That Saved a Wretch Like Me

Dear Big Three,

(No, no--not the auto industry--THE big three, as in the Big Kahuna, Son & HG--I defer to my Catholic roots in writing to all of you.)

First of all, look closely at this photo. Yes, those are MORE pants of mine that no longer fit. I thought I'd torture myself this fine morning by trying on all my pants (why I decided to do this, I do not know). A whole 'nother slew of them dang pants didn't fit. Now, I know there are world crises and wars and famine & global financial disasters, but in my small world, another pile of pants that don't fit really mess me up. When will the madness end? I'm not doing very well with this middle-age-spread thing; besides, I can't afford to buy new pants. I know you are friends with Leslie Sansone, so please help her help me. I can't go to work naked, after all.

Speaking of which, if I did write about work (and I most certainly do NOT write about my job but if I did), I would inquire about all this Jesus-ness that continues to envelope me. I'm not complaining or making fun of this, mind you--I just want to understand. If I did write about work (and I am so not doing that but if I did), I would ask about the two day training you sent me on with my evangelical, born again, uber-conservative co-worker. Now, I really, really like her and she seems to really, really like me and we get along handsomely and we have a great working relationship, but putting me in a car with her for a total of over eight hours plus having me spend two whole days interacting with her...I have to know what the deal is. I don't want to miss the message or the meaning or the purpose.....

.....After all, a wretch like me needs all the help. Missing the forest for the trees would probably not be a good thing.

If I spoke of the work training, I would recant the countless painful moments of Evangelical Eve talking about all these Cheese head things and me not being able to tell any of my funny Cheesehead things because my minions do not know of my wife. (Well, they don't officially don't know about my wife. They aren't morons and I'm like Queen of the Queers--one look at me and it's pretty obvious, in my view. Queer, queer, queer!) I have so many, many, many wife-family stories and there I am, brain ready to have an aneurysm trying to stay quiet, trying to concentrate on driving instead of bursting in pain. I mean, this lady has a great sense of humor and even though we are exact opposites in most ways, we are also very much alike in others and I KNOW she would love these Cheese head stories.....

....but, there's that really-uber-Christian thing and I don't want to offend her and she's my worker and I'm her boss and I need her to continue her respect for my boss-dom and it's really not something that technically should come up in the work place and I don't want her to jump out of the car or stop talking or start laying her hands on me in immediate, emergency prayer...

Okay, okay--so, I'm writing about work. My life's too short for all this. You know all of this, anyways. You hover above. Heck, you put Evangelical Eve in my car and my life. No dancing around. It's my blog, so I'll recall it from my perspective and you can give me the low-down on the whole thing and you can help me keep my job when they miraculously find this blog and start screaming at me to remove it or face lawsuits.

So, I'm sitting there and I'm thinking, "how can I broach this subject of the wife?" because I can't go on in this car any longer without saying something, anything. I am tired of dropping pronouns--I sound like I have forgone the English language at times. ...

In the meantime, she's telling me about how the staff truly believe that God has brought me to them. Dear You, we are back to that, again! And yes, I believe you did indeed did do that. I know I am there for a reason. But, is the reason for me, for them or for us?

Then, I have a brainstorm--I'll share some photos and innocently make sure there's a photo with the wife in it somewhere. This seems to be a casual way to test the waters. I wanted to show her the picture of me meeting Lucy Lawless, anyways; I can stick a photo of the dogs and one of my family in there. Genius!

I hand her the envelope. We have a hoot and a holler about the Lucy Lawless photo and she makes fun of the actual thought that there are people who go to Xena conventions. "Is this like a Star Trek thing?" she asks. I most certainly assure her it is. She then looks at the photos of the dogs, which leads to discuss about her dog and our dogs and dogs in general. Then, she gets to the family photo. She exclaims that my mom looks exactly as she had envisioned and we talk about how my mom & sister have the same holiday sweaters on and it wasn't even planned. Eve goes down the row one by one. She gets to the wife and says, "Who's this?" I try not to piddle on myself and try to sound very confident: "That's my significant other." Eve doesn't miss a beat and asks, "What's her name?" I tell her. Eve notes she has a great smile and looks nice and I can tell she is no worse for the wear about any of this. Incredibly, she then asks, "is she the one who had surgery?" I indicate that it is and then we talk about how concerned I was and how that was a really stressful time and how I didn't think appropriate to talk about at work. I add that we thought it might be ovarian cancer; Evangelical Eve quietly states, "I was thinking it was breast cancer."

Well, that most certainly answers the question of did she or did she not know. She then goes on about ovarian cancer and pancreatic cancer and how those two diseases tend not to have good prognosis. Nothing weird. Just on with the discussion.

You would think this would quell all fears, but strangely it does not. It makes it a whole lot easier to talk while in the car but there is still concern on my part about the whole Jesus thing. I'm feeling brave, so I inquire all about her born-again-ness. This leads to a very in depth discussion of her Christian faith, her conviction, her view. "Love the sinner," she adds, but it is not directed at me or anything in particular--it is aimed and everything and everybody. Of this, I am sure.

Out of the blue, she inquires if I am bringing the wife to next week's agency holiday party. (Don't ask why we are having a holiday party in February. Must have been too busy around your birthday.) I turn and look at her, as this is not what I ever expected her to ask. I shake my head and say no, adding "I don't think they are exactly ready for that." She doesn't agree or disagree--she just nods quietly, an acknowledgment on many levels.

For that, I am grateful.

We return casually to talk of religion and spirituality, Cheeseheads and Flatlanders, dogs and families. Work would be fine. I was fine. She was fine. Although I know she would have told me more about being born again, she was very polite and followed my lead through the whole thing. A true Christian, in my book.

And so, I ask of you again: what DO you want from a wretch like me? Any clear messages would be greatly appreciated.

In closing, I want to thank you for your time....and, for helping the wife have such a quick recovery. I am saved of my wifely duties and am glad not to be doing all those dreaded household chores; in fact, I am back to my own sloppy self, as evidenced by this second photo. Oh, I'll clean it all up by the end of today, as I do every Sunday night, but I have to say it's nice to be back to my old self. I promise to not be a slug and to help the wife with all those chores...as long as I do not have to do them all. I am really, really grateful. I can't make you any promises about washing the floor, but I'm all good with the rest of it.

Sincerely, Addi Warrior Princess

P.S. Thanks for the Blago Bust.