Brownie @ MindSay 
It pleases me to come home while no one else is home (well, Santas is, but she's sick, so she's usually in her room, either dead to the world or WoWing for a few hours - has no concept of what's going on outside), and...become productive.
As I told Rogue, "Woke up, got shower, went to class, took nap, did some reading, went to class, put gas in my car, ripped two songs, unloaded/reloaded/ran dishwasher, ironed some shirts, put away some of my laundry, put my bedsheets in the wash, unloaded the dishwasher, took out the dog, cleaned up the kitchen, and I may be vacuuming the downstairs."
I am planning to vacuum the downstairs and bring in the dog before I leave for my evening class. (After class, I've got a meeting with a friend, and a get-together with a few camp friends after that). But here's the bit where I'm certain that I'm part Brownie:
I get really annoyed if anyone catches me at it. Seriously. I try to plan how much I can possibly get done and get all cleaned up (vacuum put away, etc.) before Mom comes home, because when she gets in, I want to be at my computer or watching a movie, giving the impression that I've been slacking all afternoon.
(Brownies, if you walk in on them, will instantly either disappear or make a mad blurred dash for the hole in the wall. You may see something out of the corner of your eye, but you're not quite sure what that little brown giggling blur was, so you figure it's safer not to think about it. I happen to be slightly larger than your average Brownie. There are no holes in the wall that accommodate my size, nor do I have the ability to vanish/reappear on the spot, despite what people around the music lounge are beginning to speculate.)
I have NO idea why I prefer this. She has come home early in the past and caught me working on the kitchen. She praised me for it, but I was secretly irritated with myself (not with the praise - Phirefly loves affirmation) for not having it completed earlier. Why?
I really don't know! I think maybe I rationalize that I want it to be something that she doesn't have to think about at all, like it just gets done and is out of the way for when she wants her kitchen next. I know I'm less bothered when she finds me doing my own stuff, like my laundry or cleaning up my room. That's just stuff that helps me out - I much prefer it when, if I'm doing stuff for her, she doesn't find out that it was me.
Although, she usually seems to figure it out.
for a while, so this morning it happened. On a parenthetical note, we
do not have A/C in our church, and it was hot. And it's also been
quite humid the past couple days. So add a high dewpoint, high temps,
and 350 people and you have a stuffy building even at 10:00 am --
thankfully, we forego Sunday school in the summer months so we can
have services earlier.
Anyway, I took my temperature gauge that I keep in our living room
just to see what the reading would be. The result? A cool 92
degrees. E was restless in the heat as were the children
scattered around the room, but I was feeling pretty good. Why?
Because I don't go to church to impress anyone...just a T-shirt,
shorts and flip-flops for me (and all the other sane men in the
sanctuary). It certainly doesn't win me any brownie points with
Jesus. By all accounts, I am stark naked in front of him. He sees
clear through me. (On a similar vein, I have in my possession
somewhere or another some great stuff on the futility of -- and sadly
the total warping of God's grace -- when Christians attempt to
superficially "dress up or look their best for Jesus"). Sunday best--
there's no such thing--it's a crock and a slap in the face of grace--I
wish people realized it. More than that, I wish those that espoused
this line of thinking would stop teaching it to impressionable minds
under the guise of being helpful. Of course, the back of my T-shirt
was soaking wet when we got up to leave, but that's nothing new. At
least I wasn't drenched from top to bottom as I noticed one young man
was a few Sundays ago at a church we were visting (this church --
First Congregational of Essex -- had no A/C either and was even hotter
there). The guy looked like he had been working construction all day
in Death Valley.
I will continue in another post since I hijacked my own topic. I'm
sorry. I just got a little over-heated. It stems from a blog I read a
few days ago of a seemingly intelligent pastor who was dogmatically
saying that as a Christian matures, he would want to start wearing his
best clothes to church. He also said that those who wore "less than
their best" were in rebellion. I think he was even preaching a few
sermons relating that junk to his congregation who doubtless respect
him and will believe him (he argues his point pretty well, but his
premise is inaccurate) who in turn will repeat it to the next
generation and so on and so on...
She walked in after work with a warm smile and sat down. I returned her last email with an invitation for coffee. My email address is on my business card and she'd written me, still explaining that she was a vampire and she's been wrestling with terrible dreams and waking up with evidence she'd been "out" hunting.
"Hi! Nice to see you again G."
"Nice to see you too. What will you have?" I got us two latte's, and a brownie. I kinda wanted to see her eat some "food". I don't know a lot about vampires, but I don't think they eat real food. "Split a brownie with me." I broke off a piece and put it between us. She reached over and broke off a piece and took a big bite.
"How's the brownie?" She took another bite and nodded.
"I didn't know what to think of what you told me. I thought it was a very interesting fantasy . . . role playing".
"I can see that. But it's the truth." She sipped her coffee and looked over the rim of the cup at me.
"You're lovely. Hard to imagine that you're over 35, much less 15 times that. You're enjoying sweet coffee and a brownie."
"And vampires only drink blood? Right?"
"From what I understand. But then again I'm curious and hoped you would understand."
"Vampires need blood to be "sustained". I don't hunt every night, in fact I haven't in awhile and I think it's why I'm having dreams and waking up not really remembering what I've done."
"You're physical needs are taking over?"
"Yes. Exactly."
We talked and I asked her to tell me about herself. She has parents, went to high school and college. She's not a vegetarian, but eats little meat. She likes to listen to ColdPlay and swims well, although she can't seem to get the hang of surfing. She's very easy to look at and has beautiful brown eyes and a very nice laugh when I make a face or be sarcastic. She had a pregnancy "scare" when she was 21, it could have been one or the other of two guys and a vacation alone in Cancun. She has an apartment in West Hollywood and needs a new car, but can't bring herself to "go through all the pressure" of picking one out and getting a price. She graduated USC with a degree in Psychology and had not studied since.
"You have all the parts of a very human life. Is that normal? Is it part of a facade? I don't understand how you could be both a daughter, a sister, very human, and be a . . ."
"Vampiress?"
"Yes. A very pretty one though." She smiled at me and enjoyed being called pretty. I'm sure she's well aware she's pretty and gets a lot of attention.
"What if I were to explain it like I know I've been reincarnated?"
"I have dear friends who believe in Reincarnation. But, I don't understand how "you" mean it."
"I have lived different lives, but always as a vampire. My "spirit" is a vampire. I gradually became aware of my previous lives, like other people become aware of their past lives, as I grew up . . . You, for instance are a soldier, an officer to be exact, and you have been, many times, each life repeats itself in your spirit. You are a soldier, an officer, a protector."
"I served in the Marines. But . . . you had a 50/50 chance of getting that right"
"Then why did I bring "that" up? You were an officer weren't you?"
"Yes, but then again . . ."
"I'm not wrong. You know General Patton believed in reincarnation. Like in the movie."
"Yes. I know many who entertain the idea. But they always seem to be celebrities like Cleopatra or the king or queen of something".
"You were a commanding officer, many times, you have a protective soul. You were once Hebrew I believe"
"You "recognize" me?"
"No, not you per se, but your spirit. Isn't that what your friend says to you?"
"Yes. He does. But that's a good guess"
"Yes, it could be but I'm two for two. IN Hebrew there is a word for you . . ."
"Yes. Beshert. I know about that."
"How do you know?"
"A Rabbi kinda took me in after my dad died. When I was a teenager."
"And you think that was coincidence?"
"Well he never mentioned believing in reincarnation, and I worked for him doing chores and taking care of the livestock. I was in high school. He didn't have a son and we grew very close".
"He told you a LOT about yourself, didn't he?" I didn't say anything.
She smiled. She took the last of the brownie and sipped her coffee and looked at me over the rim of the cup again and raised an eyebrow.
"WHAT?"
"YOu don't believe me. But I'm right. This is just some kind of . . . crazy conversation"
"Well it's a crazy conversation with a very pretty girl . . . who I would be afraid to French Kiss" She laughed at that.
"Or . . . let me . . . after all Vampiresses "suck" blood"
"The thought crossed my mind. So, I came into the bank and you recognized my "spirit"?
"Something like that . . . yes. Didn't your friend say the same thing? That he recognized something familar about you?"
"Yes. But we had that conversation after we became friends . . . and we'd been drinking"
"But he just said what he felt. He never took it back?"
"No. He does believe he and I are old friends."
"Hundreds of years old?"
"Yes."
"You're very close to him and his family."
"Yes. But again, that is a good assumption"
"You were a soldier, an officer. Each time. The same thing."
"So do you and I have a previous life? Were we lovers? Enemies? Competitors?"
"We were acquainted. I was always a vampire."
We had been talking for the better part of an hour. She sat patiently and kept looking at me to see my reaction and we didn't say anything until we finished the coffee.
"I dont' know what to think about you" I sat there and she smiled.
"I got it all right didn't I?"
"You made a good assumption and built on it"
"How did I know about the Rabbi? You're being Hebrew in one life? You being a soldier? An officer?"
"I don't know."
"I'm hungry. I could eat. There's a nice place next door." She sat there with her hands in her lap and looked at me.
"Okay. Let's do that"
"Okay. Let's"
We got up, I helped her on with her jacket. On the way out I gave a couple of dollars to two homeless women who were just outside Starbucks on Brockton.
"You're a nice guy G. Men don't just give money and look at people like you do . . . a protector."
"And you . . . YOU are really a vampire and need blood to sustain yourself? YOu wake up at night covered in blood and don't have a mate to satisfy your carnal needs when you hunt?"
"Yes!! Yes, exactly. . . . ." I opened the door to the restaurant for her, she took my arm . . .
"Table for two?"
G.
P.S. She had the prime rib . . . rare on the inside, seared on the outside . . . .
ACT I: You Can't Handle the Truth
Press Secretary Scott McClellan (begrudingly): Ladies and gentlemen, the president of the United States.
President George W. Bush enters stage right.
Bush: Ladies and gentlemen, I asked my press secretary to step aside for a moment so I may address you personally. You know, mano-o-mano. You see, Scotty sort of spins things for ya. He doesn't give you the full truth. He holds back. But I ain't gotta do that. Since you gave me a mandate, I see no reason to do that. So I'm just gonna shoot from the hip. Fire from the heart. Create WMD's of honesty. And if need be, I'll drop bombs on the evildoers, or disagreers, if you will. I'll smoke the nonebelievers out of their foxholes of nonebelieving. So that being said, let's start this off. (Looks around room). Ah, you there, the little guy with the cool hairstyle. Yeah, you.
Journalist 1: Mr. President, I'm trying to figure out what qualifications Harriet Miers has to be a member of the supreme court.
Bush: Well, that isn't a question, little guy.
Journalist 1: Oh, ok. What qualifications does Harriet Miers have? Why would you try to appoint her to such a position?
Bush: It's simple, shorty. She has been a loyal friend of mine for over ten years.
Journalist 1: Yes but...
Bush: Next question. You, the heavyset fella.
Journalist 2: Me, sir?
Bush: Are you heavyset?
Journalist 2: A bit overweight, yes.
Bush: Then you.
Journalist 2: Sir, Miers is not a judge. She has no experience being a judge. Why should her very first position as a judge be as a supreme court justice? It seems to me that she didn't earn such a position. A current judge should become supreme court justice.
Bush: Fatty, I don't know what your problem is. She has experience with judges. She has been standing in front of them for years, you know, lawyering.
Journalist 2: Yes, but...
Bush: Next question. You, the hot blonde in the back.
Hot Blondie (through gritted teeth): Mr. Bush, you received a lot of criticism for hiring Michael Brown to head up FEMA when he had no experience in handling a crisis. Subsequently, when a crisis arose, he was an admitted disaster, since he had no idea how to handle a crisis. Common sense would dictate that you would refrain from hiring unqualified friends to high positions after one such unqualified friend screwed up so badly. But instead you throw it in our faces by doing the exact same thing all over again. Aren't you worried that this is going to reflect negatively on your ability to lead?
Bush: Wow, blondie, that was a lot of big words for a blonde chick. Let me see if I can answer this. You people re-elected me. By doing so, you told me that you love what I've been doing. Why would I change anything? Besides, isn't the goverment here for me to increase the well-being of all my buddies? I thought that's what being president was all about. (Looks around the room again). You, you get to ask a question.
Journalist 3: I'm going to ask a follow-up from that question. The New York Times today wrote, "Mr. Bush stepped deeper into a political thicket that had already scratched up his well-tended image of competence, the criticism that he is prone to stocking the government with cronies rather than people selected solely for their qualifications." That honestly doesn't worry you at all?
Bush (snickering): What're you gonna do? Impeach me?
Journalist 3: Well...um...we could....uh...it reflects negatively on the party and...uh....well it...you just shouldn't....it could....uh...well...
Bush: Exactly. You elected me. I am doing exactly what I promised I would when I ran. Nothing is a surprise. This is exactly what I said it would be. You elected me. So what do you have to complain about? You got what you elected. I guess you just can't handle the truth. And people say I'm an idiot. Sheesh. You know, Miers is quoted as saying I am the most brilliant man she ever met. Seriously. Isn't that all the confidence in her you need? She obviously knows a winner when she sees one. And I'm a winner. (Places an air force helmet on his head). Alright folks, this had been fun, but I've got a sunny vacation waiting for me so I'm gonna hop on Air Force One, fly over New Orleans and look down at it from a safe place, use up three oil refineries worth of gas, and then ask you all to make sure you conserve. Be good. Oh, and give Brownie a break, will ya? He's good people. God bless him and God bless the United States of America.
(Screams come from the back.)
White house staffer: Mr. Press Secretary, don't...
(Gunshot. Press Secretary Scott McClellan's lifeless body slumps to the ground.)
Curtains close.
