First I suppose a short update on Prometheus’ education might be expected. Last night I borrowed a set of dog training DVD’s from my neighbors (not Lucrecia and Hernando; we’ve avoided each other like the plague since the afternoon everyone realized how badly I keep a secret). The video’s cover advertised the training method as foolproof. And while the series isn’t actually titled “Dog Training for Dummies,” that’s certainly the implication. Knowing Prometheus and me, all I can say is: “We’ll see.”
Moving on, the focus of today’s entry concerns my telephone call with Frank this morning. My wise-ass brother phoned to discuss our sister’s impending nuptials. More specifically, he wanted my take on some movie titles he’d selected as appropriate labels for Lisa’s engagement and upcoming marriage. I didn’t think much of his first offering: “Miracle on 34th Street” (a too-obvious reference to the degree of improbability highlighted by Lisa’s engagement IMHO). However, I did enjoy his second proposal: “The Manchurian Candidate” (an allusion to Lisa’s undoubtedly brainwashed fiancé). And although admittedly pessimistic and not at all nice, his final selection seemed all too apt: “Kramer vs. Kramer” (an acknowledgment of the questionable viability of Lisa’s marriage, in the unlikely event she reaches the altar this time).
The “Kramer vs. Kramer” reference brought Frank to the main reason for his call. As he went on to explain, he’s putting together a pool among family and friends who know Lisa. Pool entrants have to guess the date on which Lisa or her fiancé officially calls off the engagement (a short window to be sure, since the wedding is scheduled in August two months from now). Though the idea sounds mean-spirited and overly negative at first blush, and probably at second and third blush too, I knew that wasn’t Frank’s intent. Much like me he subscribes to the idea of hedging one’s bets in order to soften what otherwise might feel like devastating blows. We usually apply the theory to sports, gambling against our favorite teams so we can console ourselves with a wad of cash if they lose. Likewise, neither of us wants Lisa’s engagement to fall apart, but if the worst should happen …?
Needless to say, I told Frank he could count me in. I picked July 4, mainly because I like the poetic symmetry of fireworks in the sky paralleling the incendiary argument that’ll terminate Lisa’s engagement. When I asked him which date he’d chosen, he replied: “I haven’t yet; incidentally, are you planning to come up anytime before the wedding?”
“Funny, Frank. Will your pool selection happen to coincide with my arrival date?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he replied. “I’ll pick the day after. Even Richard Stern needs a little time to work his black magic!”
I called Frank a name which rhymes with “docktucker” and hung up. But even as I did, the thought occurred to me: The clever bastard! Why didn’t I think of that?
A different kind of pool