A Cool Fool Totally Rules

As a member of the human race, I am extremely cool.  I would give you a list of references to confirm this, but as my long-standing coolness is self-evident I think we can all agree that won’t be necessary.  Being inherently cool, I don’t mind occasionally making a complete fool of myself when the situation calls for it, because I have been taught by experience that there are certain special times in life when fool is cool.  And I was taught by one of the greats...

In my early-twenties I spent a year and a half in a third world country far away from everything I knew.  When I returned home eager to be reunited with the family I'd missed, my mother master-minded a landing party to greet me at the airport.  They awaited my arrival just outside security.  It was a high traffic, public place; a place in which my socially aware mother would typically be on her most appropriate behavior.  I walked down the terminal craning to catch a glimpse of the long unseen faces of my beloved family.  Rather, I was met by a small group of lunatics wearing gorilla masks.  I was deeply touched.  The security officers were deeply confused and likely debating the need for a body-cavity check while their newest officer was sent for a tranquilizer gun and a bunch of bananas.

Some years later, Christmas evening found me again in Oklahoma.  I was 4 months pregnant and not enjoying much.  Everything smelled funny.  I was constantly tired.  And, as it was the first Christmas following my dad’s passing, the holiday vibe was bittersweet in my childhood home.  Having dined on the obligatory bi-annual turkey, the combination of tryptophan and hormones left me lick-the-road-exhausted.  My husband and I sat lazily in the front room engaged in casual conversation with the siblings.  That’s when it happened.  My mother, having received a skin-tight screaming purple leotard from her deranged little sister as a yuletide gift, entered the room; her comfortably plump form clothed in the polished plumb one-piece.  It was brilliant!

Alas, there exists no photographic evidence of my mother’s Planet of the Apes homecoming, nor of her Purple People Eater impression that surreal Christmas night.  In fact, I’m willing to bet serious cash that the lilac leotard in question, long since off-loaded to an unsuspecting charity drive, has found its way into the hands of some less fortunate would-be modern dancer, beatnik poet, or base-jumper who today enjoys the supple support and amethyst stain of Lycra Gone Wild.  But the memories are still vivid in my mind and now preserved forever in my blog for the benefit of one and all.  And to you, Mom, I say Thank You…and, of course, You’re Welcome.