April's Real Blog

Thursday, October 18, 2007

Yet another party 4 Mike

U mite've thot the party Mike had @ Weed's place back in March wda been it 4 celebr8ing his book but U wda been wrong:
April,

Formerly little sis. As it turned out, April, my wife’s obsessive cleaning actually had a purpose for a change instead of just being a way for her to work out her frustrations. Josef Weeder was there, and he had to bring Carleen Stein along. Gordon Mayes was there too. They all came over to our house to celebrate the publishing of my book. Unlike last spring, when Weed threw me a party for the exact same reason, this time I had an actual book to show them. I put on my best Patterson man outfit (pullover sweater and collared shirt), Deanna put on a slinky black dress, Josef wore his usual black, and Gordon came with his shirt untucked and the front unbuttoned down to his chest (which means he came from visiting the…well…the place Gordon likes to go after work before he goes home), and nobody cares what Carleen was wearing.

We broke out the wine glasses and I was just about to settle into a nice comfy chair to receive the adulation of my adoring friends, when Josef Weeder decided to make a toast in my honour, and I had to get back up to clink glasses. Josef said, “Here’s to you, man! Michael Patterson-writer, author, and all-round great guy!” It was a special moment. I could tell because everyone’s mouths were open.

Then my kids crawled on the floor of the landing at the top of the stairs in order to peer down at the party below and inadvertently cut the lights off downstairs. So enthused was my Josef, it did not even slow him down. He continued with, “This is just the beginning, you know! With a second book in the works and an outline for a third, you’re well on your way!” I don’t know if I mentioned my third book to you or not, formerly little sis. I am thinking that if Stone Season does well, I might have to do a sequel to continue the story of Sheilaugh Shaugnessey, perhaps calling it Stone Season II: The Revenge of Harvey Rood, the Undead or Rock, Paper, Scissors Season or Sheilaugh.

Nevertheless, Weed’s kind words touched my heart. Even in the dark I could clearly see the admiration and fondness in his eyes and I moved closer to let him know his well wishes were highly appreciated. Then Gordon Mayes turned the lights back on, and I discovered my lovely Deanna was standing right next to me. It was quite disconcerting and it shook my otherwise confident demeanor. I said, “I just hope the first one goes well…if it’s a failure…” Deanna reached down and grabbed a certain part of me that succumbs easily to pain and said, “It won’t be a failure!!” The pain made my eyes move into the center of my head and I am sure fear onto my expression. I hate it when she does that. Fortunately, no one was looking in that direction, not even Josef. Then Gordon Mayes said, “Hey—there’s no place here tonight for misgivings!” At first I thought he was saying my house was a lot smaller than his, but then I realized he was simply saying a few words to restore my confidence, I think.

Little did I suspect that Gordon’s overheard words would provide me with more consternation with respect to my son. At the top of the stairway, I heard him say, “Who’s Miss Givings?” My daughter gave him an open palmed gesture and rolled her eyes at him. I wish she had answered him. He has continued this line of questioning ever since. I tell my son, “It’s not Miss Givings. It’s misgivings. You have misunderstood what Mr. Mayes was saying.” Then he says, “Who’s Miss Understood?” Then I say, “It’s not Miss Understood. It’s misunderstood. That’s another way of saying misinterpret.” Then he says, “Who’s Miss Interpret?” I tell you formerly little sis, it is enough to drive a father crazy, even a father who is on the verge of setting Canadian book-selling records.

Love,
Michael Patterson
Poor Robin. Dee told me she's looking in2 sum of those early-intervention programmes. And Mike sure has a congratulatory buncha friends. Y doesn't he get the kinda friend who calls him "spoiled" and looks for an expiration d8? Or who tells him "refugee" stories meant 2 show him how good he's got things?

Apes

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8 Comments:

  • At 7:23 AM, Anonymous Charlie Brown said…

    "Mike sure has a congratulatory buncha friends. Y doesn't he get the kinda friend who calls him "spoiled" and looks for an expiration d8? Or who tells him "refugee" stories meant 2 show him how good he's got things?"

    I have often wondered the same thing.

    My friend Linus is a big help to me when I'm down, but he doesn't have to tell me how bad his life is, because I already know. His older sister treats him like a dog (and she's not very nice to my dog either!), and yet she thinks she's qualified to practice psychiatry. Kind of the way your sister acts childish, and yet she's qualified to teach children. It makes my stomach hurt.

     
  • At 9:06 AM, Blogger DreadedCandiru2 said…

    It seems strange that your nephew and niece are so poor at hiding themselves, doesn't it? There they are in almost plain sight. Yet they go undetected. Why? Are the adults in their lives so oblivious that they don't see what's right in front.....never mind. I already know the answer to that question and it makes my stomach hurt too.

     
  • At 12:04 PM, Anonymous liz patterson said…

    April,

    Of course Weed and Mike's other friends had to give him another party and make toasts to him, because remember, Mike gave them free books, that shows what a spectacularly great all-around friend he is, you know, the only thing Mike's friends ever did for him was help him find a new apartment, help him get work, help him move, get me work, get me a motorcycle for free, get me a good deal on a car, give Dad someplace to go when he's bored, give my future husband work, and some other piddly stuff I'm not remembering right now, clearly, these friends are lucky to have Mike by their sides.

    Oh, and Miss Givins teaches at my school, it's sad, she doesn't have a future fiance like I do, she's been dating her guy a whole six weeks and still doesn't know if he wants to marry her, poor lady.

    Liz

     
  • At 6:17 PM, Blogger April Patterson said…

    charlie brown, so nice of u 2 stop by. yeah, lotsa ppl get stomach aches over lizzie's behaviour.

    dc2, yeah, mike an' dee r totally oblivious like that.

    liz? since when r u such a mike fan? have u 4gotten abt "lizardbreath" and "sistwirp"? oh, and it's not "miss givins," u freak. it's the word "misgivings," and robin getting it way wrong.

    apes

     
  • At 6:21 PM, Blogger April Patterson said…

    btw, mike, mom sez that when she called u 2 tell u how much u're her favourite, she cd hear robin in the background being all, "who's miss anthrope? who's miss demeanor? who's miss creant? mrs. sippi?" boy really needs help.

    apes

     
  • At 7:53 PM, Anonymous michael patterson said…

    April,

    Formerly little sis. Deanna has consulted with the Johnston Institute for Better Living’s pamphlet entitled, “So, Your Child is Stupid, but Funny. What to do?” The Top Ten suggestions were:

    1. Don’t let him get old enough for people to realize he is really stupid and not that funny.
    2. Encourage musical achievement, like harmonica or guitar.
    3. Give him a cute nickname to make him seem cuter while he is being stupidly funny, like Aypo.
    4. Continue to dress him as if he were younger, even though he is well past the diaper age.
    5. If Bill Keane’s lawyer calls, don’t answer the phone.
    6. Set him up with straight lines, so it takes the pressure off you to be funny all the time.
    7. Encourage him to try and float a boat in a local dangerous river (and make sure there are not dog rescuers nearby).
    8. Send him to a card shoppe to find a card, and then walk away and hope no passing meddler helps him find his way out.
    9. Teach an older female sibling the fine art of using a frying pan for self-defence.
    10. Encourage him to become an author.

    We are considering which of these options to pursue for our son. Any suggestions, particularly those involving home recipes and/or advice from older ethnic ladies would be appreciated.

    Love,
    Michael Patterson

    P.S. (Don't worry about Elizabeth suddenly supporting me. She just wants to get a spare free book.)

     
  • At 8:16 PM, Blogger April Patterson said…

    oh, gr8, so obviously the friggin' johnston institute thinks i'm stupid. or that i used 2 b stupid when i was little. or something. @ least they apparently think the same of u, mike.

    i h8 the johnston institute.

    apes

     
  • At 2:03 AM, Anonymous michael patterson said…

    April,

    Formerly little sis. Getting back to my party. I should mention there was a point in the party where my friends did ask for their free copies of my book, which I promised them, and Deanna was forced to head up the stairs to get them from wherever it was that she hid them. When she came back she reported that my children were on the stairs and my daughter was definitely acting like she was my daughter and not her daughter.

    To make a short story long, she went up the stairs and spotted my two kids lying on the landing at the top of the stairs looking in through the narrow door opening which led to the room where our party was being held. She said, “Hey, what are you two doing up?” This was a rhetorical question, since Deanna informed me she really was not interested in what they were doing up. My daughter did not realize the question was rhetorical and answered, “We wanted to see what was going on.” I think it was at this point my lovely wife realized either she had not actually told our children why people were coming to our house, or she did tell them and she forgot about their incredibly short attention span.

    She grabbed each of them by the nape of their neck and said, “Some friends are here to congratulate your dad on his book. Come on…it’s bedtime.” According to my wife, my son was too fascinated by the fact he could cast two individual, unconnected shadows with both his feet to respond. In contrast, my daughter cast no shadow at all, and complained, “Awww!” Deanna said it was about this point she was wondering if our daughter was actually a vampire or some other non shadow-casting member of the undead.

    My daughter did nothing to alleviate this suspicion, because she launched into the type of rejoinder a vampire child might pose, “Why do we always hafta go to bed? Why can’t we stay up as late as you do?” My wife reported that my son put his finger to his mouth as some sort of secret vampire signal to my daughter. So, Deanna responded, “Meredith, I am not going to argue with you tonight.” Vampires, you see, are much more powerful at night.

    According to my wife, my daughter got a strange look on her face, which was not so much vampiric as “eyes too close together” –ic. Frankly, I don’t know which one is more frightening.

    My daughter came back with “OK….We can argue in the morning.” Well, formerly little sis, that kind of argumentative style is pure Patterson. Make a pun about the time of day. My daughter was clearly not a soul-sucking vampire, unless you consider all Pattersons to be soul-sucking vampires. My wife simply concluded she was really my daughter. And then at that moment, she noticed my son had a weird sort of satisfied grin on his face, which could only mean one thing---time for a diaper change. I hope this doesn’t mean that hearing a good pun, causes him to lose control of his bowels. That could be very bad in our family.

    Love,
    Michael Patterson

     

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