September 5, 2003

Secra and her Tots, August 2003

  • Nobody went to jail this time.

  • Nobody went to the emergency room, either.

  • Nobody had to rush a bloody cat to the veterinary hospital at one o'clock in the morning.

  • Nobody woke up and discovered that their dashboard had been disembowelled while they slept.

  • Nobody got drunk.

  • Nobody got anything pierced. (Although Daughter #2 is sporting a new evil clown tattoo on her inner right calf.)

  • Nobody wrecked their car or ran out of gas or accidentally ended up on the freeway.

  • Nobody raised an eyebrow when Mom ordered both a soft beef taco AND a crisp beef burrito at one sitting.

  • Nobody talked about the %$&# fudking California RECALL ELECTION.  Mostly they talked about the weather, and about TicTac's skyrocketing gas prices, and about the latest bodies being pulled out of Gary Ridgway's crawlspace.

  • Nobody killed anybody totally dead. At least, not while *I* was in town.

That's not to say that this latest trip to TicTac was completely without incident.

There was the Getting Lost on the Way To Grandma's House Incident, for instance: New Driver Jaymi and Nervous Passenger Mom cruising through the scariest part of White Center at sundown, with the car doors locked and the windows rolled up tighter than the Popemobile. There was the Misbehaving Underwire Incident. There was The French Onion Soup Appetizer Accidentally Served AFTER The Entree Incident. There was the Oh-Shidt-I've-Lost-My-Credit-Card! Incident. (Although I merely interpreted that one as a sign from the MasterCard gods, telling me that I'd spent enough money for one trip.) 

And then there was my vote for Most Surreal Incident of the weekend: The Pink Balloon Incident, wherein my seventeen-year-old son reached over and deliberately popped his twenty-year-old sister's pink balloon, in the middle of the Super Mall, prompting her to burst into tears. (Thereby prompting me to say something I never thought I would be saying to these two adult human beings, ever again: "If the two of you can't get along with each other, we're going home RIGHT NOW.")

Incidents? You want incidents? We got 'em by the bucketload in this family.

I'm always hoping for Oprah when I go home to TicTac: warm, fuzzy, intimate, reconciliatory. Lots of hugging and laughing. Lots of fence-mending. Lots of sitting around in bright sunny kitchens over steaming mugs of General Foods International Coffee, reminiscing about days -- and people -- gone by. Basically: I want the ten days I spend in TicTac every year to make up for the 355 days that I'm not there. Which is pretty unrealistic, when you think about it ... not to mention stoopid and immature and self-serving and totally embarrassing to admit.

But that's what I want.

The good news is that I did get my fair share of those warm fuzzy moments this year. I got to hang out with my mom for an afternoon, and with her nice gentleman friend Vince (who I like better and better, the more I get to know him). I got to spend some time with my sister, who once again is skinnier than I am [damn]. I got to have brunch with The World's Cutest Nephew, who continues to live up to the title. I got to eat Taco Time -- twice! -- and watch The MTV Music Video Awards -- twice! -- and wander around in shopping malls looking for baggy pants -- three times! I got to sleep late, sort of. (6:07 a.m. is late for a Sunday morning, right?)  I got to ride around in the passenger seat while two newly-licensed Tots took turns chauffering me around TicTac. I got to admire Daughter #2's newly-blonde hair. I got to spend an afternoon smelling shampoo at Long's Drugs, and another afternoon looking through old family photo albums at my ex-husband's house. I got to spend my nights in pretty guest rooms decorated with cabbage roses and potpourri. I got to take pictures and eat Hostess Chocolate Cupcakes and make snotty comparisons between the "meteorologists" in TicTac and the "meteorologists" in the Bay Area. (The verdict? They're all just a bunch of weather puppets.) Best of all: I got to do all of this stuff in the company of people I love most on the planet.

And yeah. OK. It wasn't Oprah. It's never Oprah, and one of these days I might actually figure that out in advance and quit expecting it to be.

Then again: it wasn't Jerry Springer, either. Things could be lots worse.

my sister debi with the world's cutest nephew, now age FOUR my mom will kill me when she finds out i've put this photo on the websitedaughter #1 driving her mom to the mallyou can tell he's ALREADY THINKING ABOUT IT
daughter #2 and son #only waiting for the limo son #only driving his mom to the malldinner at dino's: joel, jaymi, kacie & kylejerry springer will have to wait till next time
bad clowns!they grow up so damned fast
click to see enlarged image

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~ nil bastardum carborundum ~

i'll come back to journaling regularly again eventually. i promise.
i'm not depressed.
i haven't had a big revelatory *i don't want to do this anymore* moment this summer.
i haven't run out of stuff to say, or neglected to pay my webhosting bill, or forgotten how to type.
i've just been sort of distracted by life recently,
and i'm trying to work some things out,
and the bottom line is that i'm just not very interested in the online stuff right now.
i'll figure it all out eventually, though, and i'll come back as soon as i can.
stay tuned.