Friday, September 19, 2008

Disappoint Olaf

evolution of each & every femtosecond:
to love
to awareness & preference
to flower & fruit
My parents' 50th was a splendid celebration. Get 200+ of your dearest & best together & you get--well, tired. Many other things as well, but by the end of it you're ready for a nap. Or hibernation, at least for a few days.

At the beautiful gathering, one dear friend, Olaf, who we used to buy potatoes from (hundreds of pounds of potatoes, for us & our friends & relatives--we'd go to Big Timber in the pickup & hang out with Olaf & Gladys & their kids & then drive home with the pickup bed loaded with burlap sacks, each containing 100 pounds of potatoes. & who was lying in the back of the pickup, on top of those lumpy sacks, barely fitting between the spuds & the topper? me, & my sisters. & then we had to peel them & sprout them... at least we got to eat them. mashed. fried. boiled & smushed with a fork & covered with butter & salt. baked. mmm. oh yeah, I was telling a story that wasn't about potatoes, but rather about being true to ones self. & so I return to it) one dear friend, Olaf, invited my folks & my uncle Bud to come over to Big Timber the following Friday, a mere 5 days from the spectacular gathering that was occurring at that moment. Olaf had a busload of 45 Norwegians coming & there was to be a party & he'd dearly love it if Mom & Dad & Uncle Bud would attend.

Now my parents have nothing against Norwegians (if they did, they wouldn't be nearly as fond of themselves & their children as they are, for we are all lousy with Norsky genes) but you could hear the sighs as they spoke of this possibility. The weekend before the anniversary they had hosted their annual corn party, for the seed corn customers. Now the anniversary, which lasted for some 7 hours, & of course there were post-party-parties & visiting & dear friends from out of town sticking around for a few days yet, & this daughter from North Carolina hanging out for another week-&-a-half. & yet--

& yet, they were seriously considering going off to see the Norwegians. "Olaf would be disappointed," they said. I got all mouthy & eldest-child-ish on them. "So. If you don't go, Olaf will be disappointed. If you do go, you will be disappointed. If somebody has to be disappointed, I vote Olaf!" I don't know whether my plea for selfishness tipped the scales or not, but they did indeed call the next morning & talk to Uncle Bud, who was kinda sorta feeling the same way, & then let Olaf know that they would let him welcome the Norwegians without them. Yee-haw! This is big for my parents. They frequently try to be all things to all people & that can be a bit tiring. So, congratulations, dear Mom, dear Dad. I'm proud of you. Way to look out for your own best interests.

Blog alternative:
144. Disappoint Olaf. Well, not specifically Olaf, but someone who would like you to do something that you would just as soon not do.