At Least They're Committed

K, k, k. So we’re sitting in CB&Potts after a rougher day than usual and I’m finally loosening up after one glass of wine and I’m recalling to D the bus ride to the meeting at the other campus today. I said it was funny cuz on the Van,  after everyone finished singing campfire songs (my Girl Scout experience is something I shan’t address, but suffice it to say, I wasn’t singin’) the women were chatting about artistic things I cannot and could never relate to. Sweet, quiet MDG started talking about a beautiful musical that she saw about (sniff) the life and (sigh) music of John Denver.

Oooooooops! Did she really say John Denver???

OK, so as she’s saying:

 “I didn’t realize how much of a fan I was of his until then. I cried throughout! Like when he met his wife!”

I said, “Did it show when he beat up his wife?”

Sweet Katy: “John Denver beat up his WIFE????”

MDG, “Um, it didn’t have that, but maybe before the alcholism?”

Me: “Uh, huh. Did it have where he shot his neighbor’s dog?”

(Gasps from all the women on the bus cuz there were no men.)

All at once: “John Denver did THAT???? NO!!!!!”

“The good news,” I interject, “is that last I heard they never found his head. I hear it’s still in the ocean somewhere.”

OK, yeah, I am just a ray of sunshine! But wait, there’s more!!!!

So on the way home on the Van nobody is singing camp fire songs, but CM starts talking about the magnificent mustang that, after 16 years in construction, is a breathtaking addition to DIA.

“The eyes are red!” she says excitedly. “I can’t wait to take my grandson to see it!”

Me: “Just don’t get too close.”

See, the artist, Luis Jimenez, was overcome by the artistic process. In this case, that means that after battling the city of Denver over financial, deadline and artistic differences, the upper portion of the horse fell on the poor guy and crushed him. Well, it’s not like I could let that slide past, right? Nooooo!

So I’m telling my husband all this and laughing my ass off and he says, “Jesus Christ!!” See, my family has a running joke/warning that when we get negative we say to each other, “OK Hazel!” which was the name of my Dad’s mom who really didn’t like much about the world or anyone in it including us, and we chuckle in humility and quickly snap out of it. Nobody, trust me, NOBODY wants to be called Hazel.

So as I’m recalling this to D in Potts it occurs to me that, no, I’m not just Hazel. I’m a “Oh my God, I’m . . . !!!” I exclaim then we both say together “Debbie Downer!” Hahahahahaha! OK, OK, I know I had a bad day and my earlier post was way too dark and boorish, but I promise, promise, promise to be Patti Bland (my funloving aunt) tomorrow at the Snug and from now on. I’ve learned my lesson. If I could just stop laughing I know I’ll feel bad about all this. Think I’ll take a flower to the folks on the van. Jesus! My bad!!! John Denver! Hahahahahahaha!!!!