Ravings of a Textual Deviant

Ed and I now know for certain that we do not have a key to his brother’s house. We were supposed to go over and do the final preparation for the party after our nephew’s First Communion. (As neither Ed nor I are avid churchgoers, we’re the logical choice; we did this for our niece’s party a couple of years ago, and it worked out beautifully.)

You know what they say about best laid plans, right?

We arrived at the house at 10:00 Sunday morning, as planned, and discovered that the door that was to have been left unlocked for us wasn’t. Neither was the other door. Ed tried every single unidentified key on the ring (actually 7 or 8, rather than the 20 estimated previously). Then I tried the unidentified keys, in both locks. No luck. Ed climbed the fence to try the back door, and did not get in, but did get the dog barking most enthusiastically.

“Do you think the neighbors will call the police?” I asked Ed, more out of curiousity than anything else.

We later found out that about the time this was going on, Mark was whispering to Lori, in church, “How long can those casseroles stay in the oven before they’re ruined?” I think Lori lost about five years from her life in that moment.

Rather than stand out in the cold and damp, Ed and I went to the nearest bookstore. On the way, Ed suggested that maybe we could go back to our house for his lockpicks.

Li: Well, what are the odds that you could actually get us in without ruining the lock.
Ed: I wouldn’t hurt the lock, even if I couldn’t get it open.
Li: OK, but what are the odds of you actually opening the lock? Fifty-fifty?
Ed: More like fifteen percent.
Li: Oh.
Ed: And that’s assuming I could find my lockpicks in the first place.
Li: And those odds are…?
Ed: Not good.
Li: Forget it.

We were halfway to the bookstore by then, which was in the opposite direction from our house. And if I’m going to be an accessory to breaking and entering, then I need better odds.

About this time, Mark had slipped out of the main area of the church and was trying to phone his brother-in-law, who didn’t have a key, but did have a spare garage door opener. No luck. (Later that afternoon, we found out that the brother-in-law had been at home, but he was outside when Mark called.)

Back at the bookstore, I made a few purchases, chatted briefly with a friend who works there, and headed back to Mark and Lori’s. Somebody with a key was bound to arrive eventually. We settled into the car and started enjoying my new books. At 10:45, Mark zoomed up and let us in.

Lori had left us a very detailed list, and Ed, Mark and I were dashing about as if possessed. Coffee made, check. Candles lit, check. Ice bucket filled, check. Juice brought in from the workroom fridge, check. Take the egg casseroles out of oven…

Mark: I don’t believe this!
Li & Ed: Believe what?
Mark: There’s plastic wrap under the foil on these pans!
Ed: Huh?
Li: Well, is it on the eggs?
Mark: No, but she didn’t tell me there was plastic wrap under the foil!
Li: So the eggs are OK?
Mark: Yeah. Sort of. The top’s supposed to be brown.
Li: Take the plastic wrap off and put them under the broiler for five minutes. They’ll be fine. Nobody needs to know. I won’t tell if you won’t.
Mark: Oh, I’m gonna tell.
Ed: (Snorts)
Mark: (Sotto voce) I swear, I am not coming back from Iowa…

Wow, I thought. THAT is desperation.

I went back to finishing up the french toast casserole. As it turned out, the plastic wrap probably saved the egg casseroles by keeping the moisture in. After a pass under the broiler, the eggs looked fine, so we took them out, and put the french toast in. Other items on the list were completed just as the first guests arrived. Lori got there a few minutes later.

Mark: You didn’t tell me there was plastic wrap on the eggs
Lori: There’s plastic all over the eggs?!?!?!

If Lori was the swooning type, she’d have done so right there, on top of her youngest kid, who was hanging onto her arm.

Li: No, no, they’re fine.
Mark: You didn’t tell me there was plastic wrap under the foil.
Lori: You mean you didn’t look?
Li: They’re fine, I promise. The plastic wrap probably saved them. Do you want me to help with anything else?

Fortunately, she did. I waved the checked-off list at her and assured her again that everything was fine. Really. The usual chaos of McDonough/Mercuri family gatherings ensued. Food was consumed, babies were passed around, small boys were reprimanded. And a key exchange was agreed to before the third and final kid has his First Communion party.

This entry was posted on Monday, May 3rd, 2004 at 3:58 pm and is filed under Daze in the Life of.... You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.