Conversation with Shasta in Tacoma in June of 2015:
Cast of characters:
Mommy: Otherwise known as Jocelyn, a retired teacher helping out her elderly parents.
Shasta: A visiting alien from a planet of huge slugs, invisible to most people
Grandma and Grandpa: The elderly parents
Mommy is sitting on a lawn chair of sorts. The chair seat has its old blue and white striped, plastic mesh, but a yellow-green (too dark to be called chartreuse) cushion from the defunct living room couch serves as back support. The back porch has three chairs now, thanks to a ferocious effort to get paper junk to recycling. Grandma sits, half-dressed, on a bare, white plastic lawn chair to mommy’s right. She wears an extra long t-shirt, a short mini-dress on a five-foot, 165 pound, 86 year-old woman. Grandma would put more clothes on if asked, but grandpa could care less. Mommy will manage the clothing question after breakfast. Grandpa sits across from mommy in another of the blue and white striped lawn chairs, this one with the old blue and white back but an extra brown, blue and cream floral fabric cushion from a defunct set of dining room chairs. Waste not-want not, mommy thinks.
Shasta is hovering on an iridescent, violet carpet a few feet above the EdenPURE heater, a big, black box with mottled, brown trim. She is dressed in a black, Star Wars Millennium Falcon t-shirt, which looks odd since she is an invisible, brown slug who weighs about 45 pounds and has no arms, legs, hands or feet. She wears gold-rimmed lunettes with mirrored lenses attached to her favorite, black-velvet, Minerva McGonagall witches hat.
Mommy notes people should eat some fruit and cereal. Grandpa agrees, but observes grandma has had part of a cookie.
Grandma: (Corrects grandpa.) “I had a whole cookie.”
Those red velvet cookies with their white chips squick mommy. Mommy thinks that a baked cookie that comes out in such an intensely red-brown shade requires more red dye than mommy wants to eat. Mommy’s fussy, though. She is having trouble with meal plans in Tacoma. Fast food coupons are everywhere, not all of them expired. She managed to avoid Arbys yesterday in favor of the Mexican restaurant that makes the good ham, eggs and pancakes. Grandpa and grandma ate American breakfasts while mommy ate her veggie burrito. At home, chocolate muffins, red velvet cookies, and chocolate cereals cover the counter near the refrigerator. Nobody would starve here, but malnutrition seems almost inevitable. Mommy is grateful for the Jamba Juice at the mall.
Conservative talk radio drones on in the background. Rush Limbaugh talks. Mommy mostly does not listen.
Mommy studies the hanging wind chimes, especially the one above her head with the gnarled wood and mushrooms. She pauses to feel sorry for the starfish above grandma, lending prickly, preserved arms to five strands of mauve and white hanging sea shells tied below. A remarkably courageous bluebird eats bread crumbs in the backyard, only about 12 feet from the porch. Squirrels and little, brown birds come for the rice and bread all morning. Grandpa buys bread to crumble for the birds.
Shasta (telepathically): Mommy, you are starting to listen to Rush.
Mommy: Rush on evolution might be interesting. He sounds like he’s against the idea. Teaching evolution is a “left-wing, mandatory requirement” according to Rush, ironically teaching that we are evolving from dark to light skin. Ummm… I don’t think we can call this a straw-man argument. How about an invisible-boggart argument? I grant that Rush might be right about our hearing too much apocalyptic news.
Shasta: I wish grandpa would change the station to that guy Carlson he likes.
Mommy: So how’s my favorite slug today? I like the big starship and black velvet hat. The mirrored glasses go perfectly.
Shasta: Thanks. I was going to try for subtle today, but I think I missed.
Mommy: Don’t worry. I miss all the time. Subtle is overrated. The world needs more velvet.
Grandma: (Aloud to grandpa) Look how pretty your daughter is.
Grandpa: That’s because she’s my daughter. That’s heredity. Albert’s the luckiest guy in Northbrook.
Mommy: Thanks, dad.
Here in Tacoma, mommy can do no wrong. Grandpa and grandma even think mommy dresses well. In Tacoma, no t-shirt or hat is too weird. Mommy would have to put on a garbage bag to cause grandpa concern. Grandma would probably just say, “Well, that looks interesting.”
Rush drones on. Soon mommy will walk to the Safeway with the Starbucks kiosk. Those red cookies and dry muffins are more healthful than they seem; they inspire regular morning walks. Rush is equally inspiring.
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Zombie phrase for the day: Watch out for maternity leaves.
Ahhhhddd owwwvvv ahhhdddehhhrdeee eeevzzzzz.
(Yet the newly retired Jocelyn took that maternity leave because she never learns. And it would have been fine except for fourth period. She loved a few of those groups. One Fourth Period can lead a woman to emigrate to the outer colonies, though. As she drove across the country with Sam the Eldest that summer, only her husband and dog kept her from trying to find a Moon shuttle or even the express rocket to Titan.)
