Glimpse in2 our future?

There was sumthing super-weird that happened @ the reception 8 days ago. It was so bizarre, I've kind of blocked it outta my mind until just now!

@ the head table, Liz and Anthony were standing up, kinda huddling 2gether, looking @ Weed, who was crouching on the floor just in front of the table and taking a pic of Francie and Merrie holding hands while Shawna-Marie gave a toast just beyond them.

Meanwhile, a bunch of us were standing, kinda lined up and facing the head table. Lawrence (looking kinda purple) was standing on the left side. Gordo was to L's rite, but standing a bit in front. Then there was Mike, just 2 Lawrence's rite, holding Robin (asleep) and Dee leaning on Mike, like pressing her right cheek 2 his left shoulder while pressing her right hand 2 his back. Then came me, 2 Mike's rite, and then Dad, w/his rite arm around Mom.

Dad suddenly asked Mom, "Elly, if we cd go back in time, I mean... If I asked U 2..." And she interrupted him, saying, "Yes, John ... With all my heart." And just as she sed that last bit, Antman and Liz did a big, showy smooch @ the head table. And I was kind of disappointed she hadn't let Dad finish his question. What if he was planning 2 say, "If I asked U 2 join a commune in Upst8 New York?" Or sum other thing she didn't assume he was asking. Oh, well, she's known Dad longer than I have. I guess she doesn't have 2 let him finish his sentences.

But that's not even where things got weird. Suddenly, behind the head table, a big projection screen dropped down. A picture of Mom and Dad, seen from behind standing on some kinda deck and watching sum mountain scenery @ night, w/a crescent moon in the sky, appeared on the screen. And over the sound system, a voice that was booming and distorted, like the Wizard of Oz, said, "ELLY AND JOHN PATTERSON RETIRED TO TRAVEL, TO READ, TO VOLUNTEER IN THEIR COMMUNITY AND TO HELP RAISE THEIR GRANDCHILDREN!" I whispered, "Mom, U're already retired." And the booming voice sed, "NO INTERRUPTIONS FROM MARTIAN TEENAGERS!"

Then, there was an image of Gramps and Iris holding a baby. And the booming voice went, "GRANDPA JIM LIVED TO WELCOME ANTHONY AND ELIZABETH'S FIRST CHILD [together], JAMES ALLEN. JIM PASSED AWAY AT THE AGE OF 89, WITH HIS WIFE, IRIS, AT HIS SIDE.

Next, the screen showed Liz and the Antman dancing, she in an orange tank top and purple pants, and him in a yellow t-shirt and purplish-blue pants. The booming voice went, "ELIZABETH [Liz!] CONTINUES TO WORK AS A TEACHER. SHE'S DEVOTED TO HER WORK AND TO HER FAMILY, LOVING ANTHONY MORE EACH DAY." Then, the booming voice said, "THAT'LL SHOW THE HATERS!" The next image on the screen was Gord looking about 65 and Anthony looking like he does now, w/Anthony holding a newspaper that has a giant headline of "COTTAGES FOR SALE ." The booming voice went, "ANTHONY MANAGES THE MAYES MOTORS EMPIRE, HAS DRAWN HIS BRIDE INTO BALLROOM DANCING, AND LOOKS FORWARD TO OPENING A SMALL BED-AND-BREAKFAST."

Then, I kinda had to gasp at the disturbing image of Mike that was projected next. His lower jaw was distorted, like mayB Dad had just taken out all of his wisdom teeth. He was pictured sitting at a flatscreen computer monitor, holding up his head w/his right hand, and looking smug. The booming voice went, "MICHAEL PATTERSON HAD 4 BOOKS IN PRINT BEFORE SIGNING A FILM CONTRACT. HE CONTINUES TO WORK WITH JOSEF WEEDER AND TO WRITE FROM HOME--WHERE HE SAYS HIS INSPIRATION AND CONFIDENCE LIE."

Next, there was another disturbing image: Robin w/his mouth gaping open, muppetlike, his hair flipping up in a little curl on each side of his head, Merrie looking like she'd just gotten fresh collagen in her lips, staring ahead bug-eyed, and Dee w/her eyes squeezed shut apparently laughing at the most hysterical thing she's ever heard. Booming voice said, "DEANNA WORKED AS A PHARMACIST UNTIL SHE BEGAN A SMALL SEWING SCHOOL. SHE TAUGHT SON ROBIN HOW TO COOK. THEIR DAUGHTER MEREDITH WENT INTO DANCE AND THEATER. THE FAMILY GOES ANNUALLY TO THE MONTREAL 'JUST FOR LAUGHS' FESTIVAL." I went, "Sewing school? Why, does she go back in time to 1898?" The booming voice said, "DON'T MAKE ME HURT YOU, TEENAGER! SEWING SCHOOL IS PERFECT FOR DEE! SHE LOVES TO SEW! SHE LOVES HER SEWING ROOM! SHE REMADE MARIAN'S DRESS!!!"

I decided I'd better shut up for the moment, since there was suddenly a pic of me up on the screen, holding a horse by the bridle and kind of snuggling up, w/the right side of my face against the left side of the horse's. The booming voice told us, "APRIL PATTERSON GRADUATED FROM UNIVERSITY WITH A DEGREE IN VETERINARY MEDICINE. HER LOVE OF HORSES LED HER TO A JOB IN CALGARY AND AN OPPORTUNITY TO WORK WITH THE CALGARY STAMPEDE. COUNTRY LIVING AND A COUNTRY BOY KEEP HER 'OUT WEST'!" I said, "You know, through my veganism and Jivamukti yoga, I've adopted the philosophy that animals are not ours to use. Even if I were given the opportunity to work with the Calgary Stampede, I think I'd decline." And the booming voice went, "INGRATE VEGAN FREAK! WELL, MAYBE YOU'LL BE ABLE TO CHANGE THE SYSTEM FROM WITHIN!" I said, "Well, I guess I have around eight years or so to figure that all out." And the booming voice went, "WHATEVER!"

Next, the screen went blank and then just had text projected on it: "THE EXTENDED FAMILIES, FRIENDS AND ACQUAINTANCES OF THE PATTERSONS CONTINUE TO LIVE AND GROW, LOVE AND LAUGH AND EXPERIENCE LIFE AS WE DO... AS IF PART OF A COMPLEX NOVEL, WHOSE PAGES ARE CAREFULLY CRAFTED AND THEN TURNED BY ANOTHER HAND." Then the screen lifted up.

Francie went, "Wait! That's IT? What about ME?" She noticed some rustling behind a curtain on the right side of the reception hall and she ran and pulled it open. There, we saw the Witch of Corbeil! She was wearing a purple shirt, her hair had turned brown, and she was sitting at a drafting table! At first, she spoke into the microphone, so her booming voice was going, "PAY NO ATTENTION TO WOMAN BEHIND THE CURTAIN! I AM THE GREAT AND POWERFUL WITCH OF CORBEIL!" Then as she saw Francie start to tear up a bit, she pushed the mic aside and went, "Aw, heck."

Then she said, "Thank you-- To my syndicate, publisher, family, staff, readers and friends for encouraging me these past 29 years--as 'For Better or For Worse' grew from simple sketches to an intricate 'saga' involving many characters. If I could do it all over again... Would I do some things differently? ...I've been given the chance to find out!! Please join me again on Monday as the story begins again... With new insights and new smiles. Looking back looks wonderful!" Then she signed a piece of paper she had on her table and held it up. The signature was "Lynn Johnston."

How weird is that? I don't even know what to say. Well, except thanks 2 all of U who have been checking in on my blog since I started it back in June of 2005. U've been through my grade-eight grad, my "band" drama, zits, Liz being "come after," meeting Paul, Mike having fights with his neighbours, making fun of them in his column, Mom flapping and honking, Dad playing w/trains, being clueless, Liz throwing away her relationship w/Paul, Mike running back in2 a burning building to save his lappy while leaving Dee to "fend for herself" on the fire escape w/2 scared lil kids, and on and on. Tomorrow, I think everyone in Mboro will be dwelling on the past--remembered in a diff way from how ppl ever remembered it B4. And I'll be focusing on my last yr of senior secondary school.

So, I guess I'm kinda saying goodbye to U all. Keeping this blog has helped me not go too crazy, being surrounded by my crazy fam always treating me like I'm defective (when they're not ignoring me). I dunno if I might check in here now and then 2 upd8 U on stuff, but my daily updates are def. over. Big love to all of U!

Apes

The Day After

Well. The Day has passed. But, U know, it'll take me days and days 2 tell U abt it, and I can't even get up 2 the actual vows 2day!

While walking Nizzie down the aisle, Dad was thinking, "::sniff:: It's Elizabeth's wedding day... And I have 2 keep reminding myself.... that I'm not losing a daughter... ...I'm gaining an accountant." Har dee har.

Once he's delivered Liz 2 the Antman's side, the officiant will B all, "Elizabeth and Anthony, 2day yr firends and families R here 2 witness yr marriage, yr lifetime commitment 2 one another." Kinda like Anthony's lifetime commitment 2 Thérèse 5 yrs B4, eh? Then, he'll continue: "They will hear the vows U R soon 2 make. They will share w/U this joyous and solemn occasion and will B there 2 guide and support U...."

Anthony and Liz will look @ ea other sideways while the officiant goes, "Knowing that marriage is one of the most important obligations that NE 2 ppl will ever swear 2 uphold." Yeah, Anthony has sum xxperience swearing 2 uphold that obligation. 2 Thérèse.

Weed gestured for me 2 step away from the bridesmaid line a bit so he cd snap a pic of me w/Mom and Dad as the officiant went, "Marriage is a challenge, but so too... It is love. Marriage is patience and giving and caring and faith. It is honesty and openness and thoughtfulness and truth..." Yeah, unless U marry Thérèse? Then officiant-guy went on, "In that yr understanding of one another will lead 2 a gr8er understanding of yrself."

Weed went 2 the front and took a crowd shot while the officiant sed this: "Marriage is friendship and respect. It's the willingness to accept yr partner's qualities and differences, weak and strong." Unless yr partner is Thérèse, rite, Ant? Officiant went, "It is a promise made... And a lasting, successful, caring marriage is a promise kept... Again and again and again." @ that moment, Anthony and Liz shared a thought bubble of "I promise." Mom and Dad also thought, "I promise," only they had individual his-and-hers thought bubbles.

While that last bit was going on, I cd swear I cd hear people snf-snf-snffing, cutting sumthing out, and putting sumthing on their fridge doors. I have a feeling a bunch of those ppl will show up @ Lilliput's 2morrow 2 have coffee w/Mom and tell her how they had tears in their eyes cuz Lizzie's wedding reminds them of [their own/their kid's/their other relative's] wedding, and blahblahblah shoot-me-now.

Apes

Squicky premonition

Today, I woke up knowing another tidbit abt August 23 (Liz's wedding day), and now I wish I cd go back 2 bed and unknow it. Also, I think this is the same premonition Dreadedcandiru2 shared in a comment here this past Friday.

Now I know that Dad will come up 2 Liz (while still @ the TTH) and Liz will go, "What do U think, Dad?" And Dad will B all, "U're such a beauty, Elizabeth. I'm so proud of U." Then Weed will come up 2 them w/his camera and B like, "A portrait of the bride and her father B4 the wedding! Come in2 the lite, pls!" Then he will say, "...I want U 2 look @ each other and say sumthing wonderful... But say it w/yr eyes." So, Dad will give Liz one of those creepy sidelong glances Anthony's always giving her, while Liz will look up @ him (in profile 2 the camera) w/a schmoopy look on her face. And they will simulthink, "U're sumthing ...wonderful!!" They will both B thinking that b-cuz they're both so literal, and will not B able 2 avoid taking Weed's "say sumthing wonderful" as literally as they can.

Bleah. All this is still 11 days away, and already I'm so, so tired of it.

Apes

Liz will B off the hook 4 "repaying"

I woke up 2day knowing a bit more of what will happen on 23 August, the day Lizzie marries the Ant. Weed will B @ the TTH, where Liz and the bridal party will B gathered. And Carleen, still, like I mentioned yesterday. Weed will B taking pics, and he'll B all, "Now, a few shots of the bride getting ready! ...Look a bit frazzled, OK?" And Liz will B like, "I don't have 2 act, Jo!" "Jo"? Doesn't NE1 but me call him "Weed" NEmore?

Next, Carleen will B standing behind Liz fussing with the veil, and Weed will go, "Turn around, Carleen! We need the hair stylist in here!" If U R thinking, "When did Carleen, who is Weed's photography assistant and biz manager, become a hair stylist," I can't say I blame U! I think what's gonna happen is that when Mom finds out that my hairdresser, Sugar Van Rensselaer, is unwilling 2 don8 her services 4 free, she'll have a fit. And sumhow, sum1 will end up suggesting that Carleen knows how 2 do hair. How does she know how 2 do hair? I dunno (yet). MayB we'll find out, and mayB we won't. This is all pretty chaotic and confusing, I know!

So, where was I? Oh, rite! After Weed snaps his "hair stylist" pic, Carleen will tell Liz, "When he's done, U're going 2 have the most incredible album, Liz. He's up 4 another award, U know." And Liz will go, "Yes. I know." R U thinking that a bunch of the wedding-prep conversations R going 2 have a feel of establishing how well various ppl we know R doing in life? Same here! After Liz's line I just told U abt, Candace will B fussing w/Liz's bustle for sum reason (this doesn't seem v. Candace-like, but neither does being a bridesmaid in a strapless lavendar gown, so there U go). Liz will touch a hand 2 Carleen and go, "So many ppl R doing so much 4 me! U're making this day the most amazing day of my life!!"

Then, there will B this weird moment where Liz seems 2 B addressing an unseen TV camera, w/Candace standing just behind her rite side, clutching her rite shoulder, Dawn doing a left-shoulder clutch on the other side, then me behind Candace and Shawna-Marie behind Dawrn, clutching Dawn's left shoulder and kinda snuggling up 2 her. Liz will go, "What can I do 2 repay every1? I will B abt 2 say that thanking ppl wd B a v. v. good start, but B4 I have a chance, Candace will blurt, "Just enjoy it, girl!" And Dawn will go, "Yeah! ...This is our day 2!" Rite, cuz every1 is just so privileged 2 bask in the glow of a Pattercaine wedding, eh?

NEway, I guess I'll know sum more 2morrow. Or mayB sum1 else will wake up knowing sum stuff, like Mike did Wednesday.

Apes

Mike and Weed "Hug"

I'm sorry in advance 4 NE scarring images this entry mite create in yrs heads. Consider yrselves warned. Here is the l8est from Mike:

April,

Formerly little sis. Ah the good old days of university. I remember them well. Just the other day, when my lovely wife Deanna and I went to Toronto to our old apartment building to visit with Josef Weeder and his significant other, Carleen Stein; I was sitting in front of a coffee table which held some snacks, and I felt the rush of memories from days gone by. I said to Josef, “We’ve been friends for a long time, Weed.” Weed had his hand in the snack bowl and said, “I’m guessing it’s like 13 years.” Weed is not particularly good with exact dates and times because of all his years when Weed was not just a nickname but a way of life for him. However, 13 years seemed about right to me too.

I looked down at his hand in the snack bowl, and it brought forth another rush of memories. I said, “Remember? We were so broke!...Living in that dingy apartment…” I was about to mention our old landlady Mrs. Dingle but whenever I do that, I have to call and make sure she hasn’t had another stroke, I mean heart attack, no stroke. Anyway, Weed continued by saying, “Begging for laundry money…eating beans!” instead of eating fine snacks.

Suddenly it went dark and being in the dark with Josef brought forth another rush of memories of times when Weed and I were in university in the dark. Weed said, “And now we’re doing OK!” and he “WHAK”ed me in the head. I said, “Yeah! We’re doing OK!” and I “BOOT!”ed him in the knee. Then we were wrestling, just the way we had done in university. I grabbed Weed’s right arm while his left arm had me in a headlock. So, I put his left knee between my thighs and oh my…just a moment….I need to step back a little.

OK, I am back now. Just needed a little rest. Where was I? Yes, Weed and I were wrestling and I grabbed him from behind so his back was resting against my chest. His right arm was reaching back for my head, as he attempted to buck me off him. We were starting to get sweaty, as our bodies writhed against each other and…oh goodness…I need to take another brief rest.

Well, I feel much better now. I am certainly glad I got that out of my system. Unlike when I was in university rooming with Josef, this wrestling ended with my lovely wife Deanna and Carleen Stein walking into the room as Deanna said, “Isn’t it nice to see guys hug.” It was embarrassing, I must say. One of my biggest nightmares is the idea that my wife would walk in on me and Josef doing the types of things we used to do when we were young and foolish and living together in university. It is certainly not the kind of behavour she would expect out of her husband and the father of her children.

It just goes to show that when you have a good friend like Josef Weeder is to me, there is always that sense of playfulness about us, no matter how successful we may each become.

Love,
Michael Patterson

Uh, ew. And it was closer 2 14 yrs ago. Fall of 1994.

So, Friday. We get @ least another day of Mike and his book. NE wagers on whether this continues Monday?

Happy long wkend 2 my peeps in the st8s!

Apes

Mike wrings rungs

Mike has sum more 2 tell U all abt the whole "book" thing:

April,

Formerly little sis. I remember back to February 14, 2007, Valentine’s Day, a day when one spends time with your beloved. I remember it in particularly because I had gone to Toronto to get Josef Weeder to check out the contract for my book deal, when he revealed that he and Carleen were buying Lovey Saltzman’s apartments using a loan from Jo’s dad. Josef and I drove over to see the burnt out apartments where we used to live and Lovey was there. Then Jo described his plans for the apartments which looked like nothing but silhouettes back in 2007. It was a magical time and made especially magical getting to share it with Jo…and Lovey, and listening to him as he described his plans for the future.

Well, my lovely wife Deanna and I went to visit Carleen and Josef in those apartments after all their renovations. Let me tell you April, what a difference a year and 3 months make. They look like apartments again and not like silhouettes of apartments. Also, Josef and Carleen have moved into the downstairs landlord spot previously occupied by Lovey and her husband, the never-seen and practically invisible Morrie. I think someone was taking care of our kids while we went there. Hum! Was that you? I forget.

In any case, since this was shortly after my book had been published, most of the conversation naturally revolved around that, as it was the social event of the Milborough season. Carleen was there, and she looked more like the Carleen I remembered from years gone by, except for that bulge in her pants. At least her face was almost back to normal. She said to me, “You’re gonna be famous, Mike!” This was, of course, another tip-off it was not really Carleen, who almost never says things like “gonna”. However, I did not want this fake Carleen to know I was on to her / it; so I responded the only way a Patterson could respond, which was, “I don’t want to be famous, Carleen…I just want to make a decent living.” I am sure you know the kind about which I am talking, formerly little sis, i.e. just like mom and dad make a decent living.

Josef Weeder pointed out that “If this book sells like the last one, you’ll be sailing!” This is what I love about the man. He can come up with a pun, and it isn’t even the end of the conversation. “sailing” is a reference to the storyline of Blood Cargo, about a young sailor on a sailing boat in 1874. Josef was handing out champagne flutes as he said this and when I realized it was Josef handing out refreshments instead of Carleen, who usually does it, I had another confirmation for my suspicions. I reached for the champage to have one, while saying, “You’re not doing so badly!” It was subtle….probably too subtle… to let him know I was onto this fake Carleen.

By the time Josef handed out champagne flutes to all 4 of us, he responded with “Yeah, we’re paying down 2 mortgages and putting some in the bank!” Deanna said, “Life is good!” because she loves getting to drink alcohol. I think she missed the part of Josef paying down 2 mortgages, which is not exactly a model of life being good. The 2 mortgages are the one on his photography studio and the one on those apartments he bought from Lovey.

Suddenly it went dark. Josef said, “Damn it. I have to go get a ladder and climb up to the attic to fix that.” And he said in yet another spectacular pun / toast, “To climbing the ladder!” Which we repeated back to him. You see, April, Josef had to get a ladder and climb it, but the phrase also means becoming more successful, so it works as a pun with the conversational topic.

Then I raised up my champagne flute and said, “And, here’s to those who helped us onto the first rung!!” Those champagne flutes were awfully skinny and I noticed my hand practically had to mangle itself to hold it. Deanna said, “Mike. Hold it normally, or you are going to spill it all over…Sheesh, Mike. What is it with your family and deformed hands?” Josef said, “What do you mean? Are you saying I should raise a toast to my father, who loaned us money for this property? I pay him interest, man, and he makes a big stink about how flaky photographers are when we are even the least, little bit late.” Carleen said, “Now, Josef. Don’t exaggerate. You and your father are getting along better than you ever have. Now that he’s seen you’re with a nice Jewish girl and not chasing after Shiksa models and you are willing to make investments, I am sure he will put you back in his will.” Deanna said, “I am sure Mike is just talking about me. After I got the job as the pharmacy manager, I started making enough money so that Mike could quit his job at Portrait Magazine and work full-time on his writing.” And of course I pointed out that although those were excellent guesses, I was really making a toast to our mom. Without her help and those fabulous editing skills, I would have never done as well as I have done. Deanna was in a foul mood the rest of the night. It was a mistake to let her drink. She cannot handle her alcohol.

Someday, April, when you are a famous veterinarian, you can look back on that moment when you realized that if it weren’t for mom, you wouldn’t be climbing the ladder of veterinary success.

Love.
Michael Patterson

Yes, Mike, it was me watching yr kids. U're welcome. And I think U R so pun-obsessed, U R forcibly C-ing them where they weren't even intended. But NEway, whatev I achieve will B from working super-hard. In spite of Mom.

Anonymous, about Lilliput's. If U weren't reading Mom's monthly letters regularly back when we were still doing those (and I wdn't blame U), U mighta missed where Mom discussed selling books for grown-ups. She lamented that classic literature didn't sell better than it did and mused that it might fare better if she gave the old classics categories like "bodice rippers" and "thrillers." I suggested that they might redecorate the store so that ppl don't assume they don't sell grown-up books, but Mom doesn't listen 2 me.

Apes

Mike Goes Diva on Weed

Mike has another lil dispatch 4 U, from the land of his ego:

April,

Formerly little sis. I don’t think I mentioned yesterday why I was at Josef Weeder’s photography studio. You may have thought it was so I could show him my new book, but actually I was there posing for publicity shots. For some reason I am not quite sure about, my publisher Reiner and Browne did not have me do publicity shots for my first novel Stone Season; but they said that the quality of my second novel Blood Cargo was of such a level that they wanted people to be able to recognize my face and associate it with my writing. Naturally, I recommended my old friend Josef Weeder for the job, since he is the best photographer in all of Toronto, and also because he would be willing to do the job for what Reiner and Browne was willing to pay.

When I approached Josef about it he said, “Mike. For this kind of money, all you’re going to get is a handheld camera, no backgrounds, one light and you seated in front of a posing table with Carleen handling only one reflector.” That sounded like a lot to me so I naturally reacted with a “Wow!” As we started, I sat at the table with my arms crossed and I said, “I never thought I’d be posing for publicity shots, Weed!” Weed was ever the professional and said, “Head up a bit?” and he pointed his finger up to show me which direction that was. Unfortunately, he shot the picture with his hand still in that position, so he got a nice picture of me with his hand in front of my face. I told him that picture probably wouldn’t work. He said, “I know, Mike. Now stop talking.”

But I couldn’t help myself, I was so excited. I said, “I don’t want to change, you know? I don’t want to become someone I’d normally dislike!” I sensed Carleen was behind me adjusting the reflective screen. She was muttering something like, “As if it that were possible.” I said it was such a kind thing to mutter, how I couldn’t possibly become someone icky. Josef said, “There’s a shadow, Carleen. Shut up, Mike. All we are getting are pictures of your jaw moving.”

I held a copy of my book in front of me so the picture could take in the title Blood Cargo. Josef said, “Mike, man. I know you are working hard to set up some kind of bad pun; but can’t you stop talking and wait until after we finish taking your picture? All these pictures are going to be blurry.” I said I would; but then I realized I wanted to point out something and I said, “I want to stay grounded and true to myself and to everyone around me. I don’t want this bit of success to go to my head.” I saw a “Poof” go off in front of me.

I said, “Was that the camera going off, or did someone cut the cheese? Carleen was that you?” Carleen said, “No, Mike. ‘Poof’ symbolizes the longevity of your career as an author.” I thanked Carleen again for yet another compliment and I noticed that Josef had all the photographs he had taken up on his computer screen. I said, “That’s an awful lot of pictures for one ‘Poof’.” For some reason, Carleen started laughing when I said that.

I rushed over to Josef and gave him as much affection as I could with Carleen there. I touched him gingerly and lovingly on the shoulder and said, “…are you leaving enough space for my autograph?” Josef grimaced and said, “Sure Mike. You can sign right over the blur that is your mouth in every single one of these pictures.” He was in a bad mood for some reason. Artists, even photographic artists, can be quite moody sometimes.

That’s it for today, April. More tomorrow. I know your readers can’t wait.

Love,
Michael Patterson

Aw, Mike, U're already someone most of us normally dislike. I wonder if becoming someone U wd normally dislike wd make U more likable to the rest of us?

Apes

Mike has another book

U mighta noticed Mike's recent mention of his 2nd book in his comments here. Now he's got more 2 say:

April,

Formerly little sis. Do you remember Carleen Stein, Josef Weeder’s assistant? I certainly thought I did until I went by Josef Weeder’s studio to show him my second book Blood Cargo. Josef was there setting up a screen for his studio and there was a sort of mannish woman there in a short skirt motioning for me to sit by her on the chesterfield. I said to Josef, “Who’s this?” and he said, “Mike, man. Don’t be an idiot. That’s Carleen.” It was very confusing to me; but I sat down on the chesterfield anyway.

Carleen(?) said to me, “Book two, Mike! I’m so impressed!” Then Jo said, “Great read, man. A real thriller.” This told me that Josef had read my book and this so-called Carleen was just trying to make conversation. She continued, “How do you think of this stuff? I mean, you look like a normal guy—but you come up with all these ideas!” I did not like what she was saying. It was almost as if she were saying that a normal guy would not come up with an idea to write a thriller about life on a windjammer. Or perhaps she was saying that normal guys don’t have any ideas. I am not sure which one, but either way it was a little insulting. It’s hard to answer a question that’s also an insult, so I said, “I dunno, Carleen.”

Then she prattled on, “You must go nuts with all this material, all these images, all this dialogue pounding around inside your mind!” Again, this Carleen was yammering about my mental instability. I think it was around then that I thought about all the other times I had heard Carleen talk, and I realized she had never said so much to me ever before as she said right there on the chesterfield.

It was then I knew it wasn’t really Carleen. The only things that were the same were her two dimples which move around her face, her hair colour, and her gender. Now that I think about it, I am not so sure on the gender part. It was disturbing. All I could do was to say, “Yeah…” and tried to think of a way to answer her question; but all I could think was “and sometimes it’s totally empty” as I imagined myself sitting in front of my computer with sweat running down my face. Everyone knows that when a writer can’t come up with ideas, he sweats profusely. OK. Writers don’t really sweat like that, except for the really fat ones, and they are sweaty all the time, regardless of writer’s block. I like to imagine myself sitting in front of a black computer, even though mine is white, with a big white empty thought balloon beside me for colour contrast. It is a very satisfying experience, and oftentimes can help me forget very stressful things like why Carleen Stein doesn’t look even remotely the same as she used to.

That’s all for now on my novel and this bizarre person trying to pass for Carleen Stein. Maybe more tomorrow.

Love,
Michael Patterson

Hey, Mike, sum ppl just radically change in appearance 4 no known reason. Like my friend Eva Abuya. She used to have darker skin and a wider, more prominent nose. But then one day she showed up pale and petite-nosed, and swears she didn't have surgery or have her skin bleached. And Liz sez that Warren looks different each time she sees him. And as U know, Connie has taken 2 resembling Gramps. I'm guessing Carleen's changes Rn't as drastic as sum of the examples I listed, eh?

Apes

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

Blahblahblah Mike's Book

Mike's got sum more 2 say abt his book:

April,

Formerly little sis. As you know, April, sometimes Deanna tries to hide things from me. You may go into a marriage thinking it’s about sharing everything and being open and honest; but a lot of a marriage actually is in the hiding. I was reminded of this just recently when I got my shipment of copies of my new novel Stone Season from my publisher Reiner and Browne. After my family got over its fascination with packing peanuts, we discovered there were 8 more books in that tiny box, which my son had not found.

Naturally I had to get on the phone immediately and tell people about the shipment and share the wealth with my closest friends. Of course, this was made a little difficult when I realized that Deanna had placed a bowl of fresh fruit on the kitchen counter and its similarity to my banana-shaped cell phone, detained me a little while until I realized which was the cell phone and which one was the oddly-shaped banana. I don’t know why Deanna bought those fruit. It’s not like Pattersons eat that kind of stuff.

Anyway, the first person I had to call was mom, since she edited my novel, so the editors at Reiner and Browne wouldn’t have to.

I said, “Mom! Mom said, “Mike. I need something to get Iris to relax and maybe have a good nap. Do you know of anything?” I said, “My book is out!” Mom said, “You mean your book is gay? No, wait. I understand now. That idea is perfect, Mike. That book will put anyone to sleep, even old tightly-wound Iris.” I said, “They sent me 10 copies!” Mom said, “I am not going to pay for it, Mike. I edited that thing, and I think that is payment enough. Just bring one over, the next time you come to eat out of my refrigerator.” I said, “I’ll get one over to you as soon as possible!”

That call reminded me it was close to supper time. However, I remained steadfast and the next person I called was my best, true friend in the whole world, Josef Weeder. I said, “Hello, Weed?” Weed said, “Look, man. Carleen’s voice does not sound like mine. What do you want?” I said, “Great news! My book is here!”
Weed said, “That was fast. What did they use for the cover---the house that doesn’t look like a sod house or the hunchbacked woman in a bonnet? I bet they used both, didn’t they?” I said, “Yeah, man—It looks great!” Weed said, “Look, man. I’d love to see it, but I’m not going to Milborough to get anywhere near that whacked-out family of yours.” I said, “I’ll bring you one!!” Weed said, “Great, man. Come by the apartment at 1 pm, when Carleen is out doing her hair.”

After talking to Weed, the next person to call was the main man of Milborough, the great Gordon Mayes. I decided to switch ears with the phone and use my left ear instead, and when I did that, I suddenly went to silhouette. I think because it was so dark, I didn’t even notice my lovely wife Deanna entering the room. However, I couldn’t stop my phone call to Gordon, just because of that.

I said, “Gordon!---It’s Mike!”Gordon said, “Mike who? Please let it not be Mike Patterson.” I said, “My book’s out!” Gordon said, “Crud!! It’s Mike Patterson. Now, Mike. I want you to listen to me carefully. Whatever you do, do not give me a copy of that book.” I said, “Of course you’re getting one!—A signed copy!!” Gordon said, “Great! When you come by to give it to me, could you come in the entrance marked ‘Danger! Killer dogs!”

That Gordon is always a joker. Now here’s the interesting part, formerly little sis. I switched the phone back to my right ear and the lights turned back on. It goes without saying that switching from one side to the other reminded me of my old buddy, Lawrence Poirier.

I said, “Hey, Lawrence! Guess what!” Lawrence said, “Mike. I am not lifting or carrying anything for you. I am not fixing your father’s roof for you. I am not recommending anyone to fix your father’s roof for you. I am done with it, Mike.”

Then I noticed my lovely Deanna picking up the box of books and walking away. I dropped the phone with Lawrence and chased after her. As she reached the second floor, I said, “What are you doing?” Deanna replied without even looking back over her shoulder (which is the usual Patterson woman stance), “Saving a few copies for US!” Then she was around the corner and the next I saw her, she didn’t have the box anymore. She had hidden it. I tried to find it, but when my wife wants to hide things from me, I can never find them.

I said to Deanna, “I thought our copies could be the two my son is playing with.” Deanna said, “Robin destroyed those copies in about 5 seconds. That left 8 copies, and then you were giving away 4 copies to your mom, Jo Weeder, Gordon Mayes and Lawrence. We need to keep 4 copies, just in case your grandparents or your Uncle Phil or your Auntie Bev might want one.” I almost laughed in her face. Those people are so far out of my life, I’ll probably never see them again. It wasn’t any problem to leave them out. However, sometimes you have to do what makes your wife happy, which is another way of saying, “I still can’t find those books she hid from me.”

Love,
Michael Patterson

Hey, Mike, speaking of your book. Something I thot U mite like 2 know--Merrie called me up yesterday 2 ask me 2 help her set up an eBay account 2 sell one of the copies Robin was playing w/yesterday. Namely, "the one that gots the front cover on the back and the back cover on the front." U mite wanna look in2 that, eh?

Apes

Mike loses his words

K, so now that it's Thursday, Mike's ready 2 share a bit of what happed @ his "OMG author!" party this past Saturday. Here's what he posted last nite:

April,

Little sis. Sometimes there are occasions or situations which can leave even the most accomplished speaker at a loss for words. Such was the scene at my Congratupalooza, when my good friend Josef Weeder stood on top of a previously-unseen platform to address the collected gathering of my well-wishers. Josef started off with, “Ladies and Gentoids, may I have your attention, please!” This is a perfectly normal way of addressing a crowd, except, of course, for the word “gentoid”. As I was standing there, I wracked my brain, running down the list of all the slang words I know, and yet a definition for “gentoid” did not come to mind. The obvious word derivation of the first syllable “gent-“ is short for “gentlemen”, which is the word which normally accompanies the word “ladies” in these kinds of addresses. However the suffix “-oid” means “resembling or like,” and is used in the formation of adjectives and nouns (and often implying an incomplete or imperfect resemblance to what is indicated by the preceding element), like anthropoid or planetoid. I was struck with fear. Had my good friend, Josef Weeder just insulted every man in the gathering, by saying that they were incomplete or imperfect gentlemen? And if that was his intention, did he say it out of jealousy for the male attention being given to me by my guests? It is true that I could not think of a man in the room who meant more to me than Josef Weeder, but is it possible that I had not communicated that to Josef in some way? Did he doubt me, after all the years we have been together?

I can tell you little sis. I feared what Josef would say next. Then he said, “Tonight’s soirée is in honor of writer extraordinaire – Michael Patterson! He has just signed his first contract with a publisher…” My mind was racing again. Josef used not one French word, but two. He knows how I and my whole family feel about the French. This was a definite insult. Not only that but he said “honor” without the “u”, which is a slight to all us Canadians. Those 3 words spelled “doom”, not the word but the outcome. I had done something to upset Josef. I looked down at all the people who had gathered before me. My friends, family, and business associates and they all went black, with a light white outline. They had gotten the subtle insult in Josef’s introduction. I rolled up the sleeves on my shirt and prepared to do physical battle in order to regain my honour, with a “u”. I know I had a grim look on my face as I approached Josef. Deanna later told me my face was less “grim” and more “old man without dentures in”, but it doesn’t matter. I made my way past the strangely-coloured balloons which were hanging in midair next to the platform.

Then Josef said, “On behalf of your friends and family-and this is from the heart, man…congratulations on becoming an AUTHOR. “ And as he said it, Josef put his hand to my heart. There were no more French words; after all, Josef could have said “auteur”. There was only the warm feeling I get whenever Josef touches my chest and his heartfelt congratulations. My bad feelings melted away like ice on a Milborough street. I should have known Josef would be feeling a tad jealous, but would never let it get in the way of our friendship. My feelings welled up inside of me. As the crowd started saying my name, the word balloons seemed to come at me from all sides--- to my left, to my right, disembodied directly over my head, and even cutting into the old brain cavity a bit. I could feel my eyes going googly. I could feel my head or my ego expanding or elongating. I am not sure which. It was too much for me, little sis. Your big brother, the soon-to-be-published, best-selling author had finally reached one of those situations I described in my first paragraph. I was speechless.

Then I remembered what my old English teacher had told me back in J school. She said, “Mike Patterson. When you have nothing to say, it really is better for you just to say you have nothing to say than to try to say something; because when you have nothing to say, your work is considerably worse than the awful material you produce when you do have something to say.” Those words came at me from my past and escaped onto my lips as I said, “Um…I…don’t know what to say.” I guess that old English teacher was right about something after all. Let that be a lesson to you little sis---When you have nothing to say, just say it.

Love,
Michael Patterson

Rn'tcha glad U asked? U didn't ask? Nev mind. Mike, it sounds like U just never noticed that Weed isn't v. smart and that he's pretty immature 4 a guy who's gonna B 31 this yr. I think that's Y the "gentoid." He prolly thot it sounded cool and "alternative" or sumsuch.

Apes

What I've heard

Well, as U know, while Mike's Congratupalooza party was going on @ Weed's place, this past Saturday, I was home babysitting the littles, Robin and Merrie. So what I'm gonna tell U is a lil of what I heard.

I heard that when Liz arrived with Warren, Liz was all, "I'm glad U cd come w/me 2nite Warren!" And then Warren sed, "Oh, is that what U have planned 4 us l8r?" Just kidding! Kidding, Liz, don't hit me! No, Warren was all, "Whoa! This is such a cool place!" There is way 2 much "whoa" in our collective lexicon, peeps! NEway, Liz was all, "These R all Mike's friends. Sum of them he's known since grade school. Others R writers and illustr8ors, bizness associates...."

Looking @ a photo on the wall, I hear Warren was all, "What is this, a photo studio?" And that Liz was, like, "Uh-huh. Jo [Jo?] has shot sum of the best-known models!" There's a rumour floating abt that @ just that pt, Warren was thinking, "Whoa! --Ask him 2 bag a couple 4 ME!!" But Liz insists there's no way that's true.

Apes

Lovey moves and Mike an' Weed watch

Mike an' Weed went 2 Lovey (cuz it's what they do), an' Mike wrote this:

April,

Little sis. Some days everything is bright and clear. Other days, the visibility is so poor that when you look at buildings or people, all you see is a vague outline and no discernible features. But then you will have something right beside the vagueness which is so clear and distinct it makes you wonder why you can’t see the things standing right next to it. I think I may need to get glasses. I thought about getting glasses a long time ago, but mom talked Elizabeth into getting them instead.

After our coffee together in his studio, Josef mentioned that even though he has not yet purchased the old apartments on Devon Road from Lovey Saltzman, she and her husband Morrie were moving out, even as we spoke, and he suggested we should go and visit and watch the moving men strain and flex their muscles against the weight of Lovey’s enormous collection of broken antiques. That sounded like a good activity to me. We got to the old house and there in front of the house was a clear and distinct moving truck with the word “Moving” on the side, with a box which apparently had been dropped on the ramp to the truck, to effectively block the way of anyone trying to move things to the truck. I whispered to Weed, “Least expensive movers in Toronto, I suppose.” Weed said, “Lovey wouldn’t have it any other way.” But when we tried to get a look at the movers, I noticed the house and the movers and even myself were hazy and indistinct. I said to myself, “It kind of defeats the purpose of coming her, if all I can see is the outline of the movers.” Then an outline approached me which could be none other than Lovey Saltzman herself, and sure enough she greeted us, me first of course, “Michael! Josef! So good to see you!!”

Then Lovey began one of those conversations in her usual style where she says a lot of things without asking or expecting a response, as if she were carrying on both parts of the conversation. She said, “Morrie and I are moving to a condominium. We should have done it years ago.---Jo told you he’s buying this place? It’s a good thing. I gave him a good price. He’ll make it nice again.” I went through what she said in my head, and the only thing I learned new over my conversation with Josef was Lovey and Morrie Saltzman were moving to a condominium and she wished she had done it before. The message was clear to me. She should have sold the apartments before the Kelpfroths moved in and burned the place, so she could get a better price for it.

Then we turned as one and looked at the old house, or rather we looked at the outline where the house was supposed to be, and Weed surprised me by saying, “We’re gonna gut all 4 apartments, put in new wiring, new plumbing---really do a job on ‘er!” I tried to think if Josef had ever dropped an “h” at the beginning of a word before. I couldn’t remember it ever happening. Was my old university roommate turning into a Cockney?

While I was thinking about Josef Weeder playing the part of Alfred P. Doolittle in a production of My Fair Lady singing “I’m Getting Married in the Morning”, everything went black around me. I could Weed clearly and Lovey clearly, but as for myself, I felt as though I had turned into a giant shadow towering over Josef. Then Josef said, “It’s a big investment, but eventually the tenants will pay it off.” “Big investment”, I thought. Was Josef referring to my sudden increase in height? No, my special punning sense revealed the humour was going to come from Lovey Saltzman. She said, “That’s true. You’re young. You’ll live long enough.” Weed looked puzzled, I think perhaps because Lovey could have said more effectively, “That’s true. You’re young enough to see it paid off before you die.” I thought about my especially humourous edited version of what Lovey said and I could not but help to laugh with a sticky-out tongue, even though I was still shrouded in darkness.

What do you think, little sis. Is my vision going, or do you experience hazy vagueness or blackness in your life?

Love,
Michael Patterson

Yeah, Mike sumtymez I have the blackness, tho mayB not "hazy vagueness." Oh, an' I vaguely remember that when Gordon took over Daly's Garage, and U went 2 C him, when U came back U sed that Gordo kept referring to the place as 'er just like U R saying Weed did abt Lovey's bldgs.

Dunc, OMG, sorry, I didn't C yr message until this morning. Pls don't run away fr. Mboro!

Apes

Mike envies Weed

So, here's the next bit of what Mike hasta say abt his recent visit 2 Weed's studio:

April,

Little sis. The times are few when a Patterson feels the pang of the green-eyed monster of envy, and yet it is appropriate on today, Valentine's Day for me to discuss how this situation occurred during my conversation with Josef Weeder. I discussed yesterday how Weed filled up my cup with his warm coffee and after he was done, we relaxed on the chesterfields in his studio, looking into each other's eyes and discussing our shared experience. We also discussed the fire.

Josef said, "We were all thrown for a loop when the fire happened. I mean—moving out of our apartments, having to get the smoke out of everything…" I crossed my legs and looked at Weed. What was he trying to tell me with this rehash of the fire story again? It must mean something more than just smoke-removal. Obviously, "we were all thrown for a loop" is a reference to the chaos of Weed's and my life having to live in different places and not being able to see each other nearly as often as we used to. But the part of smoke removal confused me. If you remove smoke, you can see things more clearly, but what did Jo see?

I was puzzling on this puzzler, when Weed said, "But listen to this! Lovey Saltzman wants to sell the place---and Carleen and I are going to buy it!" I uncrossed my legs and leaned forward and said, "You are?!" You will notice the placement of the question mark and the exclamation mark show the level of my shock. If you will remember, little sis, back to October, 2005, I had convinced Josef to buy both of Lovey's 2 buildings with me, only the have the idea squelched by our respective others, in the form of Carleen and Deanna. Now I wished I hadn't listened to Deanna. A twinge of the green-eyed monster made an appearance but disappeared again. In addition to being able to torture the Kelpfroths, I knew I would be able spend time with Josef for the rest of our lives, so long as we both lived there. But now it will be just Josef and Carleen in the apartments, and I will be an occasional visitor. Not only that, but it dashed any dreams I may have had about Josef moving to Milbourough to be closer to us there. I tried to restrain my emotion as Josef went on.

Next Josef discussed his financial situation. He said, "We own this building—All the space is rented out. I have collateral…and…my dad is gonna gimme a loan!" I wanted to scream out, "NOOOO!!! Don't put together gonna and gimme in your sentence." That's not it. I remember now, I wanted to scream out, "NOOOO!!! Don't take a loan from your parents. They will never let you live it down." But then I remembered Weed didn't have my mom for one of his parents, and my sense of relief was palpable. I felt so happy; I thought it was time for a photography joke. I said, "I thought your dad was out of the picture, Weed." Get it, little sis, "out of the picture". Weed followed up my joke with yet another one by saying, "When it comes to making money, Mike…my dad is totally in focus." Then he sat and looked contemplative. Normally, I would be quite elated Josef had punned using my pun as a starting point, but this time, countenance turned black, I mean to the green-eyed monster of envy.

How lucky Josef Weeder is to have a father upon whom he can depend to get a loan to purchase a Heritage Home. My own father is known for his generosity. He gave money to Lawrence and Nick and Gordon Mayes to get their businesses started. And yet, while we are all piled into the bedrooms of his own house on Sharon Park Drive, I have never heard my dad say, "If you want to purchase the Heritage House, I will be glad to give you a loan." How could it be that I, who once pitied Josef Weeder for his parent's lack of attention, was now envious of his fathers' attention?

It was a strange to thing to consider, but then it passed. After all, who needs the green-eyed monster around? It's just another party invitation.

Love,
Michael Patterson

U can just C their "special" relationship shining rite thru, eh?

Mike, I wdn't B THAT envious if I were xxpecting a $25K cheque. U can make a downpayment on a good house w/$25K. I'm just saying.

Apes

Punning on "Tense"

Mike wrote sum more abt his recent visit 2 Weed's studio in TO:

April,

Little sis. Just when you think Josef Weeder could not be any more talented, he proved to me that not only is he a superb photographer, but he could also make a living as a party planner. During my most recent trip to visit him in Toronto in his studio, he suggested I should have a party to celebrate becoming an author. I thought he was joking, but he said, "We can use my studio! Look at the space! Invite everyone! Family! School buddies. Guys from work! Make it BIG! B.Y.O.B., right? We line up a food trough, score some seats, wind up the tunes an' ta-daah!"

I expected Weed to finish that last sentence off with "Ta-daah, you have a party." But he didn't. All I could do was stand there, with my hands in my pockets, incredulous at the idea. Little sis. As you are probably old enough to know by now, people in Milborough don't throw parties in the same places where they work. They throw parties in their homes or in hotels. In fact the last party Deanna and I were invited to was Gordon and Tracy's New Years' Eve party in 2003 and that was at Gordon and Tracy's house. Weed's studio is in Toronto, so that might allow us to throw a party there without Milboroughan reprisals, but I didn't know how many people would be willing to drive 2 hours to get to the party. So I said to Weed, "You'd throw a party? Here?"

Weed had already put together a special brew of coffee in the kitchen and he poured me a cup as he responded, "Man, after what we've been through, we both need to unwind!" I said, "Yeah." I knew exactly what he meant. Both our apartments suffered damage due to the fire-starting Kelpfroths. Both of us had to find different places to live while we were waiting for the insurance to come through. Both of us were forced to spend an extended period of time with our spouse or significant other, without any refuge or means to regularly relieve tension.

As I thought about my tension, I said, "…It's been a tense time, hasn't it." As I sometimes do, I stated that question instead of asking it. Weed understood me immediately, as he so often does. He clinked his coffee cup to mine, as we communicated to each other through our eyes our acceptance of each other and my acceptance of his invitation to have a party at his studio.

Then Weed said, "But the best part is…we're talking past tense, Mike! ---The future looks wonderful!!" Weed made a pun off the word "tense." That is the sign of true friend, who will take what you have said make a pun out of it. Weed put his arm around me and led me into the sunset as the credits started running behind us. I said, "Weedie. I think this is going to be the beginning of a beautiful friendship." Just kidding.

I love visiting Josef Weeder. Not only is he a fantastic photographer, but he is a good party-planner and tension reliever. After that visit with him, my tension was gone and my future looked bright. Thanks to Weed, I decided to stop and enjoy the moment. Not only that, but I am going to have a party in my honour, for the first time since I was in university and Weed threw me a party to celebrate getting a dumpster. I have a feeling this party is going to be even better than that one.

Love,
Michael Patterson

I guess we shd consider ourselves lucky that Weed didn't do the old "two tents/too tense" pun. But personally, when sum1 puns on sumthing I just sed, insteada thinking "true friend," I kinda kick myself 4 not phrasing my words more carefully an' punproofly.

Apes

Mike of course went 2 tell Weed abt the book

U will not B shocked 2 hear that Mike d-cided 2 stop by @ Weed's bizness 2 tell him abt the book:

April,

Little sis. A contract for a book is an amazing thing. Not only is it amazing because it means I have a publisher for my book, but it is also amazing how sometimes it seems like it is several pages long and on loose, bendable paper and other times, it seems like it is one page long on heavy card stock. One of those heavy card stock days occurred recently, when I went to visit my closest friend, Josef Weeder. Many people told me I should hire a lawyer to check out my contract (its contents, and not the strangely changing quality of the paper it is on), but I decided the best thing to do would be to take advantage of my friendship with Weed and get him to check out the contract for free. Weed didn’t have any problem with the idea. He said, “I’ll get our intellectual property guy to check out this contract, Mike---but it looks pretty good to me.” I think Weed was saying it looked pretty good because the contract was in a card stock mood at that time, and I have admit it looked pretty good to me too. I said, “Thanks, Weed” just to show those persons who think a Patterson never says “Thank you.”

Then it suddenly got dark. Milborough experiences a lot of blackouts. In the blackness, Weed gave the contract back to me with his right hand and touched me with his left hand. Being touched by Weed suddenly made my left hand extend outward like I only had two very long fingers and a thumb. Before I could turn my attention to this sudden change in my appendage, then Weed said, “So, you’ve done it! You’re an author! How does it feel?” At first I responded, “Tight, man.” But then I thought, he may be talking about my being an author, so I said, “The advance won’t come until next month. And in the meantime, I’ve got bills to pay, get my freelance done, commute 2 hours to work an’ live in chaos at my folks’ place.”

Little sis. I know you might find that last statement a little confusing. After all, didn’t I just write in my January monthly letter that I had an hour and a half commute to my place of toil? Well, little sis, that’s what I thought it was back in January. In February, I have learned to add in an extra 30 minutes to accommodate how long it take for mom to say goodbye to me as I leave for work. I don’t know how everyone else manages to leave for work so much faster than I do. The second thing you may question is the bills, since we are living at home. Even though my $25,000 advance won’t come until next month, this doesn’t mean that our rent in the house has stayed the same. Mom is anticipating the need for more long distance phone calls, and has increased our rent to cover the addition. That is very wise of her, but it does mean I cannot relax when it comes for bill-paying time.

My news didn’t seem to phase Weed. He said, “Mike! Stop and enjoy the moment! You gotta celebrate, man! This calls for a party!!!” He looked at me and stuck his hands out as if he wanted to give me a breast examination. But then he completely fooled me and instead of putting his hands on my breasts, he put his hands around his mouth and he called, “PARTY!” in a voice so loud I swear it felt like the front of my hair line popped off my head.

That’s it for now, little sis. As for what happened next, I will have to leave your readers in anticipation. Did people actually come to Weed for a party on command, or did he just yell the word for effect? You’ll find out tomorrow.

Love,
Michael

Ew. M I rite?

BTW, am I the only 1 who's confused Y it was a 45-min drive fr. our house 2 Mike's TO apt, but it's 1.5 or 2 hrs from our house 2 his work? TO isn't THAT big, eh?

Apes

Things that happen in the papers

So, like, Mike wrote sum more abt his visit an' convo w/Weed and Carleen in Toronto:

April,

Little sis. I am sure your readers have been on pins and needles waiting for the next installment of my story about visiting with Josef Weeder and Carleen Stein to tell them what happened during the fire at my apartment. When I last was telling this story, Josef and I were talking in the coffee bistro, and Josef gave me words of encouragement which caused me to start weeping profusely. I am not a man who displays emotion easily, or apparently quietly either. We were eventually asked to leave because I was disturbing the other customers. I made a mental note not to sign autographs of my book in that coffee house. It was so poorly named Donut & Coffee anyway. I should have no truck with an establishment who can’t spell “doughnut” properly.

As we were walking out of the coffee shop, Carleen positioned herself in between me and Josef, so we were forced to talk over her and she also served a barrier to any more touching by Josef. I suspect she thought Josef touching me on the shoulder was the source of my emotional outburst in the coffee bar. Josef, was still able to touch me with his concern for my well-being. He asked, “So, what are you gonna do?” I know what he was really asking. Josef and I have lived with or close to each other for 11 years. This fire would mean the ending of all that. However, I knew my mother would never let us stay anyplace other than with her, including any temporary living arrangements which might be provided by our insurance company. So, I had to tell him the truth. I said, “For now, we’re going to stay with my parents. We don’t have a lot of choice!” Knowing Josef, he would catch my hidden meaning on “not having a lot of choice”.

Then Carleen looked directly at Josef, and he had a very nervous look on his face. I knew something was up. Josef said, “Carleen and I will bunk in at the studio, and the Saltzmans are staying with friends until our apartments are cleaned. Heaven only knows how long that will take!” I looked at my old friend Josef as he said these words and I got the message loud and clear. He and Carleen were not going to try to find a place near my mother. They were staying in Toronto in his studio and then were going back to the apartments. It was the end of an era in my life, and it was all thanks to the situation created by those smoking Kelpfroths, of which Carleen was clearly taking advantage. I looked at Josef’s face closely to see any signs he was going to change his mind, but there were none forthcoming. I looked at him to remember the details of his appearance, (pulled-back hair, muppet nose, oddly-shaped cranium), on this night, our final night together as he stood in front of the Sushi & Taco Bar across the street. This was my last time in Toronto with Josef, and it hit me like a ton of bricks.

I said, “Man….I feel sorta….sick!” Then out of nowhere, Carleen spoke. Well, actually she was directly to my right, but she hadn’t spoken in so long, I had almost forgotten she could speak. As is usual with Carleen, she tried to give words of comfort, but she simply had no idea what was going on. She said, “You’re in shock, Mike. Your whole family is. Losing your home is a major trauma. It’s going to take a long time to recover.” How would Carleen know how my family is doing? Carleen hadn’t seen my family. And the signs of shock are usually a sudden drop in blood pressure, cold and clammy skin, a weak or rapid pulse, irregular breathing and things like that. Carleen was touching my arm, like she could tell shock from feeling my coat. My sickness felt more like I had a queasy stomach, like maybe I was reacting to seeing Josef in combination with the Sushi and Taco sign behind him.

But then I thought about it. Maybe it was shock. Shock at having an apartment fire almost destroy my novel. Shock at having my best friend living apart from me due to the fire. Shock knowing I would probably never get Ned Tanner back with Weed living so far away. I thought to myself, “This is the kind of thing that you read in the paper…but it’s always happening to someone else.” And I looked up in the sky, almost like the Lizardbreath does when she is trying to be especially earnest. I could actually feel myself looking like Liz and my lips started to get fluffier. I was freaking out until I realized I don’t read the paper, except for my column in the Clarion Weekly. Then I felt much better.

That’s it for today, little sis. More details of my story tomorrow. I know your readers can’t wait for my next installment.

Love,
Michael Patterson

Mike, I don't think Carleen was trying to use "shock" as a medical diagnosis. People use "in shock" all the time for when something traumatic leaves U kinda stunned. But I agree she really wdn't know if that applies 2 the fam, eh?

Zeremy, the crayzee thing is that Mom's chaperon rule only applies 2 Ger. So, like, I cd hang w/U w/out an adult. BUT. She's got all of Mboro watching 4 Ger 2 suddenly, accidentally show up @ places where I happen 2 B. She sez, "April, it's not that I don't trust U, tho mayB I shdn't. But I sure as heck do not trust that BOY!" So I dunno what.

Apes

Recapping 4 Weed

Mike posted abt going out 4 coffee w/Weed an' Carleen after he checked his apt. house the other day:

April,

Little sis. Here is the next installment of my day back in Toronto to visit my apartment. After our landlady Lovey Saltzman, waxed on about how it was not alright for Melville Kelpfroth to try to kill us all using so many Yiddish phrases I lost count; I suggested to Weed we might go get a cup of coffee so I could tell him my story about the fire, and maybe we could leave the women behind. But, alas, Josef felt sorry for Carleen having to listen to Lovey continue on about the evils of cigar-smoking goyim, and he invited her to come along with us. As we left, Lovey was still ranting on, and she may still be there, for all I know.

At the coffee house, Weed and I sat in our customary positions—looking each other in the eye, as Carleen sat in her customary position---off to the side somewhere. I started off with “Man, it happened so fast. My family was sleeping” and then it occurred to me I had used the word “Man” to start my speech, which was unusual for me, as if I suddenly forgot I was 30 years old and no longer in university. That little pause in thinking also helped to realize that perhaps I didn’t want to tell Weed how Deanna took the time to put boots, hats, and coats on the children and I called the emergency services before we tried to leave the apartment. And maybe I didn’t want to tell Weed that I didn’t actually get my wife and children outside, but instead left things up to Deanna as I went up to the attic. The firefighters and doctors at the hospital all told me those were stupid things to do, and I didn’t want Weed to think I was stupid, and only good for my looks. So I said to Weed, “and then suddenly, we were all outside!”

At first Weed stared at me blankly. I wondered if he understood what I said, or if he was confused by my implication that magic was involved in getting my family from sleeping to all the way outside. But then Weed said, “We didn’t know what was going on until the fire trucks arrived!” I breathed a sigh of relief hearing that, because it meant Weed didn’t question what Deanna and I were doing in the apartment before we got outside. It meant Weed was miffed that he found out about the fire from the fire trucks and not from me. I know if I were Weed, and he had a fire in his apartment, and I had to find out from someone else about his fire, it would hurt my feelings too. I cried a little inside knowing I had hurt his feelings. I had to make him feel better about me, so I told him, “Those guys came just minutes after I called!” That way it would seem like I had planned to call him too, but the fire fighters were just too fast for my phone-dialing fingers.

I could see Weed was relieved about my explanation, so I decided to tell him the exciting part of the story, about how “I went up to the attic…by the time I came down, I could hardly breathe…and I couldn’t see.” I could see the worry etching itself across Josef’s face. I could not stand it any longer. I had to let him know I was alright. I said, “Two guys pulled me out…I was never so glad to see someone in my life!” Then I realized I had said, “two guys” instead of “two firefighters”. Weed was going to think I have other men in my life, who come to rescue me, who aren’t firefighters and most importantly, who aren’t him. Weed yelled out “WHAT?!!”. I knew I had blundered.

Weed said, “You went up to the attic when the place was full of smoke?” I was so relieved; Josef was just concerned for my safety. I knew he understood me, better than my wife did, since she called me crazy. So I told Josef the truth, “I had to get my laptop, Weed—and my book.”

Then Josef reached out to me and held my arm from across the table. I can’t tell you how it felt to have someone near to me, who knows I am a Patterson and how I am wired, and who, in my hour of need, gave me the precious pun of pity. Josef said, “Well, for your sake, Mike…I hope it sells like a house on fire!” Those words were so beautiful, it brought me to tears. I am not a crying man, little sis, but it means so much to me to know that no matter how bad things get, there is someone out there who will tell me a pun, when I need a pun the most. I hope for you, little sis, that someday you will find a man for you, who will touch you as much as Josef Weeder has touched me.

Love,
Michael Patterson

Mike, I think what Weed 4got 2 say was, "So you risked your life, risked widowing Dee, and leaving your children fatherless, all so you can save a laptop and a manuscript you'd mostly backed up anyway?" But I guess Weed isn't so much for the "tuff luv," eh?

Apes