I like Dunkin Donuts coffee a lot. It’s always nice and strong and rarely bitter. And sometimes, not too often, you get a perfect cup—just the right amount of cream to bring out the flavor, absolutely fresh, and just so smooth I can’t put words to it. I got one of those cups this morning.
Then I saw a flock of wild turkeys by the brook I pass on the way to school. When I was a kid you just didn’t see wild turkeys in Connecticut so even though you see them a lot more frequently now, it still always seems like a special thing to me when I do see them.
I have to got get the Thanksgiving turkey tonight. I’m cooking the meal for our family this year. Last year I took over the cooking from my mom. Last Thanksgiving was Interesting Times. There’s an ancient Chinese curse, “May you live in interesting times.” It had been maybe a week since we had found out about Mom’s gall bladder cancer and things were pretty black; she was still exhausted from the surgery that had caused the discovery when she got the news from her surgeon, and he was very grim about the prognosis, so though we didn’t have details yet we had the basic idea that Mom was going to die soon.
So we decided to have Thanksgiving anyway, and not to tell our extended relatives until after the holiday so they could all enjoy it, so maybe we could all enjoy it. And I decided to cook because there was just no way Mom could handle it. It was all very strange. We were all a little lost inside our own heads, wrapping ourselves around the idea that this may be our last Thanksgiving as a complete family, trying to figure out how each of us would survive without her, and all the while trying to hold it together so she could enjoy the day. And somehow I think she really did enjoy it. It was the first time probably ever that she was able to lounge in the living room, sipping wine and talking with her family while someone else took care of everything in the kitchen.
And every little moment was precious to each of us. When you are looking through the eyes of someone who knows this is the end, every tiny thing is important and lovely in its own way.
It’s a year later now. Mom’s a walking miracle. The cancer had spread throughout her abdominal cavity and she was supposed to be either dead or almost dead now. Instead, she experienced a brief remission this spring and though the cancer has returned, she takes every chemotherapy, every radiation treatment, every surgery, like an absolute champion. She has been so incredibly lucky—we all have. She suffers very few side effects and only occasional pain. She has all her hair and to look at her you would not know she’s been fighting cancer for a year.
As for me, I took it hard for awhile. We all did. But I have to say it is amazing how easily you eventually learn to live your life as if this hugely tragic thing isn’t permeating you, as if each doctor’s appointment couldn’t just crush your world all over again with another turn for the worse. It becomes, after some time, just another fact of your life. You get up every day and do what you have to do that day, and it’s there. But so are so many other things. Everything’s just there, everything’s still there.
It was also my mom’s birthday this past Monday, along with having another doctor’s appointment. As we were sitting there in the doctor’s office and waiting, it all hit me again, the pain. It does that sometimes, though it’s been a long time since the last time it happened to me. I was just looking at her and fighting back the tears, looking at her and wondering if a new tumor was starting to grow yet, looking at her and wondering if this birthday, this Thanksgiving would be the last.
And that’s how it is. Everything’s okay, and then suddenly it isn’t. And then it’s okay again.
Interesting Times. I understand why the Chinese would have thought of it as a curse, but I don’t know that it really is. Interesting Times make you find the beauty in everything.
Today I got a perfect cup of coffee. And I saw a flock of wild Turkeys. And that makes me happy. Things are okay.
Tuesday, December 27, 2005
Ending a Friendship (11/11/05)
I haven’t had a lot of girlfriends (special note to Mike: This term does not refer to lesbian relationships!) since high school, and none that I’ve been really close with. Partly it was a result of bad experiences with my high school friends. One of my first real relationships was with a guy that was part of our group in junior year. When we broke up it was too painful for me to be around him and he wouldn’t leave so I just started hanging out more with some new friends. Senior year he had graduated so I thought things would be cool with all of us again and they were for a while until another guy got involved.
I was dating him for a while fall of senior year and then decided to break up with him so he decided to start going out with my best friend Katie. I mean, that’s a golden rule. Don’t date your best friend’s leftovers! So, and this is the really funny part, he called me up like a week later and wanted to know if he dumped Katie if I would go out with him again. I mean, come on. What a scumbag. So I told Katie, she dumped him, and we had a good laugh (but I was still secretly bothered that they had gotten together to begin with).
Then there was my other best friend Jen and her secret crush, Ed. Ed and I were friends and I hung out with him sometimes and Jen knew all this, but one day I was watching a movie with Ed and he kept putting his hand on my thigh. I kept moving it off my thigh and figured he got the hint after awhile. Next time we hung out we spent the day together and at the end of the day he kissed me. I pulled away immediately and stopped taking his phone calls or talking to him anymore. I didn’t want to tell Jen about the kiss because I didn’t want to hurt her feelings and I was never going to let anything else happen ever anyway, but when she found out I had even spent the day with him she got totally mad and wouldn’t talk to me for like a week. (Even though she had known about me spending time with him before, which makes no sense.)
So there were a bunch of other incidents like that senior year that made me glad to leave high school and move on to new friends. I did have some friends that were great fun my freshman year of college from the place I worked, which is how I met my ex. But once the business where we worked closed we drifted apart because we weren’t that close on a level beyond hanging out and getting drunk together. Besides, by that time I had my ex that I was dating and things had gotten really serious really fast.
We were together for several years and we both sort of mutually contributed to my never developing female relationships that were deep and meaningful. I wasn’t that keen on girl friendships anymore anyway, and he was more than happy to have me all to himself, even though he had his own friends. But I’m not going to go off on the ex thing today. So anyway, years went by and a few friends came and went but nothing really substantial. And I thought I was okay with that. I mean, he was my best friend and we were supposed to get married so I’d always have him.
Except I didn’t always have him. And the night he broke up with me I was alone at 3 am weeping and with no one to call. It is a horrible feeling to realize that there is no one in your life that you are close enough to call at 3 in the morning. I vowed right then that I would never let myself be in that position again. And I haven’t been.
It’s been ten months and my life in no way resembles the life I used to have. I have many friends, most of the close ones female. Since that time I’ve done nothing but develop new friends at every opportunity, which is what made a recent decision very hard. I had to decide to end one of those friendships.
I really, really connected with this girl too. We had a lot of fun even though we hadn’t known each other more than a couple of months and we had a lot of the same interests. First she had a fight with one of my friends. That friend tried to convince me that she was a liar and a hurtful person but I just try really hard not to judge people based on what others say, even though I really trust this person that was telling me these things. I just thought maybe they were miscommunicating or something and I wanted to give both of my friends the benefit of the doubt. Then like a week later she made some really insensitive comments to another friend of mine and pissed him off.
So now in the course of a week she has managed to upset two people whose opinions I’ve come to value. I needed to think about this. We all three of us started talking about the things she had said to each of us about the others and realized that she had been feeding all of us lies about the others. Examples: I had given her detailed reports on my sex life with the new Guy. I would not do that. Those things are too private. (Even if it is the best I’ve had, for instance, I wouldn’t tell anyone but him that. Oops, and everyone who googles the right things on the Internet now.) She told one friend and I a story about this guy she liked but the other friend knew the guy and knew the story was completely false. There are many more examples but you get the idea.
I had an experience awhile back with someone close with me that was a real pathological liar. I can see that that is what this girl’s problem is. It is a mental illness and she is starved for positive attention so she makes things up about all the people around her to make herself look victimized. It is truly sad and she really does need help but is unwilling to get it. I stuck it through with this other person because it was a close family member and we are past it now but it took a long, long time.
So I decided not to stick it through with this friend. I had only known her for a short time. While we had lots of fun together, we really weren’t that close yet and lying is a tough thing to get over. It basically means there is no trust so how do you develop a close relationship with someone where that’s true at the beginning? I can’t so I stopped the friendship.
It was a weird feeling, after months of doing nothing but developing new friends to get rid of one. I take ending a friendship much more seriously than I did as a senior in high school, that’s for sure.
I was dating him for a while fall of senior year and then decided to break up with him so he decided to start going out with my best friend Katie. I mean, that’s a golden rule. Don’t date your best friend’s leftovers! So, and this is the really funny part, he called me up like a week later and wanted to know if he dumped Katie if I would go out with him again. I mean, come on. What a scumbag. So I told Katie, she dumped him, and we had a good laugh (but I was still secretly bothered that they had gotten together to begin with).
Then there was my other best friend Jen and her secret crush, Ed. Ed and I were friends and I hung out with him sometimes and Jen knew all this, but one day I was watching a movie with Ed and he kept putting his hand on my thigh. I kept moving it off my thigh and figured he got the hint after awhile. Next time we hung out we spent the day together and at the end of the day he kissed me. I pulled away immediately and stopped taking his phone calls or talking to him anymore. I didn’t want to tell Jen about the kiss because I didn’t want to hurt her feelings and I was never going to let anything else happen ever anyway, but when she found out I had even spent the day with him she got totally mad and wouldn’t talk to me for like a week. (Even though she had known about me spending time with him before, which makes no sense.)
So there were a bunch of other incidents like that senior year that made me glad to leave high school and move on to new friends. I did have some friends that were great fun my freshman year of college from the place I worked, which is how I met my ex. But once the business where we worked closed we drifted apart because we weren’t that close on a level beyond hanging out and getting drunk together. Besides, by that time I had my ex that I was dating and things had gotten really serious really fast.
We were together for several years and we both sort of mutually contributed to my never developing female relationships that were deep and meaningful. I wasn’t that keen on girl friendships anymore anyway, and he was more than happy to have me all to himself, even though he had his own friends. But I’m not going to go off on the ex thing today. So anyway, years went by and a few friends came and went but nothing really substantial. And I thought I was okay with that. I mean, he was my best friend and we were supposed to get married so I’d always have him.
Except I didn’t always have him. And the night he broke up with me I was alone at 3 am weeping and with no one to call. It is a horrible feeling to realize that there is no one in your life that you are close enough to call at 3 in the morning. I vowed right then that I would never let myself be in that position again. And I haven’t been.
It’s been ten months and my life in no way resembles the life I used to have. I have many friends, most of the close ones female. Since that time I’ve done nothing but develop new friends at every opportunity, which is what made a recent decision very hard. I had to decide to end one of those friendships.
I really, really connected with this girl too. We had a lot of fun even though we hadn’t known each other more than a couple of months and we had a lot of the same interests. First she had a fight with one of my friends. That friend tried to convince me that she was a liar and a hurtful person but I just try really hard not to judge people based on what others say, even though I really trust this person that was telling me these things. I just thought maybe they were miscommunicating or something and I wanted to give both of my friends the benefit of the doubt. Then like a week later she made some really insensitive comments to another friend of mine and pissed him off.
So now in the course of a week she has managed to upset two people whose opinions I’ve come to value. I needed to think about this. We all three of us started talking about the things she had said to each of us about the others and realized that she had been feeding all of us lies about the others. Examples: I had given her detailed reports on my sex life with the new Guy. I would not do that. Those things are too private. (Even if it is the best I’ve had, for instance, I wouldn’t tell anyone but him that. Oops, and everyone who googles the right things on the Internet now.) She told one friend and I a story about this guy she liked but the other friend knew the guy and knew the story was completely false. There are many more examples but you get the idea.
I had an experience awhile back with someone close with me that was a real pathological liar. I can see that that is what this girl’s problem is. It is a mental illness and she is starved for positive attention so she makes things up about all the people around her to make herself look victimized. It is truly sad and she really does need help but is unwilling to get it. I stuck it through with this other person because it was a close family member and we are past it now but it took a long, long time.
So I decided not to stick it through with this friend. I had only known her for a short time. While we had lots of fun together, we really weren’t that close yet and lying is a tough thing to get over. It basically means there is no trust so how do you develop a close relationship with someone where that’s true at the beginning? I can’t so I stopped the friendship.
It was a weird feeling, after months of doing nothing but developing new friends to get rid of one. I take ending a friendship much more seriously than I did as a senior in high school, that’s for sure.
About Victoria--Something Serious (11/26/05)
My niece comes over every Sunday through Thursday night. This is a new arrangement we started this school year. The reason is that, as I explained to a friend a couple of weeks ago, my brother and his wife had a daughter nine years ago and then forgot to raise her. She is the sweetest, most intelligent kid you could meet. She is extremely tall for her age—at nine, she is taller than my 5’1” and has always been the tallest kid in her class.
She learned to darn her own socks at the age of six. This is the kid she is. Her parents have not taken care of her so she’s taken care of herself, and I guess no one in the rest of the family realized how bad it had gotten until this past August. Now we are trying to do the best we can. We’ve gotten her parents to sign legal documents giving a temporary guardianship to my mother and I, though they probably aren’t even aware of exactly what it was they signed and didn’t care enough to read through it all. We have her school nights and send her to school every morning with clean, tangle-free hair, brushed teeth, and homework done. (All things her own parents couldn’t be bothered to do last year.)
She sees her parents every day after school for a few hours and supposedly stays there on weekends, except now her other grandmother takes her all weekend and her parents don’t seem to really care. So she comes over Sundays after not being here all weekend, and her gorgeous long hair—which we carefully brush and braid each night—is a giant mess of knots because it has been not brushed, not braided, not even washed all weekend. Every Sunday night we have to yank the weekend buildup of knots out of her hair while she cries and cries over the pain and every Sunday night I apologize that she is in pain but we must get these knots out.
We’ve tried teaching her to braid her own hair. We’ve tried asking her mother to braid it when she’s at her house, even going so far as to call twice a night to remind her. It doesn’t matter. No one braids it. And there she is every Sunday night in hysterics. The last few Sundays I’ve been getting mad about the whole thing, and have started saying, “I’m sorry but I’m not sorry because it’s not my fault we have to do this every week.” She was crying again tonight and started to refuse to let me brush it and I was getting really mad.
This is not my fault, I told her. We brush and braid your hair every night when you’re here and you go away and no one does it for you. We tell you to ask. You HAVE TO tell your Grandmother when you’re there that she MUST brush and braid your hair at night. Do you want to go to school tomorrow with knots in your hair? I HAVE TO brush your hair and it has to hurt. No, you can’t do it yourself because you never get THIS KNOT right here out of your head because that’s the one that hurts and you won’t hurt yourself (which I really can’t blame the kid for, honestly). Do you think I really enjoy doing something that makes you cry?
She said well let me try it myself. And I knew I was starting to get too angry so I said she had five minutes, shut her in the room, and walked away to cool off. I came back five minutes later and was truly amazed that for the first time ever she had actually removed all her knots, and in like 1/3 of the time it’s ever taken us before. She said, “It really hurt but I did it, Auntie!”
And my heart broke. What is wrong with this world that makes a kid as wonderful as her have to have such a horrible life? There are some things I will just never, ever understand. I took her in my arms and told her how much I love her and that I was so sorry for getting angry. I told her I wasn’t angry at her, that none of this was her fault. That I was angry at all the adults in her life that can’t be bothered to do these things for her. Then I said I loved her again.
That was the first time I ever said anything remotely negative to her about her parents or other grandmother but in that moment, looking at that beautiful, strong girl whose soul is so much older than her nine years, I just could not help being honest. It had to be said.
This is not your fault, Victoria. It’s everyone else’s. You poor, poor thing.
She learned to darn her own socks at the age of six. This is the kid she is. Her parents have not taken care of her so she’s taken care of herself, and I guess no one in the rest of the family realized how bad it had gotten until this past August. Now we are trying to do the best we can. We’ve gotten her parents to sign legal documents giving a temporary guardianship to my mother and I, though they probably aren’t even aware of exactly what it was they signed and didn’t care enough to read through it all. We have her school nights and send her to school every morning with clean, tangle-free hair, brushed teeth, and homework done. (All things her own parents couldn’t be bothered to do last year.)
She sees her parents every day after school for a few hours and supposedly stays there on weekends, except now her other grandmother takes her all weekend and her parents don’t seem to really care. So she comes over Sundays after not being here all weekend, and her gorgeous long hair—which we carefully brush and braid each night—is a giant mess of knots because it has been not brushed, not braided, not even washed all weekend. Every Sunday night we have to yank the weekend buildup of knots out of her hair while she cries and cries over the pain and every Sunday night I apologize that she is in pain but we must get these knots out.
We’ve tried teaching her to braid her own hair. We’ve tried asking her mother to braid it when she’s at her house, even going so far as to call twice a night to remind her. It doesn’t matter. No one braids it. And there she is every Sunday night in hysterics. The last few Sundays I’ve been getting mad about the whole thing, and have started saying, “I’m sorry but I’m not sorry because it’s not my fault we have to do this every week.” She was crying again tonight and started to refuse to let me brush it and I was getting really mad.
This is not my fault, I told her. We brush and braid your hair every night when you’re here and you go away and no one does it for you. We tell you to ask. You HAVE TO tell your Grandmother when you’re there that she MUST brush and braid your hair at night. Do you want to go to school tomorrow with knots in your hair? I HAVE TO brush your hair and it has to hurt. No, you can’t do it yourself because you never get THIS KNOT right here out of your head because that’s the one that hurts and you won’t hurt yourself (which I really can’t blame the kid for, honestly). Do you think I really enjoy doing something that makes you cry?
She said well let me try it myself. And I knew I was starting to get too angry so I said she had five minutes, shut her in the room, and walked away to cool off. I came back five minutes later and was truly amazed that for the first time ever she had actually removed all her knots, and in like 1/3 of the time it’s ever taken us before. She said, “It really hurt but I did it, Auntie!”
And my heart broke. What is wrong with this world that makes a kid as wonderful as her have to have such a horrible life? There are some things I will just never, ever understand. I took her in my arms and told her how much I love her and that I was so sorry for getting angry. I told her I wasn’t angry at her, that none of this was her fault. That I was angry at all the adults in her life that can’t be bothered to do these things for her. Then I said I loved her again.
That was the first time I ever said anything remotely negative to her about her parents or other grandmother but in that moment, looking at that beautiful, strong girl whose soul is so much older than her nine years, I just could not help being honest. It had to be said.
This is not your fault, Victoria. It’s everyone else’s. You poor, poor thing.
My Top 3 (10/31/05)
What I did in between Trick or Treaters
Perfect Crimes
1. Kidnapping
2. Random Acts Against Authorities
3. Bank Robber
Batman Villains
1. Two Face- Taken over by his evil side and flip a coin to justify his evil.
2. Cat Woman- Loves skin tight outfights, cats and being evil.
3. The Riddler- He hates batman and loves guady outfits and confusing rhymes.
Criminal Organizations
1. Russian Mob
2. Mafia
3. Guerillas
Murder Weapons
1. Icicle- You're smart, but twisted. This murder weapon would be tricky to use but would melt away after use, leaving no evidence.
2. Bomb- You would kill to put your veiws across. You're smart and dont care about other people.
3. Killer Ants- Tie em up and cover 'em in honey then release the killer ants. You are screwed up, James Bond villian style. Can also use; Dogs, Bees or sharks.
Prostitutes
1. Female Escort
2. Two-cent Ho
3. Male Escort
Social Outcasts
1. Vigilante
2. Renegate
3. Cultist
Terrorist Organizations
1. IRA
2. Red Bridges
3. Al Qaeda
World Domination Methods
1. Start a computer company, develop a market monopoly, and then infitrate every home in the world with evil machines of death
2. Threaten World Leaders with a Giant Laser
3. Create a loyal race of mutant broccoli-men
Greek Gods
1. Aphrodite
2. Athena
3. Eros
Axis of Evil Country
1. Iran
2. Iraq
3. North Korea
4. France
Buffy Baddie
1. Drucilla
2. Spike
3. Angelus
Dead Poet's Society
1. Shakespeare- You are lyrical, romantic and passionate about your work. You live for drama and tragedy will never get the best of you, because you will turn it into art.
2. Allen Ginsberg- You are intelligent, political and controversial.
You experiment with your art and art is your life.
3. Jim Morrison- You are spiritual, sexy and somewhat of a troublemaker. You are very controversial and you may even be musically inclined.
Go to http://www.selectsmart.com/ for more fun
Perfect Crimes
1. Kidnapping
2. Random Acts Against Authorities
3. Bank Robber
Batman Villains
1. Two Face- Taken over by his evil side and flip a coin to justify his evil.
2. Cat Woman- Loves skin tight outfights, cats and being evil.
3. The Riddler- He hates batman and loves guady outfits and confusing rhymes.
Criminal Organizations
1. Russian Mob
2. Mafia
3. Guerillas
Murder Weapons
1. Icicle- You're smart, but twisted. This murder weapon would be tricky to use but would melt away after use, leaving no evidence.
2. Bomb- You would kill to put your veiws across. You're smart and dont care about other people.
3. Killer Ants- Tie em up and cover 'em in honey then release the killer ants. You are screwed up, James Bond villian style. Can also use; Dogs, Bees or sharks.
Prostitutes
1. Female Escort
2. Two-cent Ho
3. Male Escort
Social Outcasts
1. Vigilante
2. Renegate
3. Cultist
Terrorist Organizations
1. IRA
2. Red Bridges
3. Al Qaeda
World Domination Methods
1. Start a computer company, develop a market monopoly, and then infitrate every home in the world with evil machines of death
2. Threaten World Leaders with a Giant Laser
3. Create a loyal race of mutant broccoli-men
Greek Gods
1. Aphrodite
2. Athena
3. Eros
Axis of Evil Country
1. Iran
2. Iraq
3. North Korea
4. France
Buffy Baddie
1. Drucilla
2. Spike
3. Angelus
Dead Poet's Society
1. Shakespeare- You are lyrical, romantic and passionate about your work. You live for drama and tragedy will never get the best of you, because you will turn it into art.
2. Allen Ginsberg- You are intelligent, political and controversial.
You experiment with your art and art is your life.
3. Jim Morrison- You are spiritual, sexy and somewhat of a troublemaker. You are very controversial and you may even be musically inclined.
Go to http://www.selectsmart.com/ for more fun
Andy's 2 Balls, My Magenta Bruise, and My Mom's Fake O (10/30/05)
We left late. I got home at 8 and showered and did all my packing in one hour; I needed to drive my mom to pick up Kristy at college; we were meeting Stacy there. Somehow, even though Mom was all packed when I got there, we still were unable to leave for another 45 minutes after I was ready. So we were finally on the road.
First stop: This awesome little winery called North River Winery in southern VT, where they brew non-grape based fruit wines. We stopped there this summer for the first time, loved it and bought many bottles, which are all gone now; so we took orders from everyone and swung by on the way to Kristy. Well, we got there at like 11 and they were just starting a tasting with some other group so of course we joined in. When we finished, we had discovered this excellent wine for Thanksgiving, Vermont Harvest. It’s made of almost entirely apples with a little maple syrup and cinnamon. You serve it hot and it tastes like sipping an apple pie. Yum!
So when I finished there I sent a text to my friend saying that I just finished a wine tasting. (My plan had been to send out snarky little messages all weekend along the lines of, “Look what I’m doing and you’re not!” Unfortunately, I soon lost signal and my evil little plan fell through.) So he replied, “I see you haven’t left home yet.” Ha ha. I’m a drunk. How very clever. (Okay, so maybe the evidence supports this and maybe it is sort of funny, but this is MY blog, so let’s all be sarcastic about how not funny that was.)
We brought my 5 month old kitten, Andy. I have another cat who beats him up when I’m not home and I felt really bad leaving them home together all weekend without adult supervision. Andy’s pretty good in the car and he likes getting a lot of attention to himself. (Oh, and before you go and start thinking, “So she’s going to be the old lady with 20 cats,” that is not the case. I actually never really liked cats but have a soft heart for any abandoned animal, and the both of them were abandoned. Then again, I suppose all those old ladies started somewhere, but I am drawing the line at two, do you hear me?)
So my youngest sister didn’t get there until like 10:30 and then we decided to open a bottle of wine. We were all having a pretty good time but let me tell you, someone in that room had severe intestinal issues, and the whole room was just a nasty pit of fartiness. Then we decided to check on the status of Andy’s balls because only one dropped and we’re supposed to wait until they both do to get him fixed, so I went to see how many balls he had, and out was sticking his little pecker! EWWW! I don’t want to see Andy’s little pecker! It took me awhile to get up the nerve to check again, but sure enough, he had 2 balls! He’s become a little man! How cute.
Next morning, I had to sneak Andy out of the hotel because see we weren’t technically supposed to have him there. So I had a plan. I had my black Sierra Club backpack, which I was going to zip him into and run as fast as I could out of the building and dump him into my car. So here I come, barreling down the stairs and holding a mad, possessed backpack in my arms, and guess what? I missed the second step. Landed hard on my ass and slid down the next several steps, whacking my back on each one. I had slowed enough momentum about halfway down enough to think about stopping but decided, what the hell? And finished the ride.
When I got up and rounded the corner there was the maid all are you okay? Do you need me to get anything? And here I was, disheveled and limping and holding a backpack to my chest that had a cat-shaped face outlined in black cloth as Andy tried to find his way out in about 15 different directions. No, no, I’m fine. (Nervous laugh and exit as fast as possible.) Then I dumped Andy in the back of Prof. Bob and landed in the front and just sat examining whether anything was broken. Nope, just a lot of soreness. But . . . that night I discovered a very large magenta bruise all across my ass. How very attractive. It was so hideous that when I saw it, I ran out to show my sisters my ugly ass. Guess I’ll just have to make sure to keep my pants on around Mr. Guy unless the lights are out.
So anyway, before the discovery of the hideous bruise, we went looking for moose, which was the whole point of the trip. I myself, having seen several moose, was the official moose expert among the group. The truth is they tend to frequent the same spots at around the same times of night so if you know the pattern, they’re not that difficult to find. So we were driving this stretch of road called Success Loop, where I have seen 5 moose and shining the flashlight out into the woods without much luck. My sisters decided if they made moose calling noises this would help the situation so there are now dreadful moans being emitted from Prof. Bob along with the light; I’m sure any moose in the area took off pronto.
We did, however, find a couple making out in their pickup truck. On the second pass they seemed to be getting themselves back together so I think we scared them too. My sister made a comment about my mom’s moose calls sounding more like sex, to which my mom replied that she must be doing it wrong; this is how you fake an orgasm. And then we were treated to my mom’s own little reenactment of the When Harry Met Sally diner scene.
Oh. My. God. I really think my ears are permanently damaged. I do believe hearing your mom fake it as an educational tool for you is worse than just about anything, including catching the parents in the act. And yet, when I informed her that I never again wanted to hear those noises issuing from her again, she was shocked (and a little miffed, probably). She could honestly not understand what was so disturbing about that whole fiasco.
Oh yeah, and we never got to see any moose. We’ll have to try again in the spring.
First stop: This awesome little winery called North River Winery in southern VT, where they brew non-grape based fruit wines. We stopped there this summer for the first time, loved it and bought many bottles, which are all gone now; so we took orders from everyone and swung by on the way to Kristy. Well, we got there at like 11 and they were just starting a tasting with some other group so of course we joined in. When we finished, we had discovered this excellent wine for Thanksgiving, Vermont Harvest. It’s made of almost entirely apples with a little maple syrup and cinnamon. You serve it hot and it tastes like sipping an apple pie. Yum!
So when I finished there I sent a text to my friend saying that I just finished a wine tasting. (My plan had been to send out snarky little messages all weekend along the lines of, “Look what I’m doing and you’re not!” Unfortunately, I soon lost signal and my evil little plan fell through.) So he replied, “I see you haven’t left home yet.” Ha ha. I’m a drunk. How very clever. (Okay, so maybe the evidence supports this and maybe it is sort of funny, but this is MY blog, so let’s all be sarcastic about how not funny that was.)
We brought my 5 month old kitten, Andy. I have another cat who beats him up when I’m not home and I felt really bad leaving them home together all weekend without adult supervision. Andy’s pretty good in the car and he likes getting a lot of attention to himself. (Oh, and before you go and start thinking, “So she’s going to be the old lady with 20 cats,” that is not the case. I actually never really liked cats but have a soft heart for any abandoned animal, and the both of them were abandoned. Then again, I suppose all those old ladies started somewhere, but I am drawing the line at two, do you hear me?)
So my youngest sister didn’t get there until like 10:30 and then we decided to open a bottle of wine. We were all having a pretty good time but let me tell you, someone in that room had severe intestinal issues, and the whole room was just a nasty pit of fartiness. Then we decided to check on the status of Andy’s balls because only one dropped and we’re supposed to wait until they both do to get him fixed, so I went to see how many balls he had, and out was sticking his little pecker! EWWW! I don’t want to see Andy’s little pecker! It took me awhile to get up the nerve to check again, but sure enough, he had 2 balls! He’s become a little man! How cute.
Next morning, I had to sneak Andy out of the hotel because see we weren’t technically supposed to have him there. So I had a plan. I had my black Sierra Club backpack, which I was going to zip him into and run as fast as I could out of the building and dump him into my car. So here I come, barreling down the stairs and holding a mad, possessed backpack in my arms, and guess what? I missed the second step. Landed hard on my ass and slid down the next several steps, whacking my back on each one. I had slowed enough momentum about halfway down enough to think about stopping but decided, what the hell? And finished the ride.
When I got up and rounded the corner there was the maid all are you okay? Do you need me to get anything? And here I was, disheveled and limping and holding a backpack to my chest that had a cat-shaped face outlined in black cloth as Andy tried to find his way out in about 15 different directions. No, no, I’m fine. (Nervous laugh and exit as fast as possible.) Then I dumped Andy in the back of Prof. Bob and landed in the front and just sat examining whether anything was broken. Nope, just a lot of soreness. But . . . that night I discovered a very large magenta bruise all across my ass. How very attractive. It was so hideous that when I saw it, I ran out to show my sisters my ugly ass. Guess I’ll just have to make sure to keep my pants on around Mr. Guy unless the lights are out.
So anyway, before the discovery of the hideous bruise, we went looking for moose, which was the whole point of the trip. I myself, having seen several moose, was the official moose expert among the group. The truth is they tend to frequent the same spots at around the same times of night so if you know the pattern, they’re not that difficult to find. So we were driving this stretch of road called Success Loop, where I have seen 5 moose and shining the flashlight out into the woods without much luck. My sisters decided if they made moose calling noises this would help the situation so there are now dreadful moans being emitted from Prof. Bob along with the light; I’m sure any moose in the area took off pronto.
We did, however, find a couple making out in their pickup truck. On the second pass they seemed to be getting themselves back together so I think we scared them too. My sister made a comment about my mom’s moose calls sounding more like sex, to which my mom replied that she must be doing it wrong; this is how you fake an orgasm. And then we were treated to my mom’s own little reenactment of the When Harry Met Sally diner scene.
Oh. My. God. I really think my ears are permanently damaged. I do believe hearing your mom fake it as an educational tool for you is worse than just about anything, including catching the parents in the act. And yet, when I informed her that I never again wanted to hear those noises issuing from her again, she was shocked (and a little miffed, probably). She could honestly not understand what was so disturbing about that whole fiasco.
Oh yeah, and we never got to see any moose. We’ll have to try again in the spring.
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