Easter Sunday report from Mr. Schprock's daughter
My youngest daughter, Ianna, has started a blog and this is one of her posts. She has kindly consented to allow me to repeat it here.
I strained to open my eyes as I heard a loud, heavy knock on my door. I knew everyone’s knock in my family, and without hesitation I mumbled out loud, “What do you want Dad? Ugh.” I lifted my head a little to see my dad and wait for a reply.
“It’s 7:30, but you have to get ready for Easter. Your mother wants to go to St. Paul’s today and the mass starts at 11. Knowing your mother we’ll most likely be late, but I advise you to get ready as soon as possible to keep out your mother’s way. We all know how she gets.”
I sank my head back down into my pillow. After noticing a pool of drool I left from the night I lifted myself up abruptly and shuffled out my bed.
I could already hear my sister beginning her annual rant on reasons why we shouldn’t go to church on Easter.
“What’s the point if we only go once a year!” she yelled across the hall trying to make a point, yet knowing that it would do her no good.
“Uh, well then talk with your mother.” he replied with a grunt.
By the time breakfast came around, I was still half awake yet grinning because of the nice smell of two eggs every Sunday to start off my day.
“Where’s your mother? I told you to call her down. Did you call Lindsay down?” he asked hastily.
“What? Yeah I told Lindsay and she said she’ll be down in a second, and mom is talking to someone, I think it’s like an emergency or something.” I replied without much enthusiasm in my voice as usual, but you must understand that I felt very hungry and my attention was drawn to the sizzling sound of my eggs being fried.
After about 10 minutes or so while everyone had already started to eat, my mother announced that she was to leave in a few minutes to accompany her friend on a walk. My sister and I were pretty aware that the conversation was about my grandmother in Puerto Rico.
My mother returned to the house around 10:30 while me, my sister and father were making haste to get ready to leave. Why we rushed, I have no idea because we ended up stepping out the door about 15 minutes after the mass started.
By the time we got there, my dad had told us that he’d meet us inside because he was sure it would take him “a while” to find a spot for the car. My sister and I giggled and made jokes because of that. It was clear that he would probably take his sweet time finding a spot for he didn’t want to listen to the ramblings of a priest for 2 hours. That’s just not his bag, my sister and I would agree.
Oh boy, because we arrived so late we couldn’t even enter the main church because it was packed, so we ended up in the basement where that was near full also. I remember right when we entered and my mother saw what was going on, she leaned toward my sister’s ear and said, “Right when your father gets here, we are leaving!”
My sister and I faced each other and couldn’t help but giggle, although in our minds we fought to stop ourselves from bursting out laughing.
My mother felt such an urge to leave that she didn’t even wait for my dad to come in. She just stomped right out as my sister and I followed and we waited for my dad in the parking lot.
You should have seen the look on my father’s face, he flung his arms up and dropped his mouth managing to say, “What happened to you guys? Aren’t you supposed to be inside?”
After we explained what had happened, he marched us off back to the car.
“I am very disappointed. For that, I go to que jeso, eh ese San Gabriel. Johnny can you take me there, the Spanish mass starts at 12,” my mother told my dad, she didn’t ask she ordered!
My dad was the last person on Earth who would want to go to a Spanish mass knowing that he couldn’t understand a word of it. He wanted to enjoy Easter, not dread it!
My argument is that even if the mass is in Spanish or English I still wouldn’t understand a word of it only because we only go to Church once a year!
I reluctantly stepped out the car once we reached the church but it was over before we knew it. I guess what kept me and Lindsay busy was that we were playing tic-tac-toe with the program and my mother’s pen the whole time, oh and a bit of hangman. However, I don’t believe that hangman is the most appropriate game to play in a church.
Now that Church was over, I had to survive about 4 hours inside the same house as I would call, “my criminally insane cousins”. Well, obviously I’m being sarcastic, but that is truly how I feel about most of them.
So that’s basically a summary of how my Easter went. No I wasn’t very fond of that day, and yes I could have had better things to do. In fact, much better things to do such as catching up with my reading. Ah yes, reading is truly fundamental.
I strained to open my eyes as I heard a loud, heavy knock on my door. I knew everyone’s knock in my family, and without hesitation I mumbled out loud, “What do you want Dad? Ugh.” I lifted my head a little to see my dad and wait for a reply.
“It’s 7:30, but you have to get ready for Easter. Your mother wants to go to St. Paul’s today and the mass starts at 11. Knowing your mother we’ll most likely be late, but I advise you to get ready as soon as possible to keep out your mother’s way. We all know how she gets.”
I sank my head back down into my pillow. After noticing a pool of drool I left from the night I lifted myself up abruptly and shuffled out my bed.
I could already hear my sister beginning her annual rant on reasons why we shouldn’t go to church on Easter.
“What’s the point if we only go once a year!” she yelled across the hall trying to make a point, yet knowing that it would do her no good.
“Uh, well then talk with your mother.” he replied with a grunt.
By the time breakfast came around, I was still half awake yet grinning because of the nice smell of two eggs every Sunday to start off my day.
“Where’s your mother? I told you to call her down. Did you call Lindsay down?” he asked hastily.
“What? Yeah I told Lindsay and she said she’ll be down in a second, and mom is talking to someone, I think it’s like an emergency or something.” I replied without much enthusiasm in my voice as usual, but you must understand that I felt very hungry and my attention was drawn to the sizzling sound of my eggs being fried.
After about 10 minutes or so while everyone had already started to eat, my mother announced that she was to leave in a few minutes to accompany her friend on a walk. My sister and I were pretty aware that the conversation was about my grandmother in Puerto Rico.
My mother returned to the house around 10:30 while me, my sister and father were making haste to get ready to leave. Why we rushed, I have no idea because we ended up stepping out the door about 15 minutes after the mass started.
By the time we got there, my dad had told us that he’d meet us inside because he was sure it would take him “a while” to find a spot for the car. My sister and I giggled and made jokes because of that. It was clear that he would probably take his sweet time finding a spot for he didn’t want to listen to the ramblings of a priest for 2 hours. That’s just not his bag, my sister and I would agree.
Oh boy, because we arrived so late we couldn’t even enter the main church because it was packed, so we ended up in the basement where that was near full also. I remember right when we entered and my mother saw what was going on, she leaned toward my sister’s ear and said, “Right when your father gets here, we are leaving!”
My sister and I faced each other and couldn’t help but giggle, although in our minds we fought to stop ourselves from bursting out laughing.
My mother felt such an urge to leave that she didn’t even wait for my dad to come in. She just stomped right out as my sister and I followed and we waited for my dad in the parking lot.
You should have seen the look on my father’s face, he flung his arms up and dropped his mouth managing to say, “What happened to you guys? Aren’t you supposed to be inside?”
After we explained what had happened, he marched us off back to the car.
“I am very disappointed. For that, I go to que jeso, eh ese San Gabriel. Johnny can you take me there, the Spanish mass starts at 12,” my mother told my dad, she didn’t ask she ordered!
My dad was the last person on Earth who would want to go to a Spanish mass knowing that he couldn’t understand a word of it. He wanted to enjoy Easter, not dread it!
My argument is that even if the mass is in Spanish or English I still wouldn’t understand a word of it only because we only go to Church once a year!
I reluctantly stepped out the car once we reached the church but it was over before we knew it. I guess what kept me and Lindsay busy was that we were playing tic-tac-toe with the program and my mother’s pen the whole time, oh and a bit of hangman. However, I don’t believe that hangman is the most appropriate game to play in a church.
Now that Church was over, I had to survive about 4 hours inside the same house as I would call, “my criminally insane cousins”. Well, obviously I’m being sarcastic, but that is truly how I feel about most of them.
So that’s basically a summary of how my Easter went. No I wasn’t very fond of that day, and yes I could have had better things to do. In fact, much better things to do such as catching up with my reading. Ah yes, reading is truly fundamental.
posted by mr. schprock at 5:38 AM
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