Friday, February 9, 2007

Marco's Way

I’ve just put the little one who’s not that little but still small comparatively, to bed and I’m grabbing this moment to say hello. It’s the first chance I’ve had. I’m exhausted! It’s true what they say about parenting being the hardest job. I know it’s only been one day but it’s one of mine. It started off with Fagette making the best breakfast ever; your choice of eggs, bacon with maple syrup, chevre, foie gras, fresh figs, mimosa’s, caviar, the Sunday New York Times even though it was Thursday in Toronto. We ate in the living room which I would never have done before with the old rug. It was liberating. In the middle of breakfast, the doorbell rang and it was my friend Marco. He hadn’t dropped by in the morning for ages. It felt like old times. “Marco” I said, “ You haven’t dropped by in the morning like this in ages. What’s up?” He looked at me for a long time, like someone had ripped out his faculties and replaced them briefly with a case of pop and then restored them but with the memory of what had happened fully intact.
“Buddy”, he said, “ I have bad news.”
“Fagette, throw another cake on the griddle.”
“Aye aye monsieur.”
“Marco what is it? Is it your health because your health is all we have. Without our health we’re Russians.”
“Buddy your words are deep and I hear them believe me but this is more important than my health. It’s about your health.”
“Fagette, make Uncle Buddy another Mimosa and your Aunt Marco one too and don’t skimp on the vodka.”
“There’s no vodka in a Mimosa.”
“Just do as I say.”
She scampered off gratefully.
“Now what’s this about my health?” I asked.
“Oh. You don’t look good.” He replied.
“That’s it? That’s all you got?”
“Okay, you look like shit.”
“You’ve been looking a little rough lately.” He said. “Everyone’s been talking.”
“That’s crazy. I’ve been away. I haven’t gone out in months.”
“We’ve noticed.”
Fagette came into the room with the drinks.
“Fagette honey, the adults need to talk..”
She slunk out of the room like an obedient dog. That might be a problem. I went to take a big swig of my drink. and Marco put his hand on my glass. “Perhaps Fagette’s right. Vodka doesn’t go in a mimosa.” I pulled it towards me but he held fast. “But the champagne is okay though right?” I asked.” “Of course” he said ” It’s a mimosa. It’s not orange juice. Just remember, nothing hard till after dark.. I just want you to keep those blonde looks of yours so that people can enjoy them for longer that’s all. This isn’t an intervention. It’s just me Marco talking to you Buddy and all that history and all that implies. No need to turn this into World War 11.” He was right. World War 1 was awful. We didn't need another one. I agreed to his terms and called Fagette back in the room but she had disappeared.
Later after Marco left I went looking for her and found her in her room reading the manual for my new phone. She promised me she would help with the call screening function. I hated to disturb her when she seemed so happy but I wanted to make sure she was okay with what she had heard. I sat down on the stool by the bed and asked her if she understood everything that was going on and and she said, “Rita is my mother.” I nodded and then I asked her if she liked Marco and she said she didn’t know yet because she couldn’t get the picture of him pooping on the carpet out of her head. I really must tell her the truth. Besides it’s moot already because the reason for the lie was because of my fear of what Uday might do but my fears were for naught. They've become inseparable. In fact I just tucked her in and she was brushing him. I reminded him that my bed was still open and he looked at me like I was a Nazi doctor come to take his nuts. Oh yeah, already did that.



BiPolar said...

Fagette sounds like the best little visiting niece in the land. Children can be so wonderful when they belong to someone else. Fagette seems to be a multi-tasker from birth.

I mean really, how many kids haven't you met would jump right in to clean up Marco's steaming poo (brushing up never down) prepare you the best ever breakfast, squeeze fresh orange juice from fresh oranges with her bare hands, make nibblies and drinks when you need her to disappear then set-up your new phone for call block and call display. Those are your two most important features. I know you don't use it for outgoing calls.

You are right on track Buddy to be Nanny of the week. Sorry, I mean Nelly of the week. Kiddy visits on day two are generally reserved for cleaning house. Give her a "swiffer" and watch her go.

Watch silently as she attaches the "swiffer" to Uday's tail with duct tape. These are early warning signs of a multi-tasker.

While Uday is frantically dusting, pretend you've lost a slipper. Open every closet you've ever been in to subtly show her where you keep your cleaning supplies but only the ones that are for the apartment.

If you find a mop and pail, leave it by the fridge. Lie back pretending to sleep keeping one eye open the way you normally do and watch the fur fly.

After "swiffering" most kids will want to continue by vacuuming the cat. She will amuse herself (and you) by chasing Uday around the room trying to get his tail sucked up the vacuum hose. Cats love the attention. No bookshelf will be too high. Kids are clever Buddy.

Sounds to me while Fagette appeared to be brushing Uday last night she was actually planning her caper to vacuum him in the morning. Kids like to go to bed smiling, Buddy.

On day three before you wake, you'll find she's prepared all future meals for the week in order to spend more quality time with you.

Again, don't be deceived (not that Fagette is deceitful) by her good natured assistance. She's probably secretly recording your every word with her WIFI Blue Tooth digital recorder to be sold later at a Celebrity auction.

I've never known any Fagette not to play tricks. Don't worry. This time it's all for a good cause.

It will be money she can use to buy a new winter coat after she goes home. Assuming it's still winter and Rita comes back to get her.

Rita sounds as wacky as my Mother and I'm from a family of 43 children. Each of us from a different Mother and/or Father. We speak 9 languages at the dinner table.

By day three little Fagette will be asking to do your laundry. Again, she's probably looking for evidence to auction.

Buddy wrote; "Without our Health we're Russians"

Fagette will help you rest up from Marco's devastating "you look like shit" news. Remember they're only words Buddy. Just a few scrambled letters arranged to spell crap.

Apply plenty of moisturizer and keep your legs up to reduce the swellings. There's nothing more tragic than the truth.

Allison said...

“Okay, you look like shit.”
“You’ve been looking a little rough lately.” He said. “Everyone’s been talking.”
“That’s crazy. I’ve been away. I haven’t gone out in months.”

Hmm. It seems that there's only one way to settle this:

Post new photos of yourself. Maybe ask your niece to take them (since she seems to be good at everything else, I'm sure she's decent photographer too). Myself and the rest of your blog-readers will judge whether you've really been looking rough lately. ;)

P.S. It is preferable that you wear as little clothing as possible, so we can make a proper assessment.

Geheebers said...

I remember hearing a Torontonian remark that Canadians reminded him of "Russians pretending to be Americans...there's often a uni-brow, and hygiene doesn't seem to be that important...and always that constant stench of cigarettes and booze!"
Oh, Canada!
Fagette sounds like a perfect little lady - she's as comfortable mixing drinks and preparing meals as she is serving and cleaning up. Can she fold fitted sheets?

Lana said...

It's okay if you look rough. I like it rough.

(Okay, even I think my comment just went beyond the limits of good taste.)

Anonymous said...

Ive been trying to find contact info for you for a while I guess this is the only way to get ahold of you
could you please email me at, Id really like to interview u sometime for website Im gonna be starting
eternally grateful

PsycoticPenguin said...

Bipolar is right. She sounds perfect, but don't let that deceive you. And, don't trust Marco either. They may be working for Francesca. No feud could be mended that easily.

Jean said...

Buddy, I thought you said you lived in Montreal?