Another brilliant gem that I stumbled upon. :-)
Sunday, November 25, 2007
Saturday, November 24, 2007
*Sigh* I've Been Tagged
Since Ellen decided to irritate tag me, I'm now supposed to come up with seven random new things about me.
Okay...
1. The best pizza I ever ate was Pagliai's in Cape Giradeau, Missouri. Still makes my mouth water 30 years later.
2. I accidentally clocked my Astronomy professor in the chin with a telescope when I was a freshman. Yes, I drew blood but, thankfully, not an "F".
3. I once attended a Christian Bible Study group while in college in Springfield, Missouri. Springfield. MISSOURI. Home of John "cover those justice statues' naked pillows of sin!" Ashcroft. I'm proud to have emerged with my Judaism well planted and firmly intact.
4. If I had to do it over again, I'd pursue one of the earth sciences as a vocation (astronomy, geology, meteorology -- verra cool stuff).
5. I learned that if I want to chase a tornado, I'd better not do it with my BFF in the car screaming "WE HAVE TO GET OUT OF HERE! WE HAVE TO GET OUT OF HERE! GO! GO! GO, DAMMIT!"
6. I threw pennies into the foundation of my new condo, because a friend said it would bring me good luck. Liar.
7. I just ran to the bank to deposit $20 in my sister's account so her itty-bitty husband could gas up the pick-up and deliver firewood. Parasites.
Ellen: Happy, dear?
Okay...
1. The best pizza I ever ate was Pagliai's in Cape Giradeau, Missouri. Still makes my mouth water 30 years later.
2. I accidentally clocked my Astronomy professor in the chin with a telescope when I was a freshman. Yes, I drew blood but, thankfully, not an "F".
3. I once attended a Christian Bible Study group while in college in Springfield, Missouri. Springfield. MISSOURI. Home of John "cover those justice statues' naked pillows of sin!" Ashcroft. I'm proud to have emerged with my Judaism well planted and firmly intact.
4. If I had to do it over again, I'd pursue one of the earth sciences as a vocation (astronomy, geology, meteorology -- verra cool stuff).
5. I learned that if I want to chase a tornado, I'd better not do it with my BFF in the car screaming "WE HAVE TO GET OUT OF HERE! WE HAVE TO GET OUT OF HERE! GO! GO! GO, DAMMIT!"
6. I threw pennies into the foundation of my new condo, because a friend said it would bring me good luck. Liar.
7. I just ran to the bank to deposit $20 in my sister's account so her itty-bitty husband could gas up the pick-up and deliver firewood. Parasites.
Ellen: Happy, dear?
Thursday, November 22, 2007
From the Archives: Thanksgiving 2003
Preface: My sister-in-law sent an email out to all family members with pictures of her daughter's (my gorgeous niece's) Halloween. My bi-polar, hard of hearing sister, 'Joni' in her unfortunate "Reply To All", waxed effusive about our niece, using far more exclamation points than is natural for a 46-year-old woman.
She said that she and her bull-riding wanna-be, flatulent pygmy of a husband would be in town between Christmas and New Years and would like to see our niece. She went on to say she knows it will be "hard when 'Mike' and Marcia don't particularly want to be around eremy-jay."
Of course, this little gem isn't news to the family; it's just interesting that sis doesn't seem to get that the lack of desire to be around eremy-jay isn't limited to only my brother and me.
Nonetheless, I wonder if my bro 'Mike' knows this was emailed to EVERYONE. It will be interesting (if not uncomfortable), because he does so enjoy finding something over which to become enraged at my sister. A written confirmation of what has already been expressed in whispers or through body language (or in the case of my brother, right to her face) should not be a big deal, but it has the potential for manufactured outrage if there's the slightest embarrassment at the "Reply To All" faux pas.
Regardless, I would lay odds many of my family members have seen her name in the "From" and hit Delete without bothering to read it. Then again, it's so easy to rubberneck a serious car wreck.
Note: I recognize the tenses in the following are all over the road, but what do you expect from a post-dysfunctional Thanksgiving maundering? Also note, this is pre-eremy-jay and the names have been changed to protect both the sane and the insane.
And now, from the Dysfunctional Family Holiday Archives, I bring you Thanksgiving 2003.
*******************
My God. Where do I begin?
Let's start with the bi-polar sister. After spending $340 (of my money) to get her car fixed and inspected and get her license tags renewed, Joni tooled her way up I-44 to spend Wednesday evening at my brother's house. My brother's plan was to go to his mother-in-law's farm up north and spend the day with her family, and my sister was to tag along. They were to join us at my uncle's house later that evening for dessert.
Wednesday night I got a phone call from my sister's ex-sister-in-law, 'Sharon', a holy roller from Branson Missouri, the biggest and glitziest hole in the buckle of the Bible Belt. Seeing who it was on the Caller ID, I let it roll over to voice mail -- I reeeeeaaallly didn't want to speak to her. Our last conversation regarding my sister (and the $305 Sharon was going grace my sister with to help her pay November's rent) was unpleasant, as she decided that my brother and I needed to step up and take some responsibility for Joni. The conversation was peppered with the occasional "Praise Jesus", "Praise God", or "All the Glory Goes to Jesus". (Needless to say, that wasn't coming from me.)
Mind you, for 20 years we have been “stepping up” for Joni and helping her through her marriage to Sharon's alcoholic/drug abuser/compulsive gambler brother Stuart, as well as her three hospitalizations for mania, her divorce from the aforementioned loser, and the loser's subsequent suicide.
Anyhoo... Holy Roller Sharon's message asked that I have Joni give her a call as soon as possible. Well, thinking the call had something to do with their aunt who has cancer, I passed the message on to Joni. Turns out Sharon is angry with Joni for writing a letter to their incarcerated cousin, Marv, who was doing time for having a methamphetamine lab. The contents of the letter, meant for Marv's eyes only, detailed the aftermath of the deadbeat ex-husband's funeral wherein my sister explained that she had paid for the coffin, burial and tent revival-like services with the proceeds of a life insurance benefit, and Stuart's brother (bitter, gay, alcoholic, and desperately in need of a life) had tried to sue Joni for the other expenses (flowers, tombstone, ambulance bill, repairs on the car Stuart used to kill himself with, blah blah).
Marv's wife, Sandy (bi-polar, too, by happy coincidence, and for good measure, a holy roller), receives all of Marv's mail. She read the letter and apparently felt it was her Christian duty to report the contents to our favorite Harpy for Jesus, Sharon. Sharon's resultant message on Joni's voice mail was "You'd better get your act together if you want to meet Jesus". My question was why? Was he appearing with The Osmonds in Branson for the holidays or something?
'Kay. Back to Thursday. Things were going very well at my uncle's house. I hadn't seen him in several years (even though we only live about 2 miles from each other), but I met his new companion, Susan, a published writer and poet. We had some good discussions and I liked her. Also my cousin and his daughter were there, along with eight other people who were complete strangers to me. Still, we had pleasant conversations as we introduced who we were and what we did, etc. Good people. It was refreshing to sit around the table with a bunch of people who said "Oy!" a lot. It was a very lovely evening.
This was BS (Before Siblings).
**Cue Wagner's "Ride of the Valkyries"**
Around 8:30, we hear a knock on the door. Enter the siblings and one sibling-in-law.
I'd somewhat prepared my uncle and cousin ahead of time, telling them that Joni was... animated. They are aware that she is mentally ill, but it's been a while since they'd seen her. I'm sure it was quite an eye-opener.
The siblings settled themselves at the table, and I could tell my brother was not happy. His eyes basically told me, "I'm pissed and I'm about to blow." His eyes also said, "I've been dealing with this all damned day long and you're going to be in for a treat."
Joni plopped herself down at the table and loudly began to share. I'm talking SHAAAARE. She discussed the new "boy" in her life (whom she'd met the weekend before). He is an unemployed bi-polar who lives in Branson and nine years her junior. Not that there's anything wrong with the age difference, but she's already picking out her china pattern. Yes, Kyle is bi-polar, too, but he's on the depressive side, so they "balance each other out!" she proclaimed excitedly. They'd spoken for hours and hours when she was visiting her ready-to-be-raptured ex-in-laws in Branson. According to Joni's dissertation, Kyle doesn't believe in pre-marital sex. But if they're to be intimate, he's going to leave that up to Joni. Isn't that sweet?
No doubt my cousin John, whose 14-year-old daughter was seated nearby, thought it was sweet too.
Joni did manage to get around (in her Bette-Davis-Whatever-Happened-To-Baby-Jane style) to find out who everyone was. "And who is THIS lovely lady over here?"
In the midst of polishing off an entire bottle of sparkling cider all by herself, she shared a poem (inspired by Alfred Joyce Kilmer) to which my brother whispered beneath his breath, "Oh, Jesus." She recited it with all the poetic accoutrements, including iambic pentameter, pregnant pauses, and quiet reflection.
For your edification:
The Tree
When I grow up, I'd like to be
As strong and pretty as a tree
When I reach up to the sun
I'll know my day has just begun
The birds will all nest in my hair
There'll be white droppings, but I won't care
The wind will try to blow me down
My feet will stand to the ground
And when the Fall is finally here
I'll display bright colors from ear to ear
So now you see how it would be
If I could only be a tree
Copyright ©2003 Joni (just in case you’re thinking of swiping it!)
Her poem was acknowledged with indulgent and charitable praise, as I thought it would be, by the saner people seated at the dining room table. In the meantime, the heat of embarrassment wafting off my brother was actually bending light.
It was some time around this point that Joni whispered to me, asking if she could spend the night at my house since she couldn't spend another "f*cking" night at my brother's. I said okay.
She proceeded then to ask my uncle if he knew someone our father went to school with: Bob Kaplansky. My uncle said that he was four years younger than our dad, so he didn't really know many of his friends. Joni proceeded to tell him (loudly) that Bob had been witnessed to and was now a Christian. "And his grandfather was an Orthodox Rabbi!" Of course, Joni (in an earlier phase of mania while she lived in Florida a few years ago) was baptized a Christian. The assembled group of Jews nodded sagely and patiently endured the onslaught.
It was then that I mentioned to Mike that Joni would be spending the night with me. He said "Thank God!" and "You are my savior!" and "I was about to cave her head in." He also mentioned that he was done with her. Seriously. He didn't want anything to do with her again. Ever. He meant it. I nodded and said "okay".
By around 9:30, I was developing a serious tension headache. Imagine that. So I decided it was time to go. 'Course Mike had to go then, too, because Joni had to get her stuff out of his house. We said our good-byes to everyone. I thanked them for the lovely meal and the nice company, said good-bye to my uncle who walked me outside. He never said anything about Joni and neither did I.
As my brother and I walked down the driveway to our cars, he decreed that Joni was not allowed in his house. He wanted the key she had to his house. I was to go in and get her belongings. I said, "Fine." We got in our cars and I followed them home.
On the way to his house, I informed Joni of Mike's decision. She asked "Is this going to be like the time he didn't talk to me for years?" I said, "It looks like it." I also told her he wanted his house key back, and she removed it from her key ring and gave it to me.
We arrived at my brother's house and waited for him and his wife to get there. It was a little odd that they weren't already there, because they'd left ahead of us. In the meantime, I spoke with Joni about our brother and how he behaves and explained that much of the subject matter she discussed was inappropriate, as she didn't know any of these people and it embarrassed Mike. And me.
Eventually, the minivan pulled into the driveway, and I got out of the car. Debra (Mike's wife) got out and I saw that Mike was not in the car. I walked up to the car and Debra said, "I'm sorry, Marcia, but your brother is a pr*ck."
I sighed resignedly, "I know."
Debra said they had some words in the car on the way home. Mike had been in a bad mood all day, and he behaved badly at her mother's house, insulting Joni, calling her choice names that even the most crass among us would consider rude, and dismissing others' entreaties for him to "be nice." Somewhere along the main drag home, my brother declared he was going to walk home, so he got out of the van at a stoplight. This was why it took so long for Debra to arrive as she couldn't talk him back into the van.
I followed Debra into the house where we talked a bit while Joni waited in the car. I gathered all of Joni's belongings and apologized (not for my brother's behavior, but because of the entire situation). We hugged after I gathered everything and said our good-byes. Debra then asked if I would mind seeing if I could find Mike and bring him home. I said I'd try. Joni packed up her car with her stuff and we left.
I drove down the main drag a bit, turned around and found Mike on the shoulder of the eight-lane freeway. He was just standing there. I shuddered as I had a flashback to the time when this man was nine-years-old and laid down in the middle of Women’s Coats at a local department store and proceeded to have a temper tantrum. I shook it off and pulled over. He remained standing there, then eventually walked over to my car. I rolled down the window and said matter-of-factly (because this happens all the time, you know), "Get in."
He said, "uh-uh."
I said, "How come?"
He said, "Where's my wife?"
I said, "I don't think she knows how to get you to get in the car. I don't think she'll be able to say anything that you'll find acceptable for you to get in the car."
"She should have been the one to come and get me."
"She asked me to."
He didn't say anything.
I said, "Do you want a ride or not?"
Knowing I would leave him on the side of the road - much like I did in the department store when he was nine - he got in.
"Did Joni get her stuff?"
"Yes."
"Did she leave my key?"
"Yes. I gave it to Debra."
"I'm done with her."
"I know."
I then dropped him off in his driveway with a "See ya." As I pulled away, I noted that he did not go in the house, he got in his car. Whether he stayed in his driveway or went for a drive, I don't know.
When I got home, Joni was waiting for me. She took my dog out for a walk, and I called Debra to let her know I found Mike and the last I saw him was in the driveway. We talked a little bit more, and I told her that I loved her and appreciated her. That was pretty much it with my brother for the weekend, although later I heard he'd spent the night in a motel room.
Meanwhile, Joni came in from walking my dog and took her pills. In due course, they worked their blessed chemical magic and had her pretty much unconscious. Thank you, God, Eli Lilly and Roche Pharmaceuticals. Me? I took two Excedrin at 3:19 a.m. as the tension headache had grown exponentially, threatening to make me violently ill.
The next day, she awoke. She insisted I help to enter her poem in an online poetry site she’d found in the back of the TV Guide. She generously promised to share the prize money with me. Gee, I hope we win.
After fortifying myself with more than the prescribed dosage of Excedrin, Joni and I went shopping at Walmart - my brother had promised to buy some things for her, but obviously, that ship sank in the harbor. So I ended up buying her some things she needed and some things she didn't. I also bought her a new pair of shoes. I gave her $20 for gas, so she could get home.
We'd planned to have dinner together that night, but somewhere along the way, she'd made other plans for dinner with a friend. I didn't object. She realized what she'd done and praised me for being sooooo understanding about stuff like that. In reality, I was deliriously happy to rid myself of her presence that much sooner. She would be spending the weekend with her non-Holy Roller, ex-in-laws.
When we arrived back at my place, Joni packed up her stuff including her "Power" Rider that was collecting dust in my basement and we hugged and she went to have dinner with her friend. I was free. Praise Jesus.
The night before Thanksgiving, I had gone to my first NAMI (National Alliance for the Mentally Ill) family support meeting. While it was very timely and informative, I was told to "embrace chaos." Oh, I embraced it, all right. I think I pulled something.
In conclusion, I don't remember my first family Thanksgiving, but I do remember my LAST - November 27, 2003. I'm done.
THE END
**********
Thanksgiving 2007
Yeah... Good times.
I suppose I should never say "never", because today I'm going to a family Thanksgiving at my bro's house sans the bi-polar sister and her gas-passing, miniature cowpoke. The family dynamic has changed with the addition of my niece, so I'm hoping for blessed boredom and quiet, apart from the peals of laughter from my little sweetheart's mouth as she and her Aunt Marcia play.
She said that she and her bull-riding wanna-be, flatulent pygmy of a husband would be in town between Christmas and New Years and would like to see our niece. She went on to say she knows it will be "hard when 'Mike' and Marcia don't particularly want to be around eremy-jay."
Of course, this little gem isn't news to the family; it's just interesting that sis doesn't seem to get that the lack of desire to be around eremy-jay isn't limited to only my brother and me.
Nonetheless, I wonder if my bro 'Mike' knows this was emailed to EVERYONE. It will be interesting (if not uncomfortable), because he does so enjoy finding something over which to become enraged at my sister. A written confirmation of what has already been expressed in whispers or through body language (or in the case of my brother, right to her face) should not be a big deal, but it has the potential for manufactured outrage if there's the slightest embarrassment at the "Reply To All" faux pas.
Regardless, I would lay odds many of my family members have seen her name in the "From" and hit Delete without bothering to read it. Then again, it's so easy to rubberneck a serious car wreck.
Note: I recognize the tenses in the following are all over the road, but what do you expect from a post-dysfunctional Thanksgiving maundering? Also note, this is pre-eremy-jay and the names have been changed to protect both the sane and the insane.
And now, from the Dysfunctional Family Holiday Archives, I bring you Thanksgiving 2003.
*******************
My God. Where do I begin?
Let's start with the bi-polar sister. After spending $340 (of my money) to get her car fixed and inspected and get her license tags renewed, Joni tooled her way up I-44 to spend Wednesday evening at my brother's house. My brother's plan was to go to his mother-in-law's farm up north and spend the day with her family, and my sister was to tag along. They were to join us at my uncle's house later that evening for dessert.
Wednesday night I got a phone call from my sister's ex-sister-in-law, 'Sharon', a holy roller from Branson Missouri, the biggest and glitziest hole in the buckle of the Bible Belt. Seeing who it was on the Caller ID, I let it roll over to voice mail -- I reeeeeaaallly didn't want to speak to her. Our last conversation regarding my sister (and the $305 Sharon was going grace my sister with to help her pay November's rent) was unpleasant, as she decided that my brother and I needed to step up and take some responsibility for Joni. The conversation was peppered with the occasional "Praise Jesus", "Praise God", or "All the Glory Goes to Jesus". (Needless to say, that wasn't coming from me.)
Mind you, for 20 years we have been “stepping up” for Joni and helping her through her marriage to Sharon's alcoholic/drug abuser/compulsive gambler brother Stuart, as well as her three hospitalizations for mania, her divorce from the aforementioned loser, and the loser's subsequent suicide.
Anyhoo... Holy Roller Sharon's message asked that I have Joni give her a call as soon as possible. Well, thinking the call had something to do with their aunt who has cancer, I passed the message on to Joni. Turns out Sharon is angry with Joni for writing a letter to their incarcerated cousin, Marv, who was doing time for having a methamphetamine lab. The contents of the letter, meant for Marv's eyes only, detailed the aftermath of the deadbeat ex-husband's funeral wherein my sister explained that she had paid for the coffin, burial and tent revival-like services with the proceeds of a life insurance benefit, and Stuart's brother (bitter, gay, alcoholic, and desperately in need of a life) had tried to sue Joni for the other expenses (flowers, tombstone, ambulance bill, repairs on the car Stuart used to kill himself with, blah blah).
Marv's wife, Sandy (bi-polar, too, by happy coincidence, and for good measure, a holy roller), receives all of Marv's mail. She read the letter and apparently felt it was her Christian duty to report the contents to our favorite Harpy for Jesus, Sharon. Sharon's resultant message on Joni's voice mail was "You'd better get your act together if you want to meet Jesus". My question was why? Was he appearing with The Osmonds in Branson for the holidays or something?
'Kay. Back to Thursday. Things were going very well at my uncle's house. I hadn't seen him in several years (even though we only live about 2 miles from each other), but I met his new companion, Susan, a published writer and poet. We had some good discussions and I liked her. Also my cousin and his daughter were there, along with eight other people who were complete strangers to me. Still, we had pleasant conversations as we introduced who we were and what we did, etc. Good people. It was refreshing to sit around the table with a bunch of people who said "Oy!" a lot. It was a very lovely evening.
This was BS (Before Siblings).
**Cue Wagner's "Ride of the Valkyries"**
Around 8:30, we hear a knock on the door. Enter the siblings and one sibling-in-law.
I'd somewhat prepared my uncle and cousin ahead of time, telling them that Joni was... animated. They are aware that she is mentally ill, but it's been a while since they'd seen her. I'm sure it was quite an eye-opener.
The siblings settled themselves at the table, and I could tell my brother was not happy. His eyes basically told me, "I'm pissed and I'm about to blow." His eyes also said, "I've been dealing with this all damned day long and you're going to be in for a treat."
Joni plopped herself down at the table and loudly began to share. I'm talking SHAAAARE. She discussed the new "boy" in her life (whom she'd met the weekend before). He is an unemployed bi-polar who lives in Branson and nine years her junior. Not that there's anything wrong with the age difference, but she's already picking out her china pattern. Yes, Kyle is bi-polar, too, but he's on the depressive side, so they "balance each other out!" she proclaimed excitedly. They'd spoken for hours and hours when she was visiting her ready-to-be-raptured ex-in-laws in Branson. According to Joni's dissertation, Kyle doesn't believe in pre-marital sex. But if they're to be intimate, he's going to leave that up to Joni. Isn't that sweet?
No doubt my cousin John, whose 14-year-old daughter was seated nearby, thought it was sweet too.
Joni did manage to get around (in her Bette-Davis-Whatever-Happened-To-Baby-Jane style) to find out who everyone was. "And who is THIS lovely lady over here?"
In the midst of polishing off an entire bottle of sparkling cider all by herself, she shared a poem (inspired by Alfred Joyce Kilmer) to which my brother whispered beneath his breath, "Oh, Jesus." She recited it with all the poetic accoutrements, including iambic pentameter, pregnant pauses, and quiet reflection.
For your edification:
The Tree
When I grow up, I'd like to be
As strong and pretty as a tree
When I reach up to the sun
I'll know my day has just begun
The birds will all nest in my hair
There'll be white droppings, but I won't care
The wind will try to blow me down
My feet will stand to the ground
And when the Fall is finally here
I'll display bright colors from ear to ear
So now you see how it would be
If I could only be a tree
Copyright ©2003 Joni (just in case you’re thinking of swiping it!)
Her poem was acknowledged with indulgent and charitable praise, as I thought it would be, by the saner people seated at the dining room table. In the meantime, the heat of embarrassment wafting off my brother was actually bending light.
It was some time around this point that Joni whispered to me, asking if she could spend the night at my house since she couldn't spend another "f*cking" night at my brother's. I said okay.
She proceeded then to ask my uncle if he knew someone our father went to school with: Bob Kaplansky. My uncle said that he was four years younger than our dad, so he didn't really know many of his friends. Joni proceeded to tell him (loudly) that Bob had been witnessed to and was now a Christian. "And his grandfather was an Orthodox Rabbi!" Of course, Joni (in an earlier phase of mania while she lived in Florida a few years ago) was baptized a Christian. The assembled group of Jews nodded sagely and patiently endured the onslaught.
It was then that I mentioned to Mike that Joni would be spending the night with me. He said "Thank God!" and "You are my savior!" and "I was about to cave her head in." He also mentioned that he was done with her. Seriously. He didn't want anything to do with her again. Ever. He meant it. I nodded and said "okay".
By around 9:30, I was developing a serious tension headache. Imagine that. So I decided it was time to go. 'Course Mike had to go then, too, because Joni had to get her stuff out of his house. We said our good-byes to everyone. I thanked them for the lovely meal and the nice company, said good-bye to my uncle who walked me outside. He never said anything about Joni and neither did I.
As my brother and I walked down the driveway to our cars, he decreed that Joni was not allowed in his house. He wanted the key she had to his house. I was to go in and get her belongings. I said, "Fine." We got in our cars and I followed them home.
On the way to his house, I informed Joni of Mike's decision. She asked "Is this going to be like the time he didn't talk to me for years?" I said, "It looks like it." I also told her he wanted his house key back, and she removed it from her key ring and gave it to me.
We arrived at my brother's house and waited for him and his wife to get there. It was a little odd that they weren't already there, because they'd left ahead of us. In the meantime, I spoke with Joni about our brother and how he behaves and explained that much of the subject matter she discussed was inappropriate, as she didn't know any of these people and it embarrassed Mike. And me.
Eventually, the minivan pulled into the driveway, and I got out of the car. Debra (Mike's wife) got out and I saw that Mike was not in the car. I walked up to the car and Debra said, "I'm sorry, Marcia, but your brother is a pr*ck."
I sighed resignedly, "I know."
Debra said they had some words in the car on the way home. Mike had been in a bad mood all day, and he behaved badly at her mother's house, insulting Joni, calling her choice names that even the most crass among us would consider rude, and dismissing others' entreaties for him to "be nice." Somewhere along the main drag home, my brother declared he was going to walk home, so he got out of the van at a stoplight. This was why it took so long for Debra to arrive as she couldn't talk him back into the van.
I followed Debra into the house where we talked a bit while Joni waited in the car. I gathered all of Joni's belongings and apologized (not for my brother's behavior, but because of the entire situation). We hugged after I gathered everything and said our good-byes. Debra then asked if I would mind seeing if I could find Mike and bring him home. I said I'd try. Joni packed up her car with her stuff and we left.
I drove down the main drag a bit, turned around and found Mike on the shoulder of the eight-lane freeway. He was just standing there. I shuddered as I had a flashback to the time when this man was nine-years-old and laid down in the middle of Women’s Coats at a local department store and proceeded to have a temper tantrum. I shook it off and pulled over. He remained standing there, then eventually walked over to my car. I rolled down the window and said matter-of-factly (because this happens all the time, you know), "Get in."
He said, "uh-uh."
I said, "How come?"
He said, "Where's my wife?"
I said, "I don't think she knows how to get you to get in the car. I don't think she'll be able to say anything that you'll find acceptable for you to get in the car."
"She should have been the one to come and get me."
"She asked me to."
He didn't say anything.
I said, "Do you want a ride or not?"
Knowing I would leave him on the side of the road - much like I did in the department store when he was nine - he got in.
"Did Joni get her stuff?"
"Yes."
"Did she leave my key?"
"Yes. I gave it to Debra."
"I'm done with her."
"I know."
I then dropped him off in his driveway with a "See ya." As I pulled away, I noted that he did not go in the house, he got in his car. Whether he stayed in his driveway or went for a drive, I don't know.
When I got home, Joni was waiting for me. She took my dog out for a walk, and I called Debra to let her know I found Mike and the last I saw him was in the driveway. We talked a little bit more, and I told her that I loved her and appreciated her. That was pretty much it with my brother for the weekend, although later I heard he'd spent the night in a motel room.
Meanwhile, Joni came in from walking my dog and took her pills. In due course, they worked their blessed chemical magic and had her pretty much unconscious. Thank you, God, Eli Lilly and Roche Pharmaceuticals. Me? I took two Excedrin at 3:19 a.m. as the tension headache had grown exponentially, threatening to make me violently ill.
The next day, she awoke. She insisted I help to enter her poem in an online poetry site she’d found in the back of the TV Guide. She generously promised to share the prize money with me. Gee, I hope we win.
After fortifying myself with more than the prescribed dosage of Excedrin, Joni and I went shopping at Walmart - my brother had promised to buy some things for her, but obviously, that ship sank in the harbor. So I ended up buying her some things she needed and some things she didn't. I also bought her a new pair of shoes. I gave her $20 for gas, so she could get home.
We'd planned to have dinner together that night, but somewhere along the way, she'd made other plans for dinner with a friend. I didn't object. She realized what she'd done and praised me for being sooooo understanding about stuff like that. In reality, I was deliriously happy to rid myself of her presence that much sooner. She would be spending the weekend with her non-Holy Roller, ex-in-laws.
When we arrived back at my place, Joni packed up her stuff including her "Power" Rider that was collecting dust in my basement and we hugged and she went to have dinner with her friend. I was free. Praise Jesus.
The night before Thanksgiving, I had gone to my first NAMI (National Alliance for the Mentally Ill) family support meeting. While it was very timely and informative, I was told to "embrace chaos." Oh, I embraced it, all right. I think I pulled something.
In conclusion, I don't remember my first family Thanksgiving, but I do remember my LAST - November 27, 2003. I'm done.
THE END
**********
Thanksgiving 2007
Yeah... Good times.
I suppose I should never say "never", because today I'm going to a family Thanksgiving at my bro's house sans the bi-polar sister and her gas-passing, miniature cowpoke. The family dynamic has changed with the addition of my niece, so I'm hoping for blessed boredom and quiet, apart from the peals of laughter from my little sweetheart's mouth as she and her Aunt Marcia play.
Friday, November 02, 2007
My Favorite Candidate
This man knows that the greatest danger to America is NOT Iran, and it's NOT North Korea - it's Pakistan, for the love of God!! Joe is absolutely correct. If anything happens to Musharref and Muslim extremists assume power there - Pakistan not only has a nuclear program, they actually HAVE nuclear WEAPONS. We'd better all pray Musharref stays in power, or we are all fucked.
Joe is also right about this: Guliani's sentences all consist of a noun, a verb and 9-11. I used to like Guiliani when he was real. Now, with presidential power looming in his beady little eyes and neo-con fascist Norman Podhoretz advising him on American imperilism, God help us.
I'm glad Joe's taking swipes at Guliani. And here's another good one:
Joe is also right about this: Guliani's sentences all consist of a noun, a verb and 9-11. I used to like Guiliani when he was real. Now, with presidential power looming in his beady little eyes and neo-con fascist Norman Podhoretz advising him on American imperilism, God help us.
I'm glad Joe's taking swipes at Guliani. And here's another good one:
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