In this life one can never know where things will lead. Just when you think you crossed some final imaginary boundary the unimaginable happens. Its mid week and I managed to catch a flight back from a trip that got me in around midnight. There is not much better than coming home a day early to a house stocked with booze, food, and a very naked Chesty Blonde. Well the food and booze are for the pagan festival we’re hosting this weekend for Halloween but the naked woman was all for me. So after a very , very nice welcome home and a little small talk I dozed off to sleep. The next morning I wake up stupid early, listen to a series of foreign accents arguing on a conference call even before the coffee pot finishes working its magic, and am stumbling around in a stupor.
At the heart of the matter even though my life is deranged both professionally and personally by most people’s standards but the rest of the house hold lives a very normal existence and despite my lack of faith the kids attend catholic school. At their school they have a saint parade where they have to pick a saint, do a report and then dress up as that saint. I guess it’s sort of the anti Halloween party thing. One year I picked the kids up after their “saint party” dressed as the devil since our annual party was that night and the theme was Heaven and Hell. Despite my hedonistic existence, blasphemous behavior, and 16 years of overpriced catholic education I had no idea that saints used rope to hold their clothes on. I thought it was the sole province of the Hill Billy side of my genealogy which I am sure none of whom are even remotely qualified for canonization.
The following conversation took place over breakfast yesterday.
The Chesty Blonde (TCB): “ Lilly needs some type of belt for her saint costume”
Me “ um ok” at this point I’m laying in front of the fire place nursing my morning addiction and admiring my partner’s cleavage beneath the tight black cami.
TCB “ I was thinking some type of rope for a belt”
Me “ ok what kind of rope?”
At this point I’d like to point out I’m a bit of a rope coinsure, it’s not a surprise to most people reading this and certainly not to TCB. So I continue.
Me “so what color? Do you want something natural or MFP?” the list went on and on. Amelda Marcos had closet full of shoes she’d never worn and I have bag of rope that never been used “just in case”.
TCB just rolled her eyes as I scampered off with coffee in hand to collect an assortment of rope I’d not yet gotten around to using for a more nefarious purpose. Upon my return I heard.
TCB “can we cut it?”
Me “ do we have to?” Mean while a pair of EMT shears were well with insight. I brought them along out of habit more than anything.
It was decided that a 10ft piece of new natural Twisted Monk 6mm hemp was the right look. So I knotted the thing and unraveled and frayed the ends to where I had finished the rope all while doing a small diatribe how whipped ends were so much better. I figured that eventually I’d have to cut it to fit as a belt but it wouldn’t be the first time I’d cut a piece of rope.
I spent the next 15 minute tying and untying a series of cuffs and shackles on the Blonde with various other ropes while sipping coffee. She looked bored but humored me and eventually made an off hand comment about me being out of practice when one knot was slightly askew. I reassured her that was fine and that I’d get plenty of practice tonight after work.
After all any morning where I get to spend an extra 45 minutes alone with the Blonde is a great morning, when it involves coffee even better. Add some rope to the mix and it’s just like heaven .
After school Lilly is none the wiser and thrilled to have her costume complete. Of course it led to her swinging the rope like an irate invading Viking would a mace or battle axe before she turned to me and asked how cowboys tie a lasso. So of course I showed her. She spent the night tying and untying the lasso and roping a dining room chair like a run away calf. It might be a good skill to have since we live in the Midwest and she’ll be in great shape if we ever move to Texas.
As for me I it’s another first since I sincerely doubt that any previous saints in the school’s long, illustrious, and over priced history had a part of their costume that went from being a potential shackle for some random stunt bunny type to a much holier purpose.
Lilly later asked me “is that good rope?” seeing as she’s fairly fashion and brand conscious it really wasn’t an odd question. So I reassured it would be the best quality rope on any of the costumes which seemed to suffice. All the while I was thanking my own nonexistent personal deity that she wasn’t asking for a brand. Then what would I have said? “Oh I ordered it from a specialty shop on the internet.“ I doubt my mind would have been that quick under the circumstances.
Today as I got ready for work and she headed out the door for school dressed as St. Genevieve (I think the Patron Saint of Paris, I’m more familiar with the sister or Mercy’s Greatest hits) for me there is a deranged sense of satisfaction knowing that first and foremost the kid was happy with her costume. Secondly that even now a little bit of my twisted soul is walking the halls of some place it would not be welcome. As for religion in general…well what can I say? Catholics are a kinky lot. I should know I spent most of my teens honing my skills with the girls tight white blouses, short plaid skirts and deviant sexual desires. Actually if it weren’t for them I might be a very different person; I never tied a nice Jewish, Hindu or Buddhist girl to anything until years later.
Yes I know I’m going to hell. No need to remind me.