Thursday, August 4, 2011

Rapunzel

Sorry for the break in writing.  Thus continues the saga of my mother.

I made a visit to my mother's house around the holidays and couldn't help but notice her obscene display of Rapunzel, the main character for the cartoon Tangled.  Upon walking in through the front door, her visitors are greeted, or perhaps bombarded, with her shrine.  High on the top shelf, she has the Rapunzel doll, still in the original packaging, in all its glory.  She had been thinking about using it as the "angel" on top of her Christmas tree.  I suggested to her that maybe she keep it stored away in a very special place, just in case thieves came in for the loot. (And I have to admit my intentions were not solely altruistic for her or her doll's safety. What if I dared to bring a male visitor over, while my mom was out running errands of course.  I didn't want to have to explain the insanity.  Unless if I got him boozed up first, then I could convince him he was hallucinating and the bartender must have "slipped something in his drink."  It could work, but I didn't want to risk it.)

As I reached up to grab the doll off the shelf, my mother shrieked at the top of her lungs, "We're all gonna die!!!"  I stopped cold in my tracks and only moved my eyeballs to glance at her out of the corner of my peripheral vision. She stated that she had indeed booby-trapped it to set off a small IED which would shoot shrapnel everywhere.  And she had 24hr video surveillance of the room.  She said if she saw a burglar on surveillance in the middle of the night, she had a panic room she could slip into that was shrapnel proof and sound proof.  I wanted to ask her if it had a lock on the outside and padded walls.

Later that evening I meandered through her condo searching for a place to rest my weary, travel-laden head.  I had one of two choices...the Green Bay Packer's room, which still has Barbie and Ken in it having a picnic (their food has gotten slightly stale over the years), or the Rapunzel room.  In the Rapunzel room, there is a large "Rapunzel" quilt laid out neatly on top of the bed.  My mother informed me she made it herself.

When I finally could no longer keep my tongue from committing verbal suicide, I asked my mom about her fascination with this character.  She replied, "Well you know, I am Rapunzel.  I mean, really, we were both taken away from our families when we were young and forced to live in a lonely tower.  Only to be visited and rescued by a prince on his white horse."

Again, I had a small panic attack.  Was my mother completely losing it?  No.  I had to remind myself of her history.  And she did have a point, there is an uncanny resemblance between her and this cartoon character....long blonde hair....green eyes.  Hmm...she was beginning to make a believer out of me.

But there was one problem...who was this man on a white horse?  My father never rode horses.  I snapped back into reality.

Then she asked me if I would like to see her quote en quote "tramp stamp" tattoo of the name "Rapunzel" in Old English Calligraphy.

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