En media res. It's a literary term, that in French means, "I have no idea where to start this." Yeah, it sounds much cooler in French, but everything is cooler in French. Even when they spit on you it glistens. I have no idea why.
Stories written using en media res are usually lauded as having a better perspective of "real" life. Because "real" life, the experts will tell you, is not a straight line but a series of circles spiraling into decay, and yeah, eventually death. Now if that doesn't make you want to leap from the tallest building in a single bound, wait! I have more.
See, it's like a paddle boat wheel really, just churning down the river. We're all paddles attached to the great wheel o' real life. Some days, we're soaring to the top, spraying spume; other days we're dredging the depths slapping fish and trolling through weeds. That's what it's all about--life, en media res, the works: spume and weed. You can quote the experts. What, me? Naw, better not quote me, I'm plowing through fish guts and algae right now.
So you're asking me, "Great Rob, but what's this got to do with your divorce? I mean that's why we're here. We want to hear about that!"
Well I'm glad you asked. It saved me from segueing spume and marriage; which, by the way, is not easy. I might as well find a cure for cancer or a rhyme for "orange" while I'm at it.
It was in the paper. Everything is if you look, but what I read today brought it full circle. I was flipping past an article on the legislation to treat pets of divorced families like children, complete with custodial rights and everything. I think there were even provisions for puppy support, and deadbeat doggy daddies. Shaking my head, I skipped to the all-important Calendar section, and there, on the front page "The Spice Girls reunite for tour."
Call me Epiphany Spice.
See, when I was in college the Spice girls were huge. One of my roommates even bought their first CD. He found himself locked out in the snow faster than he could say "Zig-a-zig ahh." Then we all took turns listening to it—secretly—alone in a dark room, no lights, just the gentle rapping at the window.
"C'mon! Let me in!"
Don't worry Baby Spice, Hypothermia will set in soon. The noise will stop. Then it's just you and me...
Yeah, Baby Spice was my fave. I don't normally like blonds, but I think the brunettes were too pungent spicy for me. Baby Spice? She was cute and cuddly. You could count on Baby Spice.
The Spice girls were still going strong when I met MyWife, and then Ginger left the band. I think she was jealous. There, there, Ginger, I'm back, and so are you. All is forgiven. See? En media res. Everything's coming full circle.
But that's not the only thing. A lot of things are shifting back to where they were before I moved in with MyWife. Other than the house, my bills are definitely better. Throughout our marriage, our spending was way out of control. We were always in debt. We could pay our bills but we never saved enough to get ahead. I blame her. There! I've said it. If she hadn't insisted I buy my new computer, DVD player, and television, we'd have had plenty of spending money. Oh, don't worry about her, she'll be taking all kinds of trophies with her from our spume days. And it's fine, because at least my bills are gone.
Something else is gone too. Well not gone, but on it's way out.
No, not MyWife! Although that is true, that's not what we're talking about here. See, I'm trying not to be whiney. Work with me! No, when we got together , I put on some serious weight. There's a picture taken about 4 years ago, of me holding my niece. She's just a baby. It's so cute, she's looking up at me, eyes agog. I'm looking down at her, big smile. It's hard to tell now what was going through my mind for that picture, but if your looking at it now, I can tell you what your first guess will be: "Mmmm. She looks tasty!" Yeah, I was big.
So rather than look like Uncle baby-eater, I've decided to loose some weight. And I've been doing it steadily for two years now. Right now my body is at about pre-marriage weight. That's right, my body is a well oiled instrument. Ok, let's change that…body…well oiled…not really where I wanted to go…
"Finely calibrated!" That's what we'll say, and we'll pretend I never mentioned oiling up. Besides, it's still not perfect. I still have weight to lose. But I wasn't perfect when I met MyWife, just on my way up.
I will be again soon. It's like 10 years never existed. Sort of like God washed away one big mistake. Thank you God, I won't do it again.
Now I've got Baby Spice in my sights.
No comments:
Post a Comment