I'm actually writing this one a day early (and posting a day late) because I have to work all day and then take my daughter to her Girl Scout camping trip. I figured that by the time I got home I wouldn't even remember to do this plus I'm still trying to justify spending $25 on a lecture Saturday. Maybe we can go to the book fair instead...
Oh by the way, have I ever told you about my friend Bootsy? No? Well, I've known Bootsy for years. Let's just say she's one of a kind. We only recently got back in touch; she had been living abroad, Europe I believe, at least that's what I think she said. Apparently she picked up a very heavy accent along the way.
Anyway, her name really isn't Bootsy. It's actually Elizabeth Marie LaRue, but her grandmother, who raised her after her mom died in childbirth, called her Bootsy and it just stuck. I'm not sure what happened to her dad. Her uncle once said that the grandmother put a curse on him and no one has seen him since. If I'm not mistaken, I believe he also told me that there was such a thing as a chocolate rainbow, which I spent two weeks looking for. Jerk!
Ok, so anyway, Bootsy's back in town, but only for a few weeks. I think she’s here for the rebirth/reburial. I seem to recall they usually have it this time of year. It’s sort of a family celebration of the life of family members who have passed away. Bootsy said they say a prayer and then scatter the ashes of their loved ones in the family garden. Actually it’s not a garden but more like a family cemetery plot with lots of flowers.
Well, this year's “rebirth” celebration should be fun; fireworks, barbeque and music from sunrise to sunset. A few years ago, Bootsy spiked the fruit punch with Mad Dog 20/20. I didn't even know they still made that stuff. The last time we drank it, we both passed out at the bus stop on the way home. Ah, the good ol’ days.
Sorry, I know I'm rambling but I'm just so excited about seeing my old friend. You're probably wondering how I actually managed to stay friends with her. Well, it was hard. She traveled a lot, I moved a lot, but I still kept in touch with Mertle, her great-aunt. Mertle is actually very sweet and makes the best damn rum cake this side of the Mississippi (don't tell my mother though).
Anyway, I try to visit Mertle at least once a year, mostly around Christmas. I swing by, bringing over a sub sandwich and a six pack (that woman loves her Budweiser) and we spend a few hours talking about kids, family and life. She was a life-long church going woman until she found out that her pastor had been cheating on his wife with the deacon's husband.
Yup, he was gay. The whole church was in an uproar apparently. The deacon apparently ran home, they lived across the street, and came back with a gun. When I was talking to Bootsy about it a few months later, she told me that the deacon herself had been having a little “private time” with the secretary of the church. I don't why she was pissed to find out her husband was gay when she was too.
I wish I had a picture to post. Actually I do but my scanner's not working so there’s really nothing I can do about it now. I hope she didn't cut her hair again. She does that, every so often, gets that really short Halle Berry cut and then whines and cries and boo-hoos about how short it is. Then she turns around gets those ridiculously small micro-braids that require two people and two days to put in. I don't know why she doesn't just shave it off and wear a wig. Plenty of women do. Hell, even my mother has one.
Well, I guess that's enough about Bootsy. I just wanted to share with you some of her life and let you get to know her a little. I'll introduce you sometime. Maybe she'll tell you about the time she stuck on a flight to Alabama (pre-9/11) and convinced the flight attendants that she was a seat evaluator and needed to sit in first class to make sure all the seats were comfortable. I laughed so hard when she told me that I almost wet myself.
Laterz!
Introduce me to the character Bootsy LaRue
by K. Britton
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