When we changed headquarters this summer, we lost the camera charger.
Dozens upon dozens of boxes have been searched, and it has not turned up.
But if we buy another one, it will turn up immediately. So we haven’t. And therefore it hasn’t turned up.
Where the hell are you?? Where did you go? Did my dad put you in his jacket pocket and then throw away the jacket? Did he insert you somewhere and forget about you? Arrrrghhhhhh!
Meanwhile the camera has lost its charge. This means no more drunken pictures or bear porn for the time being. And while it’s not such a loss in terms of yours truly, whose appearance follows an imperceptible but predictable trajectory from mangy to filthy, the kids in the house are aging, getting taller, growing their hair, losing their teeth. Undocumented.
They may well be teenagers by the time my dad breaks down and buys a new charger. He’ll arrive home with it, having surrendered the battle against Murphy’s Law and finally ponied up at the NCIX counter, only to interrupt Miss P necking on the couch with some scurrilous unworthy kid—because she will be 15 by the time he finally caves in. OMG!! We are dying without that little connector. The children are losing their recorded childhood, not to mention any documentary evidence they might one day proffer to Child Services. This is serious shit.
Surely not? Not in…in there?
It’s almost as awful as when my mum poured an entire bottle of MARQUIS DE LA TOUR over the Thanksgiving turkey. She does this every year, and I always cry when she does it. She says it “makes the gravy,” which seems to neglect the contribution of the gigantic dead bird being baptized by $12 sparkling vino.
Admittedly she did give me an infinitesimal sample before wasting the bottle. My thimbleful (NO PICTURES AVAILABLE) was pale gold with teeny moustache-tickling bubbles. The scent was delicate and pleasing if somewhat simple. On the tongue the bubbles danced with more sweetness than expected. While the flavor was crisp and clean, it nevertheless suggested melons and other fruits that appeal especially to the rapidly maturing kids (NO PICTURES AVAILABLE) who reside at LBHQ. Were one allowed to have a full glass of MARQUIS DE LA TOUR, the sipping would be easy and refreshing.
I don’t honestly think a small swallow of sparkling wine is adequate for a fair tasting, but my parents countered this argument by saying that Robert Parker regularly swishes as many as 50 wines around his gob in quick succession, rendering judgments within 30 seconds. Essentially they called me on my bitching and donated a bottle of perfectly good booze to a dead turkey. And then they said: “You’re lucky we’re not cooking a bear with an apple in its mouth.”
Last night it occurred to me that this blog might not make much sense to my newer readers. Only so much can be rationalized by the statement “I was drunk,” so perhaps a summary would help catch new readers up.
LBHQ (Liquorstore Bear Headquarters) consists of four humans (five if you count Dolly—more on that later) and countless animals. Occasionally humans visit from outside (grandparents, uncles, aunts, friends), and of course the animal pile grows with every gift-giving occasion. Of all of us, there’s only one self-avowed alcoholic (guess who). But there are plenty of liquor aficionados, which keeps the supply slowly trickling through LBHQ (and I do mean trickling, as in seeping). So, MFI (that’s you, my fellow inebriates), here are the short strokes.
CAST OF CHARACTERS
The Humans
Dad
Formerly self-employed but now working for the man, Dad is the quintessential geek. Never without a handful of electronic devices, he is plugged in all day, all the time, without ever being punctual.
Hobbies
Music
Stereo gear
Golf (in his dreams)
Mum
Brimming with frustration and often spinning her career wheels, the Talking Heads lyric “How did I get here?…” best explains her parenting. Although she usually has my back, she would be fully capable of buying a bear-skin rug.
Hobbies
Eating
Reading
Heaving steel
Miss P
With two months till her seventh birthday and a smile devoid of the important teeth, P’s power to frighten bears has recently ratcheted up.
Hobbies
Dressing up
Dressing bears up
Bonking bears on the head
Miss V
The most intense personality at LBHQ, V loves all animals, as long as they do her bidding. She is that kid who, when you say you’re really leaving the playground and she’d better come along or she’ll get left behind, will never fall for it.
Hobbies
Demanding food and then ignoring it
Celebrating birthdays (Chihuahua has had at least 15 this year)
World domination
Nana
Part cyborg, part human, all mama to my dad, Nana doesn’t visit us often enough, but when she does she brings Italian and French wines, enlarging our tasting repertoire and messing with my dad by making him guess how much they cost.
Hobbies
Hosting massive parties
Creating one-of-a-kind cakes (the kids say they “want kirsch” in the next one; don’t ask me how they thought of it)
Replacing her knees with high-tech implants
Papa
Not a cyborg but married to one, Papa is my dad’s dad, and very good at it. Industrious and project-oriented, he always has something going on.
Hobbies
Co-hosting massive parties
Wine tasting
Spying on birds
The Animals
Scarybear
Apocalyptic and mangy, Scary can remember a time before kids when he had the TV all to himself. Asked about his origins, Scary will tell you he was caught in a leghold trap and brought by force to Toys R Us, right before he caught a giant salmon…
Hobbies
Science fiction
Conspiracy theory
Speculating how the world will end
Blackie Bear
My go-to friend when I feel anxious, Blackie also hails from the liquor store, although he doesn’t romanticize it the way I do. He thinks we need more girl bears at LBHQ, and he’s probably right.
Hobbies
Relaxing
Chilling
Letting me misquote him
Chihuahua
Three inches tall and attached to a hook, Chihuahua is Miss V’s most prized animal. The one time she “accidentally” tore its hook off, she screamed until it was sewn back on.
Hobbies
Yapping
Getting lost in small spaces
Appearing suddenly at the dinner table
Fluffy Bear
Scary’s long-lost and much fluffier twin, Fluffy lived seven years in Ireland with our granny. Shipped to LBHQ after her death last year, Fluffy is perpetually catatonic. He uses his mind (presumably under Granny’s control) to make things go bump in the night. I am totally freaked out by him.
Hobbies
Staring
Listening
Plotting
Dolly
My sometimes-but-mostly-not girlfriend, Dolly often gets lost in the toybox. Her open-minded attitude toward interspecies coupling lends refreshing perspective to LBHQ. Because she is a proven furvert, I’m including her with the animals.
Hobbies
Sarcasm alternated with confusingly genuine affection
Liquorstore Bear 