Selective reading and Hiding Wallace
John home from work yesterday sees my LJ open and says, “I’ve never read it from the source — do you mind?.” He sits down & starts to read but he’s scrolling and skimming — I shoulda known he isn’t interested in all the gaming commentary. I peep over his shoulder and he notices me scrutinizing what he’s scanning. “Most of this shit is way over my head, you know, the parts where you ‘grabbank a grobilious and reach level gradius’ I just look for the parts about me. And the kids too, of course.” He particularly appreciated the Sammy Davis Jesus line.
Making John laugh remains my pervasive driving ambition in life. With his sense of humor so keen, if I make him laugh I know I’ve germinated the penultimate essence of humor, even if its just momentary. Its rare but sometimes I say or write something so hilarious or unintentional he’ll actually laugh out loud. That’s a savory triumph right there. Most of the time when I think I’ve had a particularly humorous moment, he’ll console me with “I’m laughing on the inside.”
Over his other shoulder, our little 3″ bendy-figurine of Nick Park’s Wallace hangs behind a framed needlework my mother made in the 70’s when my father was in seminary at the University of the South (the Mount St. Michel of the Southern United States). Only his fisty hands and knobby-nosed face show. Ah HAH! The game’s afoot — with John engaged in my LJ, I snatch Wallace and pocket him on my way to make dinner. For your vicarious pleasure: beef shank pot roast with rosemary and roasted vegetables, frenched green beans, and for dessert, fresh cherries.Wallace, you intrepid traveller back in my possession once more! For the past fourteen years give or take a year, our Wallace Action Figure has been more places than Anthony Bourdain or Rick Steves. Our little game started when several Wallace & Gromit figurines & toys came home from KFC (?) after we were married, purchased for me by John (sweethearts floating up from my head in anime fashion as I recall this romantic gesture). Yeah, its a grown-up, married peoples game, but one that only twisty minds like us appreciate.
Hiding Wallace, who knows when it began or how? Wallace gets hidden, Wallace gets found. Times there’s been he’s gone unfound for weeks at a time. He’s a bendy toy, so can fit in any myriad of places. The finder never mentions when or where Wallace was found, only re-hides him without interruption and goes about his or her merry way. The original hider only knows Wallace’s been found when he or she looks in the original hiding place…..that’s the green light that you have to start looking for Wallace again.
Over the years he’s been in the toilet reserve tank, the egg carton, buried in the sugar box, literally sandwiched between slices of bread in the bag, and tucked into diaper wipe boxes. He’s peered out from potted plants, pantry shelves, and the pr0n collection. He’s had his feet frozen in ice cube trays, been submerged in the water cooler bottle, suffocated in rice bags and crammed inside the gas cap cover of the car. He’s been in thousands of places, mundane and suprising alike. Most other couples kiss each other every morning or say, “Have a good day, honey!” We hide the Wallace.
Our kids only last year realized we play Hide the Wallace, but they can’t quite get the rules. If they see me hide Wallace, the next time we’re sitting at dinner they’ll announce, “I know that Wallace is in the cover of your calculator, but I’m not supposed to tell you!” D’OH. Also, they think that since they are “in” on the game they should be able to hide him too. We’ve had to lay down the law on the hiding of the Wallace as something only grownups do. God knows what we’d do if he got lost. Our marriage would probably fall to pieces.
