Kay's forever blowing bubbles

MARK’S ARTICLE -- November 16, 2009
“Forever blowing bubbles”


Kay and I went to a wedding a couple of months back where, instead of a handful of rice to throw at the couple, we were each given a tiny vial of that bubble blowing liquid. Cool.

The lid to the vial had a little hoop thing affixed to it. Kay and I didn’t stick around for the bubble blowing, ‘cause it was apparent the bride and groom intended to stick around longer than I cared to. A wedding can really drag. Have you noticed? So, Kay and I left, but we took our bubble blowing stuff with us.

Once home, Kay ended up using all of her bottle of bubbles and then used up mine. I thought that perfectly swell, ‘cause a little bit of bubble blowing goes a long way with me. “Oh, look, bubbles! That’s about enough of that.”

I was the same way as a kid. I had a very short fascination span. If the model airplane had more than four parts, I wasn’t gonna finish it. “Okay, this is too complicated. I’m gonna get a stick and go hit stuff.”

Kay couldn’t get enough of blowing bubbles. When she ran out of the liquid, she got on the Internet and found out how to make her own. Something to do with glycerin. Sounded dangerous to me.

So, Kay made a barrel of the stuff. She was bubbling up the whole neighborhood. I thought it sweet. But, then she brought a quart-sized bottle of solution inside and started blowing bubbles in the living room… while I’m trying to watch a football game. She’s sitting there in the recliner making the place look like Lawrence Welk’s honeymoon night. A scene I don’t care to think about.

I first just said, “Wow, I never thought of doing that in here.” She said, “Well, it is very calming.” I had no idea.

The bubbles kept coming. They were the small ones. Billions of small bubbles drifting in front of the TV screen an all around the periphery.

I don’t know how long I let the bubble blowing go on. Seemed like an hour or two. I kept thinking she would tire. She didn’t. I hated to stop her, ‘cause she said it was calming. I like a calm Kay. I sure need to be more calm, but bubbles have no affect on me. Just the opposite.

Any minute now, she’s gonna stop. I can wait this thing out. I even threw out a hint. I said, “I wonder if when a bubble pops it leaves a stain on the furniture.” Kay said, “I don’t think so.” More bubbles.

Don’t say anything. Don’t say anything, I kept telling me. In the middle of one of my warnings, I heard somebody say, “Uh, Darling, that’s really annoying.” I have no idea where it came from. Sounded like my dad’s voice, but it couldn’t have been.

Without a word… no words, Kay got up and left the room. I had no idea what point she was trying to make. I would’ve asked, but I’ve learned never to ask if you think the answer might be lead to controversy.

After the game (we won, by the way), I found Kay reading her book, and I gave her a big ol’ kiss. It might’ve helped. I don’t know. Sometimes it’s hard to read people. Even your spouse. But, not my dad. I’m pretty sure that was him surfacing with “That’s really annoying.” Yep, I’ve heard that a few times. Never over bubbles, though. Dad tired of a lot of things we did, but we never played with bubbles long enough to get yelled at. Just didn’t.


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