All About Me. Or: Karen’s Birthday.

“Gary,” I whispered, “do not under any circumstances mention The Lump to your family. It’s Karen’s birthday, and it’s her day.”
“Ok.”
“Besides, it’s just a lump.”
“Ok.”
“And I don’t want them praying and then giving the credit to Jesus when it turns out to be nothing.”
“Ok.”

Because they would. They believe firmly in allying with Jesus for pre-emptive attacks against Disaster. For example, after her surgery Karen canceled an appointment for an electrician to come and install a ceiling fan because he might “fall through the ceiling, and then there would be dust while [her] lungs were still recovering.” But let’s say Karen did have the electrician come. While he was there the S_____s would pray fervently that he did not fall through the ceiling, and when he miraculously DID NOT FALL THROUGH THE CEILING, Hallelujah, all glory to God.

The Queen Mom does the same thing, minus the praying. I think she calls it being prepared, but I did not inherit the preparedness gene. Nurture overcame Nature and I adopted the “What Me Worry” gene from Dad. I feel firmly you don’t have a problem until you actually have a problem. Might have cancer? Neh. Have cancer? ‘Kay, maybe, but not really, until you have cancer a second time. That’s when things get rocky. Then you can worry.

At any rate, the S____ family takes their alliance with Jesus very seriously, as evidenced by the fact that Ken over-seeded the lawn because Wilma says it was an embarrassment to the Jesus Sign:

Evidently this is their mezuzah. Plus, it will help Jesus find their house. You know, like the firemen need the house numbers painted on the curb. But really, look at that lawn. You just know Jesus hates that.