was awful the way Michigan J Frog started dancing and singing once I looked down on him. "Hello my baby, hello my--Oh, that's not a spotlight?"
Bright. Is what I'm saying to you. The lipstick was bright. I walked back toward the church and Ned's family was walking toward me, and they all have sunburns now like Richard Dreyfus had in Close Encounters.
"Do you think this lipstick is too bright?" I asked, my lips the watts of 10,000 suns.
"Why didn't you ask?" said Ned's mom. "I have a tube of the lipstick you told us all to get on your blog." And she whipped out some L'Oreal Mica. I had no idea this blog was so influential. In the meantime, can you see my lips?
Yeesh.
Anyway, it was a good time, and it ended with everyone Ned is related to getting in the car and going for Cheerwine slushies, which I did not have, because points. Guess who'd better look like she has rickets soon.
Okay, I have to go, as it's now 8:00 and I am unshowered. I'd better get in there, maybe swipe on a little...lipstick and get to work.
Brightly, June
