she's so beatrical

q. shenaynay

And now for a word about Beatrice.

There are no entirely normal days with Beatrice. You never know what's coming next, but you do know that it is coming. She says what you weren't expecting to hear. She takes photos of things you looked right at but didn't see.

Now, she lives under the delusion that she's average and even normal. We laugh indulgently at her for this, but only when she is distracted. Just imagine a magician who is oblivious to the fact that average civilians don't pull rabbits out of tophats.

If you're not riding her roller coaster, you'll miss all of it -- she's quiet about it, slippery and quick. And sometimes she's maddeningly obtuse and leaves you feeling slightly out of focus... and then six hours later you get it. This is one of my favorite things about Beatrice, actually. She's like a living riddle.

Fa and I were feeling particularly bemused by her beatricality tonight, in a fond and beholden sort of way, so for the past hour, we have kept a little log of whatever happened to come forth from the mouth of Beatrice... here, then, is a random sampling, and I do mean random:

(oh, and please imagine all of the following being said with a quirky, dry flourish)

"Some Middle Eastern dude. Or maybe somebody named Paul. But my water's boiling."
(when asked to cite the source of a quote)

"I would look washed out. Like a ...squash."
(discussing personal appearance issues with Fa)

"UGH! I just learned you can't kick the ball in a regular football play. So whyyy do they call it football?"
(coming in from the back yard with Spuddy, quite put out.)

"Ack! MAMADAH! The pasta! It's heathen! It rages! It imagines a vain thing!"
(trying to prepare dinner; see Psalm 2)

"Caitlin and Dan are rather like the puritan woman and her basket..."
(she neglected to finish this thought, which is probably for the best)

Walking in with all her massive hair covering her face and holding her head in both hands, looking rather like a rasta muppet:
"OWWWW. Newton has turned against me."
(seems she had been head banging to Rascal Flatts and found it caused gravitational scalp pain)

and as the hour came to a close... I said to Great Scot, in response to him coming up with a brilliant plan for the upcoming weekend, "Oh, you're gooood!" Whereupon Beatrice quickly retorted, "Actually, you're innately wicked, but you did come up with a swell idea."