Aphrodite Asparagus

Last Sunday, my wife Mollie and I left a Church Salmon Bake on Vashon Island to follow a big yellow school bus rumored to be transporting VIP guests from the ferry terminal to a sculpture unveiling at LaSalle Reserve. We especially wanted to see a magnificent 13 foot sculpture installed in the garden as Our Lady of the Asparagus in a similar ceremony in 2018. We wound up a narrow driveway, disregarded instructions leading to gridlock, and moved a two-by-four blocking a parking space. The effort was rewarded when free chocolate and vanilla ice cream cones were served. Each time through the line, I received a smaller dollop of ice cream despite informing the suspicious scoopers that I needed another cone for my disabled mother.

Mollie was not supervising me because she was distracted. First she worried she addressed Tom Skerritt as “Brian” and that I had not helped cover up that gaffe. I reminded her that my previous attempts to correct her in public all ended badly. I assured her that Skerritt was not present because I stole his parking space. I suggested the actual Tom at our table likely heard “briny” and not “Brian” because we were describing the taste of asparagus ice cream allegedly on the menu, a falsehood I was spreading to shorten the ice cream line. Besides, the host referred to me as “Kevin” and nobody was embarrassed about that. I often answer to my late brother’s name. He would be delighted with rumors now circulating that he is alive. Mollie also apparently sat on someone’s plate of food. I was cautioned not to mention the stain on the seat of her pants by people who were either trying to save our marriage or just wanted the fun of telling her themselves.