The Wormlips Scrapbook

Lulu was home for a few hours on Sunday but she didn’t have much time to hang out because of an obligation at 5:30 sharp. She had an instance.

What’s an “instance”? you might ask. I have no idea, but it has something to do with killing monsters. For an hour she hammered frantically at the computer keyboard while strange sounds emanated from the speakers. I ignored World of Warcrafts’s electronic growls and zaps, but perked up when I heard real-live men’s voices.

Please stay tuned for general rebuffing. Get your unstable flasks; they’re only good in here. Greystone Cartel: can you hear me now?

I think she said the term for these guys is “raid leaders.”

I’ll do a 3-2-1. Keep it nice and consistent. Soul well’s up. Please get your candy.

I’ve never heard full-grown adult males with wives and children talk like this.

Okay for a read-check. Please give Mr. X applied. Ready for the pull. Krotch is in a really odd spot. Watch out for him.

The more riveted I became, the more it annoyed Lulu, whose Personal Space I was invading as she innocently tried to concentrate on killing pixelated things.

Chakka back up. Pull the blind eye back. Skull is down. Ranged to kill Krosh. Kill Moon first. Take him down! Okay, everyone can go on Triangle.

Eventually I got bored with scribbling notes and decided to go buy an ice cream cone.

“What kind of ice cream do you want?” I asked Lulu, who remained myopically immersed in the game.

“Pauldrons.”

“What?!”

“Shoulders.”

Sunday’s Lesson: Never try to talk to someone who’s in an instance.

Monday’s Lesson: Don’t try to eat dinner while you’re watching Interview with the Vampire. Every time I took a bite of food, some guy would start slurping on someone’s spurting artery. I had to shut the TV off altogether when Tom Cruise sunk his fangs into a rat and squeezed its black blood into a wine glass.

Today’s Lesson: I can’t decide if it’s “Check your calendar each night so you don’t sleep through a forgotten appointment” or “In a vampire movie, the worst is never over; even though the rat scene is past, don’t try to eat dinner while watching, particularly when dinner is spaghetti with tomato sauce.”

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From a distance I thought the blob on the wall by the icebox was a spider. “Lulu! Come here QUICKLY!”

Lulu strolled in several minutes later. Investigating what I was pointing at, she saw only opportunity. She rolled up a newspaper and let out a squeal as she swatted at the spot. Which of course was only a chip in the paint and not a spider at all. As if she hadn’t done enough damage already, she vanished momentarily and returned with a pen, embellishing the area so it will continue to alarm me every time I walk by.

Well, two can play at that. I just wadded together some raisins, shoved eight twisty-ties through them and stuck my creation on her pillow. It gives a good effect, which low light will enhance. She hasn’t seen it yet.

I’d like to think revenge will be mine but I know better. I’d bet my own blog that something bigger and nastier will have appeared in my bed by daybreak.

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Today I drove the hour-and-a-half into the big valley to Lulu’s dorm to pick up the cacti and dirty laundry that are coming home for Christmas break.

When I arrived, the building was spitting out a stream of young people as alarms blared and corridor lights flashed. The exiting kids looked at me funny as I marched on in. They don’t yet know that no one can stop a mother in search her child or a bathroom. I found the former one flight up, heading down.

To her dismay we couldn’t stop long enough to see if the building was going to burn down. We were late for her doctor’s appointment.

Next we made quick visits to old friends I hadn’t seen for a long time. I stopped by the design firm of my old (I mean former) Irish dance partner Lila, with whom I won first place in the North American Irish dance championship a few years back, thank you very much for asking. Then to the hippie grocery store where I had ten wonderful minutes with my other old dance partner, Cheryl.

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We broke into an impromptu reel in the parking lot. (Sorry, but I accidentally deleted the photos from my camera.)

Back on campus, Lulu took me to lunch at the DC which is the fanciest DC I’ve ever seen. I’ve never seen a DC before and I don’t know what a DC is, but this one is fancy. A bunch of sofas and glass tables off to the right as you come in. No humble menu board here, but the actual dishes on display in a tasteful pyramid (a food pyramid), adorned for the winter holiday season with fake snow and potted poinsettia. Beyond that, six or seven serving stations named things like Tomato Street Grill, Pacific Fusion, Saucy, Go Live and Plaza Sweets. Quite a contrast to the cockroach- and mouse-ridden kitchen of my freshman apartment at Pratt.

We ran into Lulu’s roomie and friends at the DC.

I asked Lulu if she was embarrassed to be seen there with an elderly mother. She said no. She recanted soon after, when I wouldn’t stop taking pictures.

She is great fun to torture.

T’was sad to bid farewell once again to my little girl, but she’ll be home next week.

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