I think I have talked before about how I must just have one of those faces that people just automatically trust or I tend to be around a lot of people who don’t bother with a censor. The discomfort with this has worn thin leaving a thick layer of amusement. The past week has offered me opportunity for this.

Our director is notoriously cheap and decided that the best way of getting the office moved across the parking lot was to contact the head of the men’s shelter in the next town and see if he would send some men over to move us. Last Monday, four men who appeared as though they had recently been dredged up from the bottom of a hole showed up to move our furniture. One old man looked a great deal like the old creepy guy who freaks McCauley Culkin out in the first Home Alone movie. He was very craggy with a scraggly white beard. He walked with a cane and I wondered how much help he would be. He worked hard and I caught him swearing in his efforts a few times. We sat alone in Darcy’s office eating pizza during a break. He told me that he was mean, ornery and nasty. I told him that I liked that in a person. He then informed me that it wasn’t true, but he liked to pretend. I told him that I often pretended to be nice. He told me about how he had loved working for the carnival in his youth. He ran the Ferris wheel –the old fashioned kind. He told me that there wasn’t much money in the occupation, but there were other benefits as women were always trawling the carnival looking for men.

Eyes wide and voice emphatic, he told me, “To tell you the truth, that’s how I lost my virginity. I was old for a young fella—21. She surprised me. She wanted to do it right there on the bank of the Ohio River and we did. We did it right there on the bank of the river. Afterward, we went to a bar and you know what? . . . She wanted to do it again before I took her home. She wanted to do it right near her house.” He ended the story with a laugh of reminiscence.

Christmas day was interesting. I woke up to the smell of turkey and reached the kitchen just as my mom was running to the bathroom to throw up. I worried about my mom and the possibility that I would have to take over all of the cooking she had started to feed our guests and that we would never get to the present opening. Mom recovered after sleeping in her favorite chair for a while. Presents were opened and dinner was prepared. Mom placed me in charge of the coconut sweet potatoes and even let me do the mashed potatoes. I think she’s slipping. My stepdad’s mother and his gay brother who happens to be on the wagon at this point in time came for dinner. My cousin Mark who always appears like he just spent several days in the woods showed up while he was waiting for his kids to finish their Christmas dinner with their mom. My stepdad’s cousin Patty showed up as we were serving desert.

According to my stepdad, cousin Patty was once a devastatingly beautiful girl who had been a model in California for several years and then something mysterious happened that changed her entirely. She packed on the pounds and seemed to lose all common sense. Her children have nothing to do with her anymore and her husband died from a heart attack a few years ago while he was helping Amish people load wood (I get such strange details from my mom).

So I sat with cousin Patty alone in the living room of my parents’ house and she told me this long twisty story of how she had been holding pot and some pipes for a neighbor who had found them in a teenage child’s room. Apparently right smack in the middle of the kitchen table was not a good hiding spot for the stash and paraphernalia and another neighbor kid broke in and stole this along with a gun and some jewelry. So, Patty proceeded to contact the police and did not bother to edit the list of stolen property, which led to her receiving fines and restrictions. She lamented over having to get rid of her alcohol and guns. She also told me how she would miss marijuana for the year that she would be subject to random “piss tests.” I had no idea how to respond to this woman in her mid 50’s telling me that although she loved wine, if she had to choose between wine and marijuana for the rest of her life, she would take the marijuana.

I was rescued when my stepdad’s mother and my mother came in and showed Patty the decorative metal balls that my stepsister had gotten her for Christmas. Patty admired the balls and promptly shoved them up her shirt as a second layer on top of her already ample chest. I don’t think I have ever seen anyone shove someone else’s Christmas present up her shirt before.

Love to all.