Muffins of Doom

I've been sick since Saturday or so (thanks, probably, to my unusually fatty bones), and got a surprise visit this morning from Gloria, who'd heard I was sick brought some of her famous Muffins of Doom over (I hadn't had any since July, so they were a real treat).

It was less a treat to see how excited Gloria was about my family's ill health. I've had a fever and some ears-and-throat infection I get whenever I don't sleep enough, Kira's got pinkeye and two ear infections, Nicole has been feeling gross. A bad week, for sure, but Gloria seems to think it's a sign of the Apocalypse.

"I look at your family, and it's like I can see a hoofprint from my favorite horseman," she said. "Man, I miss you guys."

Then, of course, she had to rejoice over recent events on Capitol Hill.

"I don't think Barack Obama is the Anti-Christ, but he's definitely an Anti-Christ" she said. "Why do you think he and Congress are trying so hard to do something about health care? They know that pestilence has to come before Jesus comes back, and they don't want Jesus to come. Shame on them!"

Gloria already knows I don't agree with her about health care, so I kept myself busy with one of her banana muffins and just listened.

"At first, I just missed President Bush. He was such a good President, Apocalypse-wise" she said, "but lately, what with the election of Senator Brown and the record snowstorms in Washington--well, I'm as giddy as a little school girl on the first day of school. The End is near and not even a bearded Hilary Clinton could stop it!"

The thing about bananas that makes them so appropriate for muffins of doom, Gloria once told me, is that they have to "ripen in iniquity" first. I may not agree with her about politics or what is and isn't a sign from God, but I appreciate the way she talks. Sometimes, with friends, form trumps content--and it's nice to have good friends.