Monday, September 25, 2006
How Atheists Say Grace
I don't really have time to post today, but I thought I'd share with you a true story I just emailed to Curlz.
My ultra-religious cousin and her husband were over with their children (adorable five-year-old boy and sweet 2-year-old girl) for dinner last night, and my mom, who is forever trying to impress them with her Martha Stewartesque cooking skillz and general domesticity (because gee, how strange, that sort of thing impresses them) had cooked an actual stuffed chicken for the occasion. My dad was carving the beast as he usually does when we all sort of realised that my cousins didn't plan to start eating unless someone said grace.
Well, grace is something that we in my immediate family simply do not say, ever, but I have noticed that religious tolerance in my extended family usually works in only one direction (that is, towards the religious people rather than the atheists). So my mom gave in as she often does and we joined hands to say grace. Even my exceedingly non-religious and originally very Jewish (and for that matter, gay) aunt gave in and held my hand so we could say a prayer.
Meanwhile, my dad kept on carving that beast like there was no tomorrow, and I hissed across the table in my best discreet whisper "DAD! Stop it!" I did this about four or five times and he just kept right on carving. Then my brother started in, whispering "Dad, quit carving for just a minute!" He finally seemed to get that my cousin was about to say grace, but rather than putting the carving utensils down like a normal person might have done, he just stopped and let them hover in the air like some sort of chicken force field while my cousin did his usual and rather endearing "dear God, thank you for this family, that we can all be together, bla bla bla, in Jesus' name, amen."
I guess this was my dad's silent and exceedingly cheeky little bit of protest, but it was so fucking funny that whatever maturity I was demonstrating for the occasion kind of went out the window. And this was before I accidentally used the word "biotch" in conversation at the dinner table. Oh man that was a bad slip-up.
I went to the kitchen under the premise of getting a drink, and burst into rather poorly-concealed giggling behind the door to the fridge in the cool fridgey air. My brother came around the corner and saw me and he cracked up too. Imagine two overgrown children giggling between the stove and the fridge in our tiny kitchen and you have some idea of how ridiculously hilarious the situation was.
My mom was mad at me today, but it was worth it. I am a nice girl with a very naughty side. And those family dinners where I have to act straight and not say 'fuck,' fun as they often are, are killing me softly with their song. I had to spend two hours sending dirty text messages to the aforementioned redhead afterwards just to feel like I was, well, HUMAN again.
Haha. God, I'm still laughing.
Going to see Claire out tomorrow and the next day so I probably won't be able to post. Wish me luck, sanity, and a little fucking level-headedness.
She just texted me to say she's going to be so excited to see me that she probably won't sleep tonight. Aw x 100 = the loveliest Claire-flavoured butterflies.
Have a nice couple of days, everyone.
A bientot,
-N
