They've only just begun ... 2 bore U!

So, after Jeremy an' I left Howard's place last nite, we were walking back 2 my house, and who shd we run in2 but Anthony. He had Françoise on his shoulders, and she was, like, asleep, using Ant's head as a pillow.

Anthony was all, "Hello, future sister-in-law and her consort!" Jeremy sed, "Isn't it a bit l8 2 B out w/yr not-even-3-yo? She's so xxhausted she's fallen asleep." Anthony sed, "Don't mind her. I'm not the kind of parent who rearranges his life 2 accomod8 a yung child. She has 2 learn 2 fit in2 my life!" I sed, "She's v. v. yung, Anthony. U have 2 make sum adjustments. . . ." And he cut me off, "Stuff and nonsense!" I sed, "Oh, gah, U picked that up fr. Mike, didn't U?" And he sed, "Yr brother is a published author and Milborough's reigning celebrity! Y wdn't I pick up sum of his language usage?" I bonked myself on the head w/my hand then, cuz I didn't know what 2 say. Anthony was all, "C? U don't even know what 2 say! If U paid closer attention 2 the published author in yr family, and emul8ed his speech habits, U wd alwayz know what 2 say!" Jeremy jumped 2 my defence and sed, "There's nuthing wrong w/being speechless every 1ce in a while! Even Mike was speechless when Weed asked him 2 make a speech @ that party @ Weed's place, or so I hear. And just cuz Mike nearly always sez whatev st00pid thing pops in2 his hed doesn't make him brilliant, it makes him an idiot!"

Anthony was like, "Pish posh! But since it's the holiday seazon, I will let that comment slide. I M 2 xxcited abt my future w/Eeeeeeeeelihhhhhhhhhzaaaaaahhhhhbehhhhth 2 let the snide comments of teenagers ruin my bouyant mood!" I sed, "U can call her 'Liz' U know." And he sed, "Didn't U get the memo?" I sed, "Sure, and after I shredded it, it made an xxcellent liner 4 Butterscotch the dog-rabbit's cage, @ the Pattermanse."

Anthony shook his hed. "U really R out of step w/the rest of yr family." And I sed, "Thanx!" Ant was like, "NEway. Yr SIL Deanna seemed v. relieved 2 C her parents leave Sunday nite, er, 'Xmas,' even tho her father was v. flattering, saying, 'That was a luvly Xmas dinner, Deanna.' Dee sed, 'Thanx, Dad,' and Mrs. Sobinski sed, 'Gd nite, dear.' Then it was our turn 2 leave. I wanted 2 stay longer, but that pesky Mira had made such a big deal abt the fact that Francie had fallen asleep, I had 2 leave just 2 save face. So Eeeeeeeeelihhhhhhhhhzaaaaaahhhhhbehhhhth and I put on our coats, and we got Francie in2 hers w/out waking her up. I picked her up so she was facing me, w/her hed resting on my shoulder. Eeeeeeeeelihhhhhhhhhzaaaaaahhhhhbehhhhth put a hand on my shoulder and I cd sense that she was looking @ Francie tenderly. Ha-ha, my plan is working! Oh, where was I? Yes, so I told Michael and Deanna, 'I think we'll B taking this one home. She's had a big day.' And Deanna sed, 'I'm so glad U cd come, Anthony.'"

Jeremy cut in w/"Hey, if this story has a pt, feel free 2 get 2 it." Anthony ignored him and went on, "When I was loading Francie in2 the car seat, which Officer Luggsworth forced me 2 buy, BTW, the little scamp woke 2 ask, 'Daddy? Is everything over? And I sed, 'No, sweetheart.' BTW, we'd loaded the car w/gifts, including a couple of plush-toys: a reindeer and a bunny. Eeeeeeeeelihhhhhhhhhzaaaaaahhhhhbehhhhth told me that the bunny showed that Francie has officially been accepted in2 the family! Well, I got in2 the driver's seat, and remembered the question Francie had asked. I continued my 'No, sweetheart' answer in my hed, 'I think everything's abt 2 begin.'" By then, Francie had fallen asleep, and Eeeeeeeeelihhhhhhhhhzaaaaaahhhhhbehhhhth had one of those blank looks I luv so much."

I sed, "W8 a minute. Do U EVER give yr daughter a str8 answer abt NEthing? Poor kid, all she meant was whether the nite's festivities were over. Yr 'no' answer made her think U were, like, continuing 2 another party." Ant shook his hed. "Yr brother is rite. U really R a killjoy. Giving str8 answers 2 small children? Who does that? Where's the comedy?"

I turned 2 Jeremy an' sed, "We have 2 promote that Francie therapy-fund website as much as we can. Poor kid." Anthony shook his hed and sed, "Well, I M not letting the official sourpuss of the Patterson family destroy my good mood. I'm going 2 keep walking around until sunrise and then wake up this little rugrat and tell her the sky is on fire!" Jeremy sed, "I'm going 2 get on that therapy site rite away and make another contribution." And I sed, "same here."

That's it 4 now.

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

Ha-ha, Liz, U're OLD!

So after that firefighter came by yesterday, I stopped in2 the kitchen, where Liz had set up 2 work on lesson planz. Liz was all, "Who was @ the door?" I told her, "One of the firemen who helped Mike an' Deanna escape from their apartment." Then I put the blanket and albums on the table, like, "He brought these." Liz was totally "This isn't all they have left, is it?" I went, "No, there's more. Mom sez there's an insurance thing where a cleaning company goes in after a fire and salvages NEthing that's still good. So.... They'll get back sum kitchen stuff and NEthing that's not totally smoke damaged." Liz was like, "Cool!" And me, I was all, "Personally, I'd rather get all new stuff!" Liz sed, "U can't replace history, April. Everything U own has history!" I scooped up the blanket and the albums, and as I left the kitchen, I told Liz, "MayB YOUR stuff has .....I'm not OLD enuf 2 have "history." I cd hear her kinda growling as I left the room.

Hey, now that I've mentioned Liz, mayB sum interesting Liz stuff will happen and I'll B able 2 tell U all abt it. That wd B cube, doncha think?

Apes

Firefighter housecalls?

Whew, sorry I'm l8 again. This time fr. partying hardy, eh? Sorry I left all that describing 2 U, Howard. Like Howard sez, Becky's dad Thorvald brought Ger 2 the party just B4 midnite, so we cd kiss. I was sooooo happy that we got 2 have our New Year's kiss! And it was a gr8 kiss! And then, like Howard also sez, Ger had brought me sum clothes an' jewelry:

Gerald got April some kind of BoHo Hippy top with flared ruffle sleeves, with a choker necklace that has an oval Viking emblem attached. He insisted that she wear it, even though it is setting off all kinds of fashion alarms in my head. Thorvald seems to like it because it reminds him of how girls dressed in his younger days.

So I was totally still wearing that stuff when I got home in the v. early, wee hrs of the morning. And guess what? That weird vision I told Howard abt last nite came true: “Howard. I have this vision about answering a door and a fireman is there to return a blanket and photo albums that Deanna dropped on the fire escape. Do firemen do that?” L8r, Luis kinda told us that they do actually do this (also from a Howard comment last nite):

Luis Guzmán told this strange story about how the Toronto Fire Services have new laundry and scrapbooking divisions, for families who are victims of fires. His girlfriend, Alto Escurrido, said she heard the local Ontario Provincial Police were installing a new moccasin-making division so they can hand out moccasins to victims of violent crimes.

So, NEway, the doorbell rang this morning, and since every1 else was either out an' abt or sleeping off hangovers, I was all, "I'LL GET IT!!!" I think I mita damaged my hearing a bit last nite, cuz 4 sum reason, I felt like I hadta shout that REALLY LOUD an' almost unhinge my jaw like Mom does all the time. So I answered the door an' this v. cute guy was there holding a blanket and sum books on top. I was all, "Hi!" And the guy was, like, "Hello, I'm from the fire department. Is Deanna Patterson here?" Dee took the kiddies out early this morning, so I was like, "No, she isn't." Then I asked, "Can I give her a message?" And he handed me the blanket and books, all, "U can give here these. They were left on the fire escape. Tell her we washed the bedspread and cleaned up the foto albums." I stood there holding them, like totally not believing my weird vision or Luis's crayzee talk cd B true. I was all, "U did? Wow!" And as the cutie walked off, he sed over his shoulder, "We're not just firefighters, Miss... We're family guyz, 2." I told him, "She'll want 2 thank U!" He turned an' sed, "Just tell her 2 have a safe and happy new year!"

So I guess I'll tell her all that when she gets back.

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

More Mike, More Smoke

Mike posted another comment abt the whole fire an' rescue thing:

At 2:49 AM, michael patterson said…

April,

Little sis. Now for more of my story of our excitement for our family after I was interrupted in telling it yesterday.

To recap: It was 2 am. I had just finished my book and I felt like celebrating. Not that I know anything of the physical pain of giving birth, but I was comparing this feat to something equally agonizing - and, now it was done. Yes finishing my book was like having to be in labour for hour after hour until I pushed that baby out of my loins, ripping and tearing the tender flesh of my…I think it was more like passing a kidney stone.

I sauntered down the stairs into the living room and my eyes began to burn. There is nothing like that time of night to make you realize your poor decorating choices. But in addition to my eyes, there was in my nose, the smell of melting plastic and a blue haze of smoke was beginning to curl into the apartment. Except it wasn’t blue of course. It was more like a light grey colour, and it didn’t so much curl as kind of glide through like someone had placed long ribbons across the room. The smoke was very odd. I kept on thinking I could get a pair of scissors and cut through them, but of course that was not truly the case, no matter how many times I tried.

The alarm on the hall ceiling went off, a high-pitched whine that pumped the adrenaline like a syringe. And then of course we also had the smoke alarm, which used a more conventional battery and electrically-powered method. I don’t know why we ever invested in those adrenaline-powered things. They are just awful and so tedious to maintain.

I woke Deanna and told her to get up. Fast. We dressed the kids, herded them into our room and onto the fire escape. And of course, by we dressing the kids, I mean Deanna got them dressed. I hate having to deal with those little hands and feet. They are too small for my delicate fingers. And of course, by herded, I mean picked up and carried. I don’t know the first thing about proper herding techniques, except it involves some kind of trained dog.

Our fire escape. Until now, it had been our balcony and a convenient route to the back yard. I remember those days of sitting back there with Deanna on lawn chairs and viewing the bustling city of Toronto. How exciting it was to view the city lights there on our fire escape. But now, it was a welcome exit from an apartment rapidly filling with smoke.

That is the scene where I left your readers 2 days ago. And now to continue:

With Dee and the kids outside and the emergency fire crew alerted, I impulsively ran back into the apartment…well actually I had never left the apartment physically, but mentally I was outside the apartment with Dee and the kids. I think that should count. And by impulsively, I mean I had been thinking about doing it all along. But I had only been thinking about it in the brief time after the smoke alarm went off, so for a Patterson that is impulsively.

Anyway, I ran up the stairs to my office and grabbed two other things I had to save: my laptop and my manuscript. I know you are thinking I probably should have only picked up the laptop and left the manuscript, but I had printed the manuscript on really nice paper and I had used the “Best Quality” setting on the printer and everything, so it would have been a shame to let it burn.

It took seconds to get both, but by the time I reached the bottom of the stairs, the acrid smoke burned my lungs. I couldn't see. Trying not to breathe, not to panic, I moved towards the hall. In our hall closet I selected a cloth to put over my mouth to help me with the smoke. I wanted a nice, pretty, flowery cloth; my favourite, to use; but all we had in the closet were those ugly white ones we got from Deanna’s mother for my birthday. I struggled with deciding whether or not I should go into the dirty laundry to try to find my favourite, flowery one, but then I decided I would go for the plain, drab, white one and hope that no one saw me with it. That would be embarrassing. I'm strong, but not strong enough to be seen with the wrong cloth in public. Well, as they say, smoke can kill you, and once I got into the smoke, I realized I should have gone for my nicer, flowery, cloth; because the smoke went right through the cheap white cloth and I could feel myself falling forward.

From the door of our bedroom, two masked firefighters appeared, and by masked, I mean they had oxygen masks on, not that they were masked like bandits. One of them yelled to someone behind him, “We’ve got him! He’s OK!!!” Of course he was wearing his oxygen mask when he said it, so I marveled at his enunciation. I suppose in firefighter school they teach how to properly articulate words so they can be understood when they have oxygen masks on. That’s really quite a skill. I might have to write an article on it some day. The other firefighter stuck his hand out with what appeared to me to be some kind of yellow lobster claw. It was however, an oxygen mask of some sort.

I was given a breath of oxygen and another as they carried me like a doll to the exit, closing our bedroom door behind them. Well, I say carried me like a doll but it was more like one firefighter grabbed me around the waist and hoisted me off the ground while the other firefighter stuck the lobster claw oxygen mask on my face. When I think about it, dolls are usually carried around the neck with their legs and feet dangling, and it wasn’t like that at all. Perhaps I should say they carried me more like someone giving me the Heimlich maneuver while the other person tried to catch what was coming out of my mouth with the oxygen mask. Whatever happened to the good old-fashioned fireman’s carry? There is nothing like being hoisted onto the broad shoulders of a strong man. I remember Josef Weeder and I used to practise fireman’s carries on each other all the time in university. It was quite invigorating.

Despite their bizarre method of carrying me, they continued to carry me down the two flights of stairs leading from our second floor apartment to the back yard. As they did so, I could hear my wife Deanna expressing the tender sounds of concern for my condition as she said, “I left a blanket and our photo albums on the fire escape.” The firefighter responded, “OK! Just get out of the way, please!” I could tell from the firefighter’s tone, this was not the first time Deanna asked about the blanket and photo albums. I could also tell he was single. A married firefighter would have obeyed the commanding wifely voice of my Deanna instantly and retrieved the items to keep her from continuing to ask about them over and over again. That’s what I would have done myself, if I had not been busy being carried by firefighters at the time.

Two pumper trucks were in the lane. At least that’s what I was told. I only saw one myself. Lights from a police car and a rescue vehicle were like fireworks as my eyes adjusted to the scene outside. Of course, now that I think about it, fireworks are usually sparkly and don’t produce that much light. Perhaps I should say the lights were more like miniature suns. No. That’s too strong a term. How about, the lights were blinding me to the one thing I wanted to see more than anything. That should work.

I was safe, but seeing Deanna and the children in the care of the fire crew brought me to tears. As the firefighter who had been giving me the Heimlich let go, so my feet could touch the ground again, I heard him say, “Medic! Get this one to the hospital!” I turned to him and said, “Don’t you mean ‘paramedic’ and shouldn’t he examine me first, before deciding I need to go to the hospital?” The firefighter said, “Hey! If you’re so smart, why did you go back into a burning building?” I started to tell him it was to preserve the manuscript of what would become the great Canadian novel, but I could tell his thinking was too pedestrian, or should I say, “firefightian” to understand the importance of great literature. So, I did not argue the point any further. Instead, as Deanna rushed to embrace me, I told her she was the most important thing in my life, by handing my laptop to her and saying, “Deanna, take my laptop!” Truer words of trust and dedication to another human being have never been spoken before and may never again be said. Entrusted into my wife’s arms was Canada’s literary future, and I knew she would follow through and make sure it was preserved.

As I walked to the rescue vehicle, I could tell my children realized the importance of what I had done for our country. My daughter said, “Mommy! Look! The fire! It’s burning everything! What are we going to have left?” Clutching my laptop in her right arm and gathering my children in her left arm, or was it the laptop in the left arm and the children in her right? It is so difficult to see things when you are being loaded into an emergency vehicle. Anyway, Deanna had them all together so that, in effect, all my children were gathered into her arms. I could hear my wife answering, “Each other.” as I was being loaded into the emergency vehicle. I could feel their concern for my health and well-being, even though they were busy watching the apartment burn instead of standing close by me.

Yes, what we had left was my son, my daughter, my wife, and my book. With those 4 things I can conquer anything. I can tell you little sis, in moments of crisis you realize what is truly important: Your family and great literature.

Little sis, just to let you know, there is a very good chance I will get called to make some speeches about my heroic rescue from our burning apartment, so I may or may not be writing to you about my excitement tomorrow. However, I expect to begin the story again the following day. I know your readers are anxious to hear about what injuries I sustained, so they can keep up with modern Canadian literary history, and I will try not to disappoint them.

Love,
Michael Patterson

As 4 2morrow'z entry, I have a feeling it's gonna have a Christmas theme 2 it! BTW, sorry 2day's post is so much l8r than the usual. I slept l8!

Apes

Saving Sheileccch

Here's the l8est post from Mike:

April,

Little sis. As I promised you, this is the third installment of my family’s night of excitement. When I left off yesterday I had just finished my manuscript for my novel, I had praised my muse, and I had smelled smoke, and my wife Deanna helped the children put on their boots and coats, while I called emergency. Carrying on from there:

The smoke alarm was still going off and making a lovely “BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE”
sound. You get the idea. There were 54 E’s just in this installment, compared to 68 yesterday. I am not sure, but I think the smoke alarm sound was only audible in our bedroom which could account for the lessened number of E’s. When we were in the children’s bedroom, I could clearly hear Deanna say to our daughter, “We’re going into our room.” And then our daughter said, “Why?” and Deanna responded with that classic motherly rejoinder “Just do as I say!” Then after that I heard the smoke alarm again. So, I thought the smoke alarm had a limited sound projection, or that my wife’s and my daughter’s voices are so loud and shrill, they can easily drown out a smoke alarm. In any case, the effect was less E’s.

Deanna was carrying the duvet from our daughter’s bed and our daughter was carrying her stuffed animal, while I carried my son into our bedroom. It was there I saw my wife Deanna suddenly drop the duvet and pick up 2 large books. Seeing this caused me to think, “If those books are more important to Deanna than having a duvet to cover our children and keep them warm outside, then is there something in the apartment more important to me than helping Deanna get the children all the way down the fire escape and to confirmed safety?” Maybe Weed and Carleen and Ned Tanner, or Lovey and Morrie? "No", I thought. They are in the other apartment building, and not the same one I live in. Then, the answer came to me as swift as a bolt of lightning (which by the way is not the reason why there was smoke in our apartment)--- Sheilagh Shaugnessy and her story. Yes, I suddenly remembered my manuscript, which I had just completed only a few minutes before all this happened.

So, I said to Deanna, “Get the kids out. I’ll be right back!” And Deanna said, “Michael---Where are you going?” And I said, “To get my manuscript! It’s in the attic!” Then Deanna said, “WHAT?!!! The place is filling up with smoke! Are you CRAZY?!!”

I had to pause a moment to contemplate that question. First I had to ask myself if I had done any backups of my manuscript. Of course I had. I had printed it out. So, even if the computer crashed, I still had a paper copy. Alas, both copies would be destroyed in an apartment fire. I could ask one of those computer smart people at Portrait Magazine where I work, if there is a way to make a copy someplace other than your home, but it was too late to think about doing that now. I would probably burn to death trying to figure out how to make a copy someplace else by myself.

With that possibility removed, the next question was whether or not I should go to the attic to get my manuscript. Looking at the wisps of smoke, they didn’t look very threatening, but Deanna did say that the place was filling up with smoke, so there was the possibility that with her keener vision, she could see smoke that I could not see. That told me it would be risky, but would it be worth risking my life to try to save Sheilaugh, in the event my wife’s eyesight was truly better than mine?

What happened then blew me away. It was as if I'd entered the conscious mind of someone else. A woman, whose life story has captivated me totally, as if it were my own. Sheilagh is just a young woman from England. She had to make a terrible decision too, which cost her dearly. She chose to leave her life in Devon, England to live with a brutal man and in brutal conditions in Bodner Saskatchewan. I felt the weight of her decision. I heard her voice, incredulous, vulnerable and lonely; looking for the one man in her life who wouldn’t disappoint her, who wouldn’t let her or her children down. She was looking for the man who had spent the last sixteen months chronicling her life; so that the whole world (or the people who read best-selling books anyway) could see a strong woman, capable of taking care of her children, and capable of handling everything that life had thrown at her, and capable of leaving her abusive husband to die from exposure in the snow. How could I let such a woman die in a blazing fire, if there was anything I could do to prevent it? Michael Patterson is not a man, so consumed by self-interest; he could ignore the pleas of Sheilagh Shaugnessy and her children.

Of course, about then, my daughter was whining about something and it broke my concentration. But it didn’t break my conviction. I said to Deanna, “I’ll go crazy if I don’t get it!!!” And get it I tried.

Now, I know your readers are probably sitting on the edge of their chairs in suspense. Did I get my manuscript? Did I burn to death? Will there be a happy and heart-warming Christmas moment at the end of my story of our excitement that evening? I will give your readers just a little hint to keep them going until my next installment: I am a Patterson.

Love,
Michael Patterson

OK, those of U who bet that Mike wd save the manuscript B4 his kids don't win, but the peeps who were betting he'd risk his life 2 save the MS can collect, I guess. But not real gambling, Paul, pls don't call the OPP in on my friends!

Apes