Cupid, Who's Your Daddy?

I just read online (where everything you read is true) that Cupid, that little fat-bottomed god of love, was the son of Venus and either Mercury or Mars. So, let me get this straight: Cupid's paternity is in doubt?  

I'm sure Venus had a good explanation - if being the goddess of love, sex, desire, and fertility weren't enough. And I'm certain she had not done the toga tussle with Mercury and Mars in such close succession that there was that much confusion over which one fathered Cupid - had she? 

Maybe the article meant the father was Mercury or Mars but exactly which is a detail lost to time. Or maybe it's a Greek versus Roman mythology mix-up?  But looking at it that way isn't nearly as fun, and frankly, I'm too lazy to google it. 

But it did start me thinking: What would conversations between Cupid and Venus have been like once Cupid started asking questions. So, imagine with me if you will . . .

. . . a lovely day in sunny Rome. Venus has descended from on high to winter with Cupid in the timeshare she owns with Mars. She summers with Cupid in the timeshare she owns with Mercury. Today mother and son are riding a float in a festival where adoring crowds toss them flowers.

Cupid, now 40 in mortal years, is an adult version of the plump cherub he once was, meaning pudgy, baby-faced, spoiled, and prone to tantrums. Atop his fattish head rests an unruly mop of graying curls. He leans toward his mother and speaks, teeth clenched in an artificial smile for the benefit of the crowds. 

"Mummy, I ask you again: Is my father Mercury or Mars?"

"Oh, darling, and I tell you again, it doesn't matter." Venus waves the cup-handed wave of a Disney Princess. "You spend plenty of time with each of them, both help support you financially, and neither one complains . . . much. Really, I don't know what the problem is.

"The problem, Mummy, is that I don't like it."

"Cupid, I am trying to be patient, really I am. But honestly, two strong, handsome, generous benefactors who, with me, provide you a fabulous lifestyle with two luxury timeshares; what's not to like?"

"Well for starters," Cupid replies, "I don't like having to call them Uncle Daddy."

Venus sighs. "Cupid, as you know, that was my idea, and I think it's the perfect compromise."

More waves, more smiles, more clenched teeth. 

"The only compromise, Mummy, is my peace of mind. And besides, neither of them likes me."

"Cupid, how could you possibly even think that?"

"Because they've each tried to kill me, that's why. Last week they took me hunting, the two of them, which believe you me, I found suspicious from the get-go. Then Uncle Daddy Mercury tricked me into walking into a clearing alone where Uncle Daddy Mars shot me with an arrow - and not one of my love arrows, if you get my drift!" 

"Oh, that's just silly, darling. "Mars said he mistook you for a deer, and I believe him."

"What he said, Mummy, was that he took me for a buffalo, which, by the way, wasn't very nice. He's always poking me about my weight."

"Cupid, sweetheart, you really must stop taking every innocent little comment as a remark about your size. You look grand, darling; you really do."

"Grand, Mummy? Really?"

Venus finally snaps. "I meant grand as in wonderful, not grand as in large, Cupid!"

The crowds are still pitching flowers, and whenever one lands in Venus' lap, she lifts it to her nose and inhales dramatically. Suddenly someone pitches the contents of a bucketful of flowers straight at Venus. They smack her in the face and tangle in her hair. Seconds later, more flowers come flying at Cupid, also hitting home. Venus and Cupid look to see that the first load was pitched by Mercury and the second by Mars, both of whom are glowering at them from the crowd.

Sputtering and picking petals off her tongue, Venus confides to her son, "Cupid, darling, Mummy might need to unload those timeshares."

  

Time Damagement

Someone once said, "When you're early, nobody notices. When you're late, everybody notices." For years, everybody noticed me. 

Time Damagement
Copyright, Teece Aronin

I had a terribly hard time getting where I needed to be especially if that "where" was work and the time was anything prior to noon. Now I have a unique system of time management that works like this:

The first thing I do every morning after shutting off the alarm is pour myself a cup of coffee. Then I sip the coffee as I'm going about my morning routine. Brush my teeth, take a sip of coffee. Put on make-up, take a sip of coffee. Chew out a kid, take a sip of coffee.

As long as any coffee remains in the cup, I'm still on time. The concept is similar to that of an hour-glass; the lower the coffee level, the sooner I have to leave for work.

This system has the side benefit of reassuring me every time I think I might need to step it up a little. I just peek into my cup and if there's coffee, all is well. If I need a little more time, I just sip more slowly and a little less often.

Another way to finesse this system is to use a jumbo mug instead of a cup. Say the alarm didn't go off; by filling an over-sized mug with coffee, I've automatically added time, just as if I'd poured more sand into the hour glass; perfect in its simplicity.

Upon my arrival at work, the system automatically adjusts to work in reverse. The more coffee I consume and the faster I consume it, the faster the day flies until before I know it, I'm home in the bosom of my family with enough residual buzz to throw dinner on the table in under 10 minutes. With a little too much residual buzz, I sometimes throw the dinner and miss the table, but messy mishaps are what children and dogs are for.

I had such faith in this system that I decided to toss it out to my friends to see what they thought. So one day on Face Book I posed the question: "In the morning, if there's still coffee in my cup, does it not follow that I'm not yet late?"

After some very tight competition for the title of Most Obnoxious Commenter, the award went to my friend, Prickly Pete who wrote: "Yes, it does not follow."

I'd like to see Prickly manage his morning routine using nothing but coffee.

Life sure is a lot easier with my caffeinated time management system. The only downfall as far as I can tell is that the earlier I run in the mornings, the shakier my hands get. That having been said, my self-esteem is much higher now; so much so that I'm considering becoming a consultant and marketing my system to physicians. 

And maybe I can barter out a deal with one of them: my consulting services for free treatment of my hand tremor.