True to her word, Lawrence Welk's assistant Margaret sent me not one, but two coffee cups last week. I was so beset with joy that I did the happy dance around the living room in my foundation garments, annoying the cat and my husband Patrick to the point where they both assumed the "I give you my back, you feeb" (short for 'feeble') position. Did I care? Nay, I did not care. As those of us with low-thrill thresholds know, their haughty demeanor belies the hurt child inside - the hurt child that aches to drink his Ovaltine from a Lawrence Welk mug.
When I stopped my caper-cutting long enough to look over my treasure, I realized … dear Lord in accordion heaven … that the image on the mug was the same image that I plucked randomly from dozens of web images to use for my blog post. I immediately showed it to Patrick, who gave it a cursory glance then resumed his "my back, you feeb" pose. Not daunted by his callousness, I pursued the enormity of the coinky-dink.
"Don't you think it's just … eerie?"
"No."
"I mean, of all the images I could have picked, I picked the exact same one they use for their mugs. That's just wild."
"Wild."
"I think it means we're connected somehow."
"As long as he doesn't bring Myron Floren for a threesome."
So I'm left to ponder the Big Issues myself. But that's fine, I'm used to it. I drink my coffee from it every morning and it makes me happy. But listen, if I ever see a Lawrence Welk mug on eBay, and one of mine is missing, I'm calling my wunnerful baton-wielding buddy in the sky to inflict a little whoop-de-do ass. Then we'll see who doubts our connection.
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