It’s Harmony Week!
harmonic intervals – the distance between notes played (or sung) together
Wesley opened his diary and began to doodle. “Group Couples Therapy” were the oxymoronic words his wife Sara wrote on Page 1 of the leather journal she gave him for their ninth anniversary. “For taking notes during sessions,” she said.
The traditional ninth anniversary gifts are pottery and willow. Willow! What the hell was he supposed to do for willow? The modern gift is leather. Now, this was the kind of gift he could get into. More accurately, it was the kind of gift he wanted to get Sarah into.
But Sarah’s sister Kathy suggested taking Wesley shopping for pottery. Kathy would never volunteer to spend time with him. He knew Sarah had put her up to it, which meant it had to be done. For hours and hours Wesley listened to Kathy delight in color schemes and scale, how crap would “really tie the room together”, and finding something that would make the mantle “pop”. He wished her head would pop. He hated every minute of it. HATED! But he did it.
How could Sarah have screwed up leather? It’s leather!!! he thought. I get a diary and counseling? He looked around the room. The wives held masks over their faces – cardboard cutouts representing their moods for the day. Sarah held a red mask stamped “determined”. This is a gift?
The group’s Doctor encouraged journaling privacy. “Never, never, never ask to see your partner’s journal. It is, after all, a part of their spirit. Allow them to present their soul to you.”
Wesley had no intention of presenting today’s portion of his soul – sketches of the group. :
Jumpy Janet had a kangaroo body. She carried her husband Mush-Mouth (whose caricature greatly resembled Boomhauer from King of the Hill) in her pouch.
Brillo-Head scoured his wife Vikki’s cauldron with his head. She stood over him yelling, “Faster, you nit!”
Jazzy-June and Groovy-Gus sat at a Schroeder-sized piano, playing harmonic intervals . . . with their armpit hair.
He didn’t have anything drawn for Dan and Libby. Dan’s alright, he thought. Sarah and Libby get along. We should go get something to eat after we’re all through getting therapized. Pizza! And beer. I could really use a beer . . .
“Wesley? How do you feel about what Sarah just said?” Pointy-Nose Nellie asked. Doctor Pointy-Nose.
What fresh hell is this? he wondered. His face burned. He felt he was fifteen again, in fifth period Latin, and Ms. Kopensky had asked him to conjugate a verb. (Terreo, terrere, terrui, territus – to frighten.)
– Anita, Noted in Nashville