SwitchSwitch to white text on black.Switch to black text on white.
Draplin Design Co., North America



Okay, so “one more” day at home.

See, the thing is, no matter how much I prepare or fight to get all the shit done, I still get home and never seem to have enough time for “doing nothing” and “enjoying being around the parents.” The schedule always presses. Seems like I just got back, and I’m right back out there, and wondering when I’ll be back again, instantly.

So I spent another day at home taking shit easy, finishing up stuff on the ‘puter and finally, packing up for the trip down to Detroit.

Mom, Gary and I pushed off from Shorter Lake Woods sometime around 8pm.

Some shots from around the Draplin Parental Compound:
072. “Rare Disneyana from Dad’s collection.”
073. “Dad, slicked back.”
074. “Little Chloe, four-years-old.”
075. “Leah and her little Vomastics.”
076. “Leah and her favorite Vomastic.”
077. “Mom at dinner.”
078. “Little Olivia Denoyer.”
079. “The Derek Denoyer Love Explosion.”
080. 080. “”Mom and Dad.”
081. Mom and Dad.”
082. “Little sister Leah, leaving for Portland.”

Smooth sailing all the way down, pulling into Unca Terry’s house off Highway 23 and m-59 in Howell a little before midnight. We caught up with Unca Terry and my sister Sarah (who’s staying there while she houseshops in Ann Arbor for her new audiology gig there) for a bit, let Gary bark the shit outta the place and pushed on over to Milford to Aunt Mary’s. We sat up for a bit, shooting the shit about God and children’s books and PT Cruisers.

I love my Aunt Mary. Let’s just make that one a little extra clear. She’s always been good to me.

Wait, hold a sec. She would ferret out our holiday candy and steal it with zero guilt. There’s one infraction I still hold against her. No matter how hard I’d work trying to stash it away, she’d sniff it out and get real liberal with it. My Aunt Mary is a religious lady, and, she’d like you to give some thought to the little pads on a dog’s foot. Everytime I look at Gary’s foot I hear her saying, “How can you say there is no God? Who made the pads on a dog’s paw? They didn’t just ‘happen’ y’know!” I have to say, I factor this point into my daily existential wonderings, very often, especially around the G-Unit. Thank heavens for Aunt Mary.

083. “Aunt Mary.”
084. “My mom, whom I love very, very much.”

Goodnight from Milford, in the house where I last saw my Gramma Josie some years back, so frail, yet, tough enough to make me a hearty lunch and smile the whole time I scarfed that shit down. I miss her dearly.

Fell asleep with Gary right up against me; thinking about Grandmothers and their Detroit lives.

There Are 2 Comments

Looks like that 30D is being put to good use.

Posted by: Pancho on 09/03/06 at 4:59 AM

Hey Aaron,
Hard for me to digest the blend of godliness with “ferret” thievery. I know it’s all true, except I would like to state on own behalf that all bulk candy I helped myself to was stashed in an upper cupboard and many months old. But, yes, of course, I took some tootsie rolls and hershey eggs from a couple of halloween bags and easter baskets, but the bulk of my theft was from the upper cupboard, which, by the way, is where all old things are placed. I find lots of candy dislocated in many homes. The chocolate beckons, regardless of its’ color. I just help myself. And, have I ever been caught? NO! Hell NO. But I have confessed my sins to my victims and to the Lord. To my knowledge, you are the only person who hasn’t forgiven me. Would you please? Forgiveness doesn’t mean you ever have to trust me with your candy. It merely means my black slate with you will be wiped clean (think of those black pads where you just lift the plastic sheet up and the writing disappears) and it also frees your weary soul of the bag of crap you have been holding against me that seems to thicken with the years. I will await your response with hopefulness and laughter. Love Mary

Posted by: Aunt Mary on 09/04/06 at 5:15 PM
Post a Comment