Don't Encourage Her

It was the sudden onset of a manic episode that caused me to miss the turn onto Hillsboro Road. But after a short diversion I finally crossed the covered bridge and arrived at the Inn of the Three Sisters in Pittsboro. Just as the threatening clouds decided to stop bluffing, roll up their sleeves and get down to it.

As we pulled into a parking space near the entrance, I gaged the volume of the downpour and having considered this and that, decided to wait it out. After what seemed like a couple of moments, the 11 year-old geezer in the passenger seat asked, "Why do you talk like that?"

I don't need to tell you that her remark wasn't the start of the conversation. I like that about you--that I don't need to explain every little thing. Now that I think of it, why don't you join us one morning at Native Grounds for coffee. It's in the Renaissance District, near Southpoint. The tribe would love to meet you.

I was taken back by the question she asked but I leaned into it. 

"And why, Lucy," I said, "do you continue to ask the same question that I've answered again and again?" 

And yes, I know you're thinking that I shouldn't call her by the name she doesn't like, but sometimes, well, sometimes you just..oh you know what I mean.

"No," she said, "I'm not talking about the stupid way you put sentences together. What I mean is that your manic fits don't have anything to do with thunderstorms."

Well! I mean! I gasped, and I'm sure you can guess why. I mean, just what the hell did she mean 'stupid way of putting sentences together,' and did she really use the term, manic fits? Manic fits! And did I really say out loud that I missed the turn because of a manic episode?

"For the last time, you ankle-biter, I don't have fits! I do experience emotional interruptions to the cognitive circuits, but much like electrical surges. Sometimes the mental clocks begin blinking and need resetting after such a surge but no real harm."

"Unless your mental phone is plugged into a mental outlet and gets mentally fried," she said.

"Lucy Lupe Mankiller!" I said and I meant every last word. I fully intended to stop this charging tween in her tracks and I knew those three words would do it.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," she said, letting me know that she'd had enough of the subject for now.

I think this is a good place to stop and reassure you that there is no permanent rift between the Genome and his god-niece. We're forever teammates. We do get our feathers in twist from time to time but it never lasts.

Keep the faith, my friend. This sacred pilgrimage continues for its eighth year and the joy continues with it.