Triangle Man Hates Particle Man

Drove up to Queens yesterday to celebrate the many generations of Wrong Turn women. (Light traffic, by the way, but we paid for it, as we paid for everything, with axle-cracking potholes on the FDR Drive.) Mrs. WTJ got a few hours off as Wrong Turn Jr. made his way between grandma and auntie. Both of them are deeply in love with the little fellow. And who wouldn't be?



Here he is with a little Gamesters of Triskelion lighting around the eyes:



And here with loving auntie (also pictured at right):



Auntie's two daughters are also fascinated by their cousin. At one point, all of us were lined up on the living-room floor watching him sit up wobbily and chew on a blanket. Then we beavered through a couple bags of Chinese take-out while my older niece watched Nausicaa: Valley of the Winds.

We had a ghost, too: Granny WTJ, who faithful readers will recall left the world on New Year's Eve. Mama WTJ lived with Granny more or less all her life; this was their first Mother's Day apart. Granny's apartment, on the ground floor of Wrong Turn Manor, seems tiny and tomblike these days. Everything she owned--tchochkes, scapulars and a poster of George Clooney--wouldn't fill one closet in our place, but when she was alive the rooms always felt bursting. Her spirit made the place garnished and grand; the forty-year-old linoleum might as well have been marble.

Now it's a fixer-upper garden apartment with original appliances. Except the fridge, which is gone except for a rust stain on the floor. A sobering sight for your correspondent. "I will show you terror in a handful of dust."

Speaking of mortality and all that fun stuff, a good debate is brewing in the comments section of the previous post. I encourage everyone to check it out. I don't have much to add: I gave it my best shot, honestly. But I will just observe that both sides of the debate are essentially arguing from faith, and there might not be as much of a difference between them as they suppose.

@ 7:52:00 AM,

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