Monday, July 31, 2006
Inaugural Trip in the Camper
Arrive at "resort" campground. Am fooled by lush acres of waving grass, grazing horses, ripe perennials and heavy maples. Waved through gate and directed back through commune of blue tarp covered, palate decked campers to sliver of crooked land on side of mountain. Surrounded by women with snow plow asses stuck to golf carts hurtling themselves and six toddlers a piece back and forth from nylon camping chair to community toilet. Realize that all the "cool kids" have unbuttoned Hawaiian shirts over contrasting swim trunks with thirty pounds of gut between the two. Hear someone yell "Hey look at that old camper" and realize they are speaking about us. Burst hose for water hookup. Monitor children's honing of the whine and art of the complaint. Try to decipher the fifty different seventies rock songs blaring at once. Neighbor with sun-purpled rawhide skin accosts us en route to pool, tearfully reminiscing about his grandfathers old camper that was just like ours. Pass other scary neighbors who demand we stop and play Texas Holdem. We refuse and move on to community board where we decide whether or not to sign up for Thanksgiving potluck, Christmas in July, New Years in July, Texas Holdem championship or Adult after hours pool party. Arrive at "no", continue on to pool, have much fun. Return to campsite, tearful rawhide neighbor brings wife back to tour the inside of camper. Oscar eats jar of black pepper while man recalls every last detail of camper. Take Oscar to community toilet to rinse mouth out, leave rawhide and wife with Delta. Experience botulism scare while eating baked beans and trying to find date on can. Beans taste botulish. Sit around fire, eat marshmallows and scare living shit out of children for sake of tradition. Ward off ominous night call of "Texas Holdem? Anyone know how to play Texas Holdem?" from our neighbor. Realize that sleep is great campsite equalizer. Feel "in" with the "in" crowd while standing in line for community toilet. Wave goodmorning to rawhide and Texas Holdem. Spend day at pool thinking about coming back for New Years in August. Decide camping is good. Will do again.
Saturday, July 29, 2006
This is a Strange Planet
But we all knew that already. We're off to go camping tommorow. Camping is a strange thing to do. At least if you also own a home. Why we willingly go off into the forest to set up a new, much smaller home with no real toilet for me to lock myself into for some bloody piece and quiet for a little while, to eat terrible food cooked over a wannabe stove and sleep on six centimeters of yellow foam that calls itself a "bed" I'll never know. Especially where, in the woods, we are looked upon by some species as dinner. And tommorow is supposed to be skin blistering weather. Inside the tin can movable make believe home away from home, there are heat strokes waiting to happen. Right now. Just waiting.
PArents are also strange. I am not strange, and I am a parent, but most other parents are strange. Mine in particular. Once you grow up and realize that they are actually humans as well, with their own thought patterns and ideas, they become even stranger. Like my dad. But, he's mine and I love him. And I probably seem strange to him, though I don't understand how that could be possible. Maybe because he doesn't think normally. But that makes him fun to be around.
PMS is also strange. I think there must be a purpose for it. But I'm afraid too wonder too deeply lest it involve maiming, fire, and possibly a scud missile.
Anyway, a great weekend.
PArents are also strange. I am not strange, and I am a parent, but most other parents are strange. Mine in particular. Once you grow up and realize that they are actually humans as well, with their own thought patterns and ideas, they become even stranger. Like my dad. But, he's mine and I love him. And I probably seem strange to him, though I don't understand how that could be possible. Maybe because he doesn't think normally. But that makes him fun to be around.
PMS is also strange. I think there must be a purpose for it. But I'm afraid too wonder too deeply lest it involve maiming, fire, and possibly a scud missile.
Anyway, a great weekend.
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
PT Cakes told me that she saw on CNN it's time for Armageddon. My whole day has been f&^ck#d up since then. It would just figure God would wait till we got our new camper to pull this crap.
***UPDATE: 5 seconds after posting, lighting singed eyebrows still smarting**** Sorry God. Didn't mean anything by it.
***UPDATE: 5 seconds after posting, lighting singed eyebrows still smarting**** Sorry God. Didn't mean anything by it.
Monday, July 24, 2006
Our Contest
Delta and I have a new contest. Whoever loses 10 lbs first wins. If I win, I get a no strings backrub. For more than 5 seconds. The deadline is Sept. 23, weekend of the Highland Games. I lost our last bet, whether Brophy School was on the left or right side when turning off of Temple Street, and I think I lost several before that as well. So, my time has come. Delta better start doing some hand crunches.
Saturday, July 22, 2006
Two Wierd Things
Happened over the past two days. One, I saw a giant oval shaped ball of mist hovering over my deck. When I put my hand in it I couldn't feel it or any moisture from it though I could disturb the particles. I thought it was some serious humidity or some other freak meteorological episode but just in case I went to check on everyone in my family, including my dad who has been staying here since Satan invaded his own property. When I opened the door to the room where my dad is staying, I was greeted by the sight of my dad's arms and legs au natural, all bony and coltish and enough to send me into convulsions of unhappiness over my discovery.
"What the hell are you doing?" barked my dad.
"Looking for aliens," I answered then slammed the door and ran upstairs. Back out on the deck, the oval was gone.
Today I decided not to get out of bed at all until my kids were back in it. My own mild form of protest. Of course it didn't work but I did manage to finagle myself a pretty frickin horrible dream. We were at the house in Old Fort, it was wobbly as ever but huge now. Delta had invited people out the yin yang to stay at this house. So big was it (says Yoda) that I couldn't find my way around. (I must add that I do have a recurring dream about a house - I've had it since I was but a wee little Didi. It morphs into other shapes but always retains the same soul. This was my usual house but in Old Fort costume.) Anyway, the house was about to turn into hellhouse and I knew that from experience. The house was angry. I told Delta to get my kids out of there now, but he didn't believe me as usual. I followed him up this b ack staircase and the stairs beneath me crumbled. He had to grab my hand. And then he saw the man. He was about seven or eight feet tall, gray, covered with hairy spikes like those on a grasshopper and his face was plastered in a wide toothy grin. With strangely long arms outreached he came toward us and I shoved Delta down a hall.
"Get the kids out of here," I said again.
"What are you gonna do?"
"I have to find Phee Phee."
So Delta found Ya-Ya and Oscar, brought them out along with the thirty or forty people he'd invited to stay at the house and I went back in to find Phee Phee. But before I could move an inch, the man grabbed me, scraped me with his spiny hairs.
"Miss me?" he asked, still grinning.
"Yes, as a matter of fact," I said, deciding my only defense was to play along. His iris' were green rimmed with blue. "I missed you very much and we have so much to talk about. Just let me get my kid out of here so I can concentrate."
I jerked away from his grip and put my Albannach CD in this old, wall mounted 8 track player and surprisingly it worked. I tried to turn it up loud but it wouldn't go.
I looked back at the man and I saw phee Phee's legs sticking out of his mouth. His mouth had grown large, like a giant catfish mouth, to swallow my child. I yanked the legs,panicking, but they belonged to a cabbage patch doll. He laughed hysterically. Then the real Phee phee woke me up.
And the impression that I was left with was not that the dream was about my kids or even me, but some faint memory of something else.
"What the hell are you doing?" barked my dad.
"Looking for aliens," I answered then slammed the door and ran upstairs. Back out on the deck, the oval was gone.
Today I decided not to get out of bed at all until my kids were back in it. My own mild form of protest. Of course it didn't work but I did manage to finagle myself a pretty frickin horrible dream. We were at the house in Old Fort, it was wobbly as ever but huge now. Delta had invited people out the yin yang to stay at this house. So big was it (says Yoda) that I couldn't find my way around. (I must add that I do have a recurring dream about a house - I've had it since I was but a wee little Didi. It morphs into other shapes but always retains the same soul. This was my usual house but in Old Fort costume.) Anyway, the house was about to turn into hellhouse and I knew that from experience. The house was angry. I told Delta to get my kids out of there now, but he didn't believe me as usual. I followed him up this b ack staircase and the stairs beneath me crumbled. He had to grab my hand. And then he saw the man. He was about seven or eight feet tall, gray, covered with hairy spikes like those on a grasshopper and his face was plastered in a wide toothy grin. With strangely long arms outreached he came toward us and I shoved Delta down a hall.
"Get the kids out of here," I said again.
"What are you gonna do?"
"I have to find Phee Phee."
So Delta found Ya-Ya and Oscar, brought them out along with the thirty or forty people he'd invited to stay at the house and I went back in to find Phee Phee. But before I could move an inch, the man grabbed me, scraped me with his spiny hairs.
"Miss me?" he asked, still grinning.
"Yes, as a matter of fact," I said, deciding my only defense was to play along. His iris' were green rimmed with blue. "I missed you very much and we have so much to talk about. Just let me get my kid out of here so I can concentrate."
I jerked away from his grip and put my Albannach CD in this old, wall mounted 8 track player and surprisingly it worked. I tried to turn it up loud but it wouldn't go.
I looked back at the man and I saw phee Phee's legs sticking out of his mouth. His mouth had grown large, like a giant catfish mouth, to swallow my child. I yanked the legs,panicking, but they belonged to a cabbage patch doll. He laughed hysterically. Then the real Phee phee woke me up.
And the impression that I was left with was not that the dream was about my kids or even me, but some faint memory of something else.
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
Curse you, Brain
I just can't seem to get motivated today. Last night I dreamed that my friend Arby hated me so much that she made a collage out of pictures of loathsome things that reminded her of me and took it on the Oprah Winfrey show.
That kinda threw me out of my game today.
That kinda threw me out of my game today.
Monday, July 17, 2006
***The Following Post Refers to A Gynecologist***
**SO THOSE OF YOU SQUEAMISH WITH EXCESS INFORMATION BEWARE***
I try not to wear lipstick to the gynecologist. It's just one of my things. But that said, I was still mildly offended today when my obgyn did not recognize my face in the waiting room. I mean, 3 kids, come on. But then I thought about it and realized that if I had been standing on my hands in the waiting room with my panties around my neck so he could be addressing the end he's more familiar with and he STILL didn't recognize me, I could be mad. I'm glad Delta's not a gynecologist. What could you possibly do, as the wife of a gynecologist, to stand out in the crowd? I saw a woman, once, in Okinawa who could stack quarters on a coke bottle with her -ahem- you know. She could also chop bananas and shoot them across the room. Both seem like useful endeavors, but quite frankly, if that thing doesn't sing, wear a hat and play the cymbols I just don't think you'd stand a chance married to a gyn.
I try not to wear lipstick to the gynecologist. It's just one of my things. But that said, I was still mildly offended today when my obgyn did not recognize my face in the waiting room. I mean, 3 kids, come on. But then I thought about it and realized that if I had been standing on my hands in the waiting room with my panties around my neck so he could be addressing the end he's more familiar with and he STILL didn't recognize me, I could be mad. I'm glad Delta's not a gynecologist. What could you possibly do, as the wife of a gynecologist, to stand out in the crowd? I saw a woman, once, in Okinawa who could stack quarters on a coke bottle with her -ahem- you know. She could also chop bananas and shoot them across the room. Both seem like useful endeavors, but quite frankly, if that thing doesn't sing, wear a hat and play the cymbols I just don't think you'd stand a chance married to a gyn.
Sunday, July 16, 2006
Thursday, July 13, 2006
Vacation recap...
We are home. I tried to blog along the way, but for some reason I couldn't access my account. That was the BEST vacation EVER!!! Should I write about it? Will you read it? Maybe I'll just stick to a brief synopsis, day by day. K? K.
Day One: Finally left. Stop in CT at rest stop. Smell carcass. See man who looks as if his skin is bleached white leather stretched over skeleton with a corn bugle stuck underneath at the nose area. Man throws many black garbage bags into dumpster behind rest stop. Possible source of carcass smell. Stop in NJ for Pizza made by Mucho Brazillians who stop cooking our food to watch the World Cup. Luckily France kicks Brazil's asses. I think. I don't really know or care. But we eat. That's good. Oscar decides woman at counter might possibly be child eater and begins to howl. We leave. Spot Elvis driving MR2 in CT. Go to Roadside America and marvel at amount of time man who built it must have had. Did he hate wife? Take picture of big Amish people. Eat ice cream and take more pictures of the types of people who build big Amish people. Stop in Winchester VA where we always stop, to sleep in dirtbag hotel that pretended to be four AAA stars on the phone.
DAY TWO: Pull dust mites from eyeballs and continue on to NC. Marvell over how fat everyone else is. Wonder if we too are fat??? Exhaust ourselves with deep thoughts. Stop and eat pizza. Arrive in NC.
DAY THREE: Go to creek, collect crawdads, make them fight with each other then wear them as earings.
DAY FOUR: Can't remember
DAY FIVE: 4th of July. Go swimming then ride wild horse who rears up and gives me black eye when thunderstorm and fire crackers scare her. Then ride horse down street with crazy brothers in law. To those of you who have never galloped for your life, wet hair streaming out behind you, thunder and lightning crashing all around - do try it if you get a chance. Feel very exhilerated. Ride four wheeler up and down mountains with Delta.
DAY SIX: Visit Chimney Rock and write while Delta takes kids inner tubing
DAY SEVEN: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Go to Grandfather Mountain Highland Games. See Albannach. September Boyfriend gives us copy of new CD. Phee Phee finds salamander. Brother and Sister in Law takes kids home so Delta and I can stay for night concert. Drink 12 pack. Sneak stageside to watch our favorite band play hang for a little while with them.
DAY EIGHT: Go to favorite mountain creek and then to BRother and Sister in Law's for cookout.
DAY NINE: GO back to Highland Games :):):) Phee Phee tracks down salamander and puts him in Mason jar.
DAY TEN: Drive to Raleigh to see other bri=other and sister in law's house
DAY ELEVEN: Home. Stop for three hours in traffic because manure truck has flipped over. Sleep in PA then eat in NY at a town that was apparently stolen out of the Soprano's screenplay. GREAT food. I swear. Great food. I didn't see nothin eitha.
DAY TWELVE: Cricket eats salamander in vulgar display of woodland celebrity deathmatch. Glad I didn't bet on that one. Home at last.
Day One: Finally left. Stop in CT at rest stop. Smell carcass. See man who looks as if his skin is bleached white leather stretched over skeleton with a corn bugle stuck underneath at the nose area. Man throws many black garbage bags into dumpster behind rest stop. Possible source of carcass smell. Stop in NJ for Pizza made by Mucho Brazillians who stop cooking our food to watch the World Cup. Luckily France kicks Brazil's asses. I think. I don't really know or care. But we eat. That's good. Oscar decides woman at counter might possibly be child eater and begins to howl. We leave. Spot Elvis driving MR2 in CT. Go to Roadside America and marvel at amount of time man who built it must have had. Did he hate wife? Take picture of big Amish people. Eat ice cream and take more pictures of the types of people who build big Amish people. Stop in Winchester VA where we always stop, to sleep in dirtbag hotel that pretended to be four AAA stars on the phone.
DAY TWO: Pull dust mites from eyeballs and continue on to NC. Marvell over how fat everyone else is. Wonder if we too are fat??? Exhaust ourselves with deep thoughts. Stop and eat pizza. Arrive in NC.
DAY THREE: Go to creek, collect crawdads, make them fight with each other then wear them as earings.
DAY FOUR: Can't remember
DAY FIVE: 4th of July. Go swimming then ride wild horse who rears up and gives me black eye when thunderstorm and fire crackers scare her. Then ride horse down street with crazy brothers in law. To those of you who have never galloped for your life, wet hair streaming out behind you, thunder and lightning crashing all around - do try it if you get a chance. Feel very exhilerated. Ride four wheeler up and down mountains with Delta.
DAY SIX: Visit Chimney Rock and write while Delta takes kids inner tubing
DAY SEVEN: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Go to Grandfather Mountain Highland Games. See Albannach. September Boyfriend gives us copy of new CD. Phee Phee finds salamander. Brother and Sister in Law takes kids home so Delta and I can stay for night concert. Drink 12 pack. Sneak stageside to watch our favorite band play hang for a little while with them.
DAY EIGHT: Go to favorite mountain creek and then to BRother and Sister in Law's for cookout.
DAY NINE: GO back to Highland Games :):):) Phee Phee tracks down salamander and puts him in Mason jar.
DAY TEN: Drive to Raleigh to see other bri=other and sister in law's house
DAY ELEVEN: Home. Stop for three hours in traffic because manure truck has flipped over. Sleep in PA then eat in NY at a town that was apparently stolen out of the Soprano's screenplay. GREAT food. I swear. Great food. I didn't see nothin eitha.
DAY TWELVE: Cricket eats salamander in vulgar display of woodland celebrity deathmatch. Glad I didn't bet on that one. Home at last.
Saturday, July 01, 2006
TRAVEL ENTRY 1
See? Our vacation just started and already I'm lying! It's 8:40 AM and I'm still sitting like an exhausted lump of meat, in front of my computer. Delta had to go get 2 new tires for the boat trailer. But, I shall remain positive. The four hours late start will ENSURE that I-84 is drained of floodwater.
Grizzwalds! Mount up.
Grizzwalds! Mount up.
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