I am wearing my “useless” nightie. I have deemed it thus because things keep popping out of it. Fellow says, “Not everything need fall under the servitude of utilitarianism.”
He’s working the night shift and I’m all alone with my sexy neckline and my sore stitches. I just came back from seeing Bellaluna Production’s story about the Italian santa, Bafana. She gives out gifts to children January 6th: epiphany. Susan Bertoia made a feisty little strega, flying on her broom. As always with Bellaluna, it was a ridiculous and absolutely compelling evening!
And, like every other event I’ve been to at the Italian Cultural Centre, they follow the presentation with a buffet. Today it was low key: just pizza and panettone. The kids got to eat for free. The children were also given bags of candy and then Bafana herself came out and scuttled around for picture taking with her apron and little red kerchief and she handed out some major gifts! All three girls were given a “Monster High” doll. It was an incredibly fun and generous evening.
As the girls skip out the door, giggling with delight and clutching their bootie, Nora says, “Well, that sure was a cultural experience!” Which made me laugh. “That was so Italian! It started late there were a lot of kids and tons of food!” And then the girls started chatting away about their different backgrounds. Alberta is part First Nations and the girls were talking about drumming and dances and Sakina is Indian and the girls talked about curry and that festival where “people throw powdered colours all over themselves. So cool!” (Holi) I don’t remember having these conversations when I was a kid. Maybe because in Red Deer, 1980, everyone’s last name either ended in “ski” or “son”. The biggest cultural difference was whether you ate German sausage or Mennonite sausage.
I feel a little apologetic dropping Sakina off to her Mom (devout Muslim). I joke, “I didn’t realize tonight your daughter would be pumped full of sugar, stories of the Christian nativity, and be given a slutty demon doll…hope it’s okay! Bye!”
Nora, once home, crawls into bed with her little green faced bimbo vampire tramp that I’m surprised doesn’t come scented with fuzzy naval shooters and vomit. She says “Mommy, this was one of the best nights ever.”
Well, good. Sometimes you just gotta let your kid have the Monster High Doll. Sometimes you gotta keep the useless nightie because it amuses the Fellow. Last year my New Year’s Resolution was “make more mischief” And it did me some good. Isn’t that when most epiphanies happen? When the ridiculous is entertained?
