In Coffee Spoons

Erin and I showed this to Mom the other night and said "This makes us think of you."



Since the conversation about the Sarah Palin bumper sticker on Dad's truck, Mom's been singing it and whacking her forehead.

As Kairi pointed out, the longer you put off making your big "This is what's been going on" journal update, the harder it gets. Rambling ho!

School is going...well, it's going. Just a few more weeks left and then I can start worrying about fall semester, which I have to cram a lot of credits into. At least I will no longer be laboring under a flaky teacher whose typos skew the entire course, or a flaky teacher who signs all her correspondence "Peace, love and laughter".

Redoing the outside of the house is pretty much finished. I believe. I hope. I sincerely hope. Looks good. Pics forthcoming.

Went to Mackinac with Mom and Erin, pics also forthcoming. Three guys sitting behind us on the ferry were doing the boat song, so that was stuck in my head all day. We went for the Lilac Festival, but the problem with planning a festival around nature is that nature does not always get the memo. It's been a terrible year for lilacs everywhere. Good times were had anyway. Horses, sunshine, seaside, ice cream, ridiculously expensive gift shops, good times.

Ashley and I both celebrated 25 years without fatal accidents!

( tastypics )

My fancy-ass camera makes me look like a much better photographer than I am sometimes.

Holly and I are planning a kickass party for the 4th and if you're reading this, chances are pretty damn good you're invited. As kickass as this party is going to be (it is going to be kickass), I'm really just excited to be celebrating Independence Day for the first time since I was a kid. I actually feel patriotic. Not ironically or post 9-11 bandwagony, but genuinely thrilled to see an amazing president turning our country around and making it into something to be proud of again. (President Obama, you are so invited to our party.)

Ummmmmmmm um um. That might be it. For now. I've been reading a lot but I'll save that list for its own entry. I have a lot of random pictures to post. And some memes. Later. Woo.

</rambling>

Erin and I hit the Memorial weekend garage sales on Sunday.

I love the things you know you will see every time you go to garage sales. The porcelain and silver stuff that looks old and valuable, but never turns out to be. A blue tarp with rusty old machine parts spread over it. Retro kitchen appliances besides their retro boxes with their white plastic all yellowed. Cardboard boxes full of identical-looking Harlequin romance novels. A little table of things covered in crochet cosies, like tissue boxes and candle holders. The NASCAR beer steins and chipped coffee mugs with witty little gems like "Life's a beach". A sad jumble of crappy toys, about half from the Happy Meals of your childhood.

There were a couple inexplicable finds that day. This would have been fun to dress up, but I don't have room in my closet. This, um. I don't know what the hell this is. Guesses so far have been some kind of dust mop attachment and some kind of homemade bicycle seat cover.

The highlight of the day, though? The Mystery Box.



Me: O.O

Erin: Oh, no.

Me: O.O

Erin: No!

Me: Ooooooooooh!

Erin: You are a rube.

Me: Sir! Sir! I shall take this box!

Two dimes and a nickel later...the box turned out to be empty.

Me: ;_;

Erin: A rube, I say.

The plan is to fill the box with a bunch of random stuff and sneak it into someone else's garage sale on another weekend. I've got a wrench, a Barbie head, a Ramen seasoning packet (chicken), a bent pushpin, some fuzzy purple yarn. Other suggestions are welcome.

And afterwards, Erin took me for watermelon ice cream. How long have I been saying watermelon should be an ice cream flavour? A very. Long. Time.

Best day ever!

In honor of Mother's Day: Memorable quotes/conversations with my mom.

~

Random quotes:

"Jesus wants us to love each other and help each other and not pay too much attention to the rest, because a lot of the Bible is just, y'know, stuff."

"Praise Jesus and pass the prozac."

"The only thing worse than clown sex would be mime sex."

"I'm not voting unless it's for 'neither of the above'. Or Gumby. Gumby is neither of the above."

"I just had an epiphany! Ooh, I just had another one! I'm either having epiphanies or small strokes. Either way, I'm seeing pretty flashes of light."

~

Mom: I'm glad I don't have eye stalks.

Me: What?

Mom: Well, just imagine if your eyes were on stalks like an alien, instead of in your head. I'd be very depressed.

~

Me: We can't have the cake with the wine. Wine doesn't compliment chocolate.

Mom: Yes, it does! *holds up cake and makes it talk in squeaky voice to wine* Hi there! You look great! You're so full-bodied! I love you!

~

Mom: I don't wanna go to work.

Me: Don't go to work.

Mom: They don't pay me unless I do.

Me: We will live on gumdrops and candy canes brought to us by the elves.

Mom: Okay, that's one plan. Does my eye look better? (Mom hurt her eye earlier and it turned all red and disgusting.)

Me: Nope.

Mom: Good. I'll act like it's a symptom of something even worse. I'll take some liver in my purse and pretend to throw it up at the meeting. Can you throw up your own liver?

Me: I don't know of any disease that causes both retinal bruising and vomiting internal organs.

Mom: Darn. Well, I do like gumdrops.

~

Me: This is stupid. I have to write a story where every sentence starts with the next letter of the alphabet.

Mom: Asshole. Bitch. Cunt. Damn. So on, so on. Zachary had Tourette's.

~

Me: Maybe Charlotte would stop whining if we got another cat.

Mom: What? A kitten?

Me: Yeah, a baby for her to play with. Keep her occupied.

Mom: It didn't work for you when I had Erin...

~

Erin: That guy had a cute butt.

Mom: That's not what you're supposed to be paying attention to! Baptists do not...they're not....Baptists don't have butts!

Me: Not your best save, mom.

Erin: Well, what do they sit on, then?

Mom: On Jesus.

~

Me: I read the other day that supposedly life is 10% what happens to you and 90% how you respond to it.

Mom: *looks around* PLBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBT!

~

Had me a fine weekend.

Annie and Ryan were up, and they came over Friday night. We took turns sucking ass at Cooking Mama, went out for pizza, sat on the curb outside Radio Shack and passed around a bag of marshmallows (while talking about how sad it was to be doing that) and then decided Erin was due to get drunk for the first time ever. And she did indeed! It was very adorable.

Erin: *weaving back and forth across room* Hahaha! I thought that whole balance thing was made up!

Annie: Can you hand me that?
Erin: No. Well, I could, but I'm lazy and I've got a drink in my hand.
Megan: See, NOW you're in college.

We were drinking rum and coke, UV Blue, and Jager bombs. Erin found out she likes all three, which I think increases the number of drinks she likes to...three. We got her to do a few shots as well, which she had said she would not do. (I think the shots were of the leftover pomegranate vodka? From when Holly came over?) Annie and I got "where did my pants go" bombed. Ryan killed half a bottle of Jager. On his own. In one drink. And was completely sober within a few hours. Good times. Good times.

P.S. Tattoo Dark Spiced Rum? Yummy yummy.

Saturday Annie and Ryan and I mini-road-tripped it on over to TC. Really, going anywhere from my house is a 2 hour drive. It's the shameless singing along to bad pop music that makes the mini-road-trip difference. We did a bit of aimless meandering in Hocus Pocus, which is really all one does in Hocus Pocus. The guy there did a couple tricks for Annie-- the one with the cups and the ball, the one with the little jewel stick-- and she was delighted, either because she possesses an innocent childlike joy or because she'd accidentally taken two Klonopin. We went to Borders, where I used up something like fifty bucks worth of credit card reward coupons-- got a book on the beginnings of modern surgery, a humongous H.P. Lovecraft collection, and a complete Arthur Rimbaud collection with a hideous blue and orange cover. (I say hideous, but I love it dearly.)

We also went to dinner at at one of those janky strip-mall Chinese buffets with Jake, a friend of Ryan's, and Jake's girlfriend Egg. Egg is not actually named Egg. But I cannot remember her real name. Because she is Egg. The food was awful. Annie and I were sitting together at one end of the table, exchanging pathetic expressions every time we tried something. The fried rice was bad. The fried rice. I'm not even sure how you do that. We were also sitting together at the end of the table ignoring Jake's chatter about dagohir and ignoring Egg. I think Jake's serious interest in dagohir pretty much sums up Jake.

The food was, in fact, so bad that Ryan treated us to ice cream afterwards. Which was awesome, because it was Cold Stone. And which sucked, because somebody fucking tipped.

Sunday I mainly spent going "blaaaaaaaaaaaargh" from an overdose of alcohol and human contact.

Good times. Good times.

Me: Man, I oughta clean this ashtray out one of these days.

Holly: Yeah, it's starting to need it. Some of these look old enough to be from our last party.

Me: Yeah, I think they are.

Erin: WHAT?

Me: Huh?

Erin: You haven't cleaned that ashtray out since NEW YEAR'S?

Me: Uh, no...

Erin: @!$#! I thought you were cleaning it regularly like a normal person! I thought that was like two weeks worth of butts and thought you were in total denial about being addicted! I was WORRIED about you!

Me: Oh! Oh no, no. That's four months worth right there.

Erin: @$#@!#@$@!%!@!%@#%!

Holly: Lulz.

Magical backtracking in time: I had a great birthday. Thank you and <3 <3 <3 to everyone who sent me greetings, even Dap who sent me this what the fuck thank you but what the fuck.

Erin and Mom came for cake (yay) and presents (yay) and Thai food (yay) and shopping (yay).

World's cutest birthday cake.

Kitcheny goodness from my family. Along with a bunch of groceries. So set to cook now. Lot of new recipes I've been wanting to try.

Erin wrangled me a really great DS emulator and downloaded me a bunch of ROMs. I'm failing hardcore at the DS version of Cooking Mama because it requires the mic. Don't stare at me with those flaming fire eyes, Mama! I'm trying my best!

Erin stayed over for a long weekend, which was also great. We watched a ton of movies. A ton. Good movies. Bad movies. Hilariously bad movies. Eraserhead freaked her out more than I was epxecting, but I consider that fair trade for the shit like Felidae and Skywhales that she keeps bringing when she visits.

I just realized how often my celebrations are a blend of cute, fun, and horrific. Awesome.

...had an unfortunate adventure. Consequently, so did Erin.

Live animals brought into the house in the past few weeks:

1 snake (Caught by Charlotte, released by yours truly)

1 bird (Caught by Malingo, released by Erin)

1 mouse (Caught by Sweeney, escaped into house, CURRENT WHEREABOUTS UNKNOWN)

0 bunny rabbits (Thank Christ)

The live bird was the biggest surprise. Malingo is a rabid manic ruthless bird-hunter, and we've gotten used to finding piles of feathers in the food dish on a daily basis. (He drops them in the damn food dish, like he's trying to be polite.)

So when he pranced in growling and holding a bird in his jaws, we went to toss him and his treat outside.

Mom: Hang on-- I've almost got it away from him-- there.

Me: Hey, it's flying!

Mom: What did you say? Help me get him outside before he picks it up again.

Me: I said he's not going to get it again, because it's flying.

I guess Malingo wanted some indoor playtime, because it was totally unhurt. Mom held Malingo while Erin caught and freed the bird, which she says very soft. I want to hold a very soft bird.

Maybe Malingo will bring me one.

Pat Buchanan, always very much a voice of reason, has weighed in on Obama's speech.

My favorite part:

"First, America has been the best country on earth for black folks. It was here that 600,000 black people, brought from Africa in slave ships, grew into a community of 40 million, were introduced to Christian salvation, and reached the greatest levels of freedom and prosperity blacks have ever known."

WAIT WHAT I'M SORRY WHAT?

Oh my God.

~
Aaaand Mom got in touch with me from work today to tell me that she slipped on the ice in the parking lot, and sprained her wrist, which is now in a brace identical to mine.

Come on, this is just getting ridiculous. I think that's the first time Mom and I were cracking up over a hurt family member.

So we're now one away from a fully matched/braced set. Watch out, Erin.

The first couple days taking care of Dad went just fine. Because he was on a ton of meds and sleeping most of the day.

As he gets better, he turns more and more into...well, into himself.

And it's not that I don't understand. It sucks being laid up. Anyone in our family would be restless if they were laid up. And it's not that I mind helping him, because he needs it, and anyone in our family would do the same for me (have done, actually). He certainly didn't choose to need help.

I am not trying to be bitchy and resentful about being the one to take care of Dad while Mom works and Erin's in school. But I do need to rant about some of it. Especially since telling Dad himself is useless.

When I'm upstairs, I have my door open. I can hear you call me. You know this. But it does take me more than two seconds to get up, go to the stairs, and go down the stairs. You don't need to keep calling me, because I'm not ignoring you. I'm busy getting to the fucking stairs.

I don't mind getting things for you, Dad, but I can only multitask to a certain point. If you just asked me to clear your dishes and I'm on my way to the kitchen, don't call me when I'm halfway there to get you something from the living room, and then remember you also need something from the basement. Let me do one thing at a time, because you know when I come back I'll ask if you if you need anything else.

I don't mind fixing your meals, but you make it harder than it has to be. If I give you coffee, don't call me once and tell me it needs more cream, then call me a second time because it needs to be warmer, then call me a third time because it needs something else. Ditto foods that need more salt and then need a different fork and then need gravy and then need another napkin. Look at your mug/plate, take a little inventory of what it needs, and maybe save me three or four trips to the kitchen.

There are other things I do while Mom and Erin are gone. If I'm taking laundry upstairs, don't ask me to get something from the kitchen when I'm halfway up the stairs. Ask me if I can do it first, or wait for me to come back down, because you *know* I will come back down and ask if you need anything. If I'm doing the dishes, don't call me five times because you can't remember which movies are your Tivo and which are mine, because that can wait until I come back and ask if you need anything else.

Every time I go out to the porch, I can see him resisting the urge to say something about it, and of course it's only a matter of time until he does. Guess what? I don't fucking smoke most of the time! I smoke when I'm stressed!

Okay, rant over. I'm dealing with this a lot better than this entry makes it seem like, honestly. That's what entries like this are for.

Dad's knee is totally fucked.

Not only was there some fracturing, which they expected since he's hurt that knee before, but a tendon actually snapped clean and had to be stitched back in place.

Ow.

What the doctor did not say was how much of the damage Dad actually inflicted on himself. "It doesn't hurt unless I bend my knee. Hand me my cane, I can split the firewood if I just keep my leg from bending. Hand me my cane, I can use the snowblower by leaning on it."

"I am not handing you your cane. Just because I've come to accept that you're always going to do stupid shit doesn't mean I have to aid and abet."

He went to Clare yesterday for surgery and got home today.

He's off his feet for the next week or two, on crutches after that, going to be laid up for at least 6 weeks, so retirement is not definite *yet* but *very* likely.

He's on Vicodin *and* Percocet, so no problems dealing with him yet. We will see how this goes. After the third or fourth week, Mom may be the one taking the pills.

I *was* going to call this "A post that does NOT involve famous dead people", but nooo, Heath Ledger had to go and spoil that for me. It sucks that he's dead, not because I admired him terribly as an actor or anything, but because this has completely halted a Terry Gilliam film featuring Tom Waits.

Allow me to repeat that: A Terry Gilliam film featuring Tom Waits.

FUCK.

~

The Tiger Lillies:

“The criminal castrati and his accordion driven anarchic Brechtian street opera trio performing their unique mix of falsetto crooning, strange gypsy music, cabaret from hell and deranged black comedy all over the World.”

Heart. Heart. Heart. Heart. Heart.

~

Reading a lot. Reading a lot of Ruth Rendell/Barbara Vine. I don't understand it, but Ruth Rendell's novels under her own name are much better than the ones she's written as Barbara Vine. It's like her junk pile pseudonym.

~

Erin wrote a really amazing story and you should read it because I am extremely fucking proud of her.

~

My spam is now writing poetry of a sort.

It is lucky moment to be in an excess of joy
Just dont hesitate
And the glariest ladies can entertain you
When you see indecent show without paying any penny

~

The movie "Gamebox 1.0" cannot tell the difference between ninjas and zombies. Which is sad. Really, really sad. And dangerous.

~

Aaaand the big update- Dad slipped on the ice out at the lake, and fractured his knee. Whereas a normal, sane person would get himself to the truck and go to Urgent Care, my father chose to get himself to the truck, go home, change his clothes, have dinner, and go to Urgent Care.

This is ultra big news because if Dad has to have surgery (waiting for MRI results on this) or have a cast put on (ditto MRI results), he won't be able to go back to work for some time.

If Dad can't go back to work, he's pretty much made up his mind to retire now instead of at the end of the year, since this would allow him to collect both retirement and disability.

Erin: What are we going to do if Dad retires and he's home all the time?
Me: I...don't know.

Mom: What am I going to do if your father retires and he's home all the time?
Me: I...don't know.

What are we going to do if Dad retires and he's home all the time?

I don't know.

~

Last but not least, I love my mom.

It's early in the morning, Mom's getting ready for work, I'm in the kitchen having a cup of coffee and enjoying the quiet.

Mom comes in and pours herself a cup of coffee. And we both just stand there in the kitchen, drinking our coffee, nice and quiet.

Mom: *apropos of fucking nothing at all* Why pubic hair?

Me: *spitting coffee all over myself* What?!

Mom: Our our underarms, either. I mean, it doesn't make any sense. It seems very random where we ended up with hair and where we didn't.

Me: ...

And then this afternoon, we're doing laundry. Just down in the basement, sorting laundry, nice and quiet.

Mom: I'm glad I don't have eye stalks.

Me: What?

Mom: Well, just imagine if your eyes were on stalks like an alien, instead of in your head. I'd be very depressed.

Me: ...