Vacation musings

On the last day of my trip, I got in trouble and received the 'silent treatment' from my father. I had planned to go to the zoo or the aquarium with my sister and brother. I know what you're saying already, 'what kind of loser goes to the zoo or the aquarium for the highlight of their vacation?' Especially because this zoo is the world's most horrible, politically incorrect zoo. Monkey cages are tiny and splattered with feces; they throw things at you because they are (rightfully) mad at the world. A huge lion lays lethargically in a cage exactly like the old fashioned one on the side of the Barnum and Bailey Animal Crackers box. Underneath the cage is a crappy sign that says 'Simba.' Indeed, last year we tried to report the zoo but nothing came of it. But it would be fun. The three of us never get a chance to go anywhere together, but when we do, it tends to be very carefree and leisurly. My sister ended up not being able to go because her friend saw a sign for free skin care consultations at Sephora. This opportunity clearly superseded the zoo or the aquarium.
My parents, noticing the time gap left between 'The Ellen Degeneris Show' and 'American Idol' later that evening, volunteered to go with my brother and I instead. Now don't get me wrong, I like doing things with my parents, but it's a totaly different vibe than taking a leisurly drive to observe some wildlife.
My parents got to it with the same zeal and authority as a couple of camp counselors, minus the T-shirts and the whistles. My father got busy plotting out the physics of available time verses possible ground cover and activities. Mom got to work on the hospitality element. By the time she mentioned the dreaded cooler, I was tired out. The cooler, THE harbinger of useless, endless errands. Luncheon meats would have to be bought, ice packs cooled.
Mom: "If we lunch on the beach after, we'll bring the tent, otherwise sand will get in your food. You don't want sand to get in your food. We need that tent for your brother. He's already red and I don't think he should be getting anymore sun."
Me: "We're not going camping, we just want to go for a drive. Just forget it." I was already thinking about the trip there, sitting in the back seat with my brother, getting windblown from the front window rolled down all the way, bobbing and weaving the ashes flicked carelessly out the driver's seat window. When I pointed out that the whole day was turning into a rigamarole, my dad got in a huff. He acted hurt, and thy gave up on the whole idea.
The wierd thing is that this doesn't happen when you have a boyfriend, this type of automatic regression. He's usually there with you, or as much of it was in my case, the idea of him is there at least. The last year we were together, he was supposed to take a trip down there with me for a week long vacation. He kept putting off buying the plane ticket. I kept hasseling him, and waiting to buy my ticket. Finally he said I should just buy it, he had to wait a little longer and would just pay the extra money, and if he wanted to cut the trip short, well, I could just go to the airport and they would switch it around to accomadate us. I wasn't too sure. THEN he said he wanted to drive down there. He seemed really excited about it, and kept talking about visiting my parents, and then driving around and doing our own thing, maybe going to some little B and B, and what not. But I was so uneasy, like I KNEW somehow this trip wasn't going to happen. I just knew part of him wasn't into it. Then, his mom got sick. I still believe that part is true, maybe I'm a shmuck. Some condition that required hospitalization and included possible transfusions. So of course, I was horrified, and couldn't say anything. I offered to stay with him, but he said to go, she might need surgery, but the condition wan't life threatening or anything. Bought the ex mom a card and went to my parents. Now, ex didn't really get along with his mom, but still. Halfway into my trip, when I askd him how his mom was, he told me blankly he never got around to visiting her over the weekend. When I got back from the vacation, I found out he never bothered to visit her at all. I was stunned, but what was I supposed to say? If I got pissed at him, I would also basically be accusing him of being a bad son, and what if something did then happen to the mom?

I'VE STILL GOT IT

Now I have to get it while the getting is hot!
Although I still (sadly) miss my ex, I am pleased to report that a 21 year old boy tried to pick me up tonight. It was a record low, and was obviously very flattering. I believe 21 is off limits, as it even exceeds the Demi/Ashton gap. I'm not going for any Guiness world records, it's just nice to think that maybe I can at least find a guy my own age. I was having doubts, considering all the guys on match.com who only want to date women 2-15 years younger than them. So screw them all, the pigs!

Damn, I wish I'd seen that Oprah. Now, Sheryl Crow seems like a real nice lady. I find it interesting that although she's always been described as 'strong' and independent, she too put her professional life on hold for a year for Francy-Pants and then got dumped to the curb like a crumbled up bottle of Gaterade. I don't know about Lance, but it seems like there are a lot of guys out there who get real nervous when you put them in front of your own career. That's so stupid. I would think a man who's lived through cancer would be appreciative of a woman who wanted to make sacrifices to be with him. And about his wife, I mean, what woman wouldn't relocate to France for a seemingly nice guy who's on his way to becoming an international superstar and who is recovering from cancer? Why is that pathetic? I guess you're just not supposed to give anything up anymore. I mean, you would give up where you live and your job if your kid had the opportunity to go to a better school, right? That would be courageous. But if you do it for a man, you're a sap. Sometimes you want to celebrate other parts of your life aside from your 'work' life, but you know what that means-Uh,Oh- she might expect something BACK, something EMOTIONAL. She let her guard down. She's just not attractive anymore. I guess I'm a litttle bitter.
The hospice vacation continues. We were loaded up into the van yesterday to finally go to the beach. For the first time in years, I barely fit into a one piece bathing suit, thanks to my mom's home cooking. But I was able to narrowly escape the 'maillot with skirt' style suit by pairing my bathing suit with a cotton miniskirt. I have been here for four days so far and I would like to make a list of what I've been fed: BLT's, chips, homemade macaroni and cheese, take out chinese, homemade pizza, German chocolate cake with cherry filling, molasses cookies, pancakes and sausage. On the ride to the beach, my sister and brother and I took turns complaining how 'wrong' the scale was in mom and dad's bathroom. It seems it's a good 5-10 pounds off. We hope. But unlike my younger brother and sister, there is nobody at home to be horrified by my acute weight gain.
And yes, we made a family field trip to Reed's Jewelers, to pick out the setting for the diamond my brother bought for his fiance. When we walked in, they were playing a song by Al Green, OUR old song, me and you-know-who's. I am always uncomfortable in those places because they are like a foreign country I am supposed to have visited. They speak a strange language and use words like carrots. My sister who's 29 knows what they are talking about but I do not. She brought along her three diamond rings to use as examples.But the only time I've seen the inside of a jewelry store was with the ex, who had gifted me diamond studs with embarrassing and cautious reserve. Then we went to the store because we had to exchange the studs because they were so small they were actually falling out through my ear hole. Jewelry stores also remind me of how he kept the earrings and any other piece of jewelry he gave me when he broke up with me. He sent all my stuff back in boxes but kept those and the one of a kind Native American jewelry. This was not because he was angry with me but because he 'didn't want me wearing it with anyone else." Huh?So helping my brother was bittersweet. I mean my God, I remember when I used to babysit with Mrs. BeenThere and we used to watch Love Boat. Now my baby brother is a big man getting married and I'm still waiting to find a man who doesn't expect to go dutch on a vacation.

OK Ms. DunThat, Mrs. BeenThere is here and I feel your pain.

For those who haven't met me yet, I'm Mrs.BeenThere and I have been Ms.DunThat's co-conspirator for about 25 years now.I am also spending the week with my parents. They decided to visit me this year in lieu of a vacation. My parents are odd birds. My dad has a PhD and my mom has two Masters degrees. My dad has written four books and is currently working on two more. My mom proofreads all his stuff and is his co-author on a number of articles. They are in perfect health and neither one of them is senile. Nevertheless, once their feet cross the threshold of my house, neither one of them can complete even the most simple task without assistance. They are unable to turn on the t.v by themselves or change the channel. They can't turn on the shower by themselves. They can't find objects that are right in front of their faces. I spend most of my time running around doing basic things for them. It is sort of like taking care of my two toddlers, except my parents are a lot more bossy.

So, here we both are, on the wrong side of 35 spending close to every waking hour with our parents! Becuase of the collective oddities of both of our families, we have to communicate via blog becuase we actually cannot communicate any other way when our families are around. Yesterday I tried to call her in the morning and after about 100 rings her grandfather finally shuffled to the phone and picked up. He demanded to know why, if I was calling from the East Coast, the caller ID showed a number from the midwest. I had to explain I still had my old cell phone that I used when I lived elsewhere. He wasn't buying it. He acted very suspiscious, like I was trying to pull one over on him. I finally got him to tell me that she had gone engagement ring shopping. For a brief moment my heart soared. I fantasized that Mrs. BeenThere had met the man of her dreams and would finally get hitched so my husband and I (who have no couple friends becuase every other married couple we know is horrifically boring) would actually have another cool couple to hang out with. OK, I know, she hasn't actually been on a date in a while so the chances of her finding a guy and getting hitched within 24 hours of the last time I spoke to her are slim, but hey, I can dream, can't I? Anyway, no such luck. She was going ring shopping with her little brother. Who I have known since he was in diapers. Who is now getting married. To an actual adult woman becuase he is an actual adult man and not an fourteen year old. Which means I am really, really old now. Depressing. So, anyway, I get grandpa off the phone (he didn't offer me any toothbrushes) and decided to call her later.

The next time I called her her father picked up. He started droning on about possibly using my name as a reference for some volunteer opportunity he was pursuing. Once again I felt horrifically old when I realized that the same man who used to drive me to the movies in eigth grade now considers me old enough to write a letter of reference for him. Which again underscores the fact that I am one old broad. So, anyway, the worst thing of it was I was just trying to call her quickly to tell her that Lance Armstrong's ex was on Oprah. Did anyone catch that? Lance Armstrong is (after Brad Pitt) possibly the most dangerous commitment-phobe out there. And now his wife was on t.v, presumably to ditch the dirt. Thank god for TIVO becuase her father droned on and on for close to twenty minutes. I was dying.

You know, I'm getting really really sick of Oprah. She always blames the woman for every crappy thing a man does to her. Take the interview with Lance's ex (who, by the way, looks exactly like Sheryl Crow) She is blaming herself for the fact that Lance Armstrong is basically a self-involved son of a gun. The basic gist of the interview was that she was saying that she lost herself in her marriage and became a 'yes woman' who didn't stand up for herself, which eventually led to her divorce.Oprah went into her whole "yeah girl, you women out there better wake up, if your man is mistreating you it is probably becuase you taught him to do that" routine. Ok, sure, I get it, no one is blameless in any situation, but COME ON. What I saw on that stage was a woman who fell in love with a man, sold her house, her car, and her DOG. Moved to France, got pregnant, and was just trying to hold it all together to support the man she loved. She should be blamed because she didn't ask for help? What about blaming him for never OFFERING to help??? A woman gives up a great life for you, has your babies, moves to the land of bad showers, rude people, and chain smokers (ok ok I hate France), cooks your meals and washes your dirty drawers and you never once think to ask "can I help you?" and it is HER FAULT when the marriage tanks!!! Get your ass off that bike and change a diaper already Lance!! Take your wife out to dinner!!Use some of that dough you won at the Tour-de-Fancy Pants France to fund a getaway weekend for her and some girlfriends!!! And what are we supposed to think about him ditching Sheryl Crow? A woman who had a great career, was independent, and was no "yes woman" as far as I could see. It didn't keep her from getting kicked to the curb once bicycle boy had had his fun. Can I get a witness, Ms. DunThat??? Oops, wait, I gotta go, my father is calling me from downstairs. He needs me to turn on the t.v. for him so he can watch C-Span.

I am on vacation

Yes, I am on vacation. Not at a tropical island, not in Vegas, not on a singles' cruise (something I probably should do considering I'm hurtling at the speed of light toward middle age.) I am at my parents. The plus side: They live 15 minutes away from the beach, and there is a thriving downtown with quaint stores and big city nightlife. The down side: There is a cold front, I have no access to a car and nobody wants to do anything.
That is not entirely fair. On Saturday night, my sister and her friend took me out to a biker bar. We were going to go to a nice club but there was no parking so we left. The allergy fueled flu that I'd had in New York had settled into an easily ignorable cold, so I grabbed the chance to go out. I danced to a few songs, dodging the 'octopus arms' that occasionally reached from behind me to secure the bump and grind position. There was a lot of cigarette smoke which I guess aggravated my condition because I couldn't speak for the next 24 hours and now I think I have walking brochitis. But at least I was out there.
That was the only time I've been out for three days, except when my dad brought me to the QwikMart to get some Tampons, where he stayed in the car, but gave me $4 to buy his Merit Menthols. I don't drive a car, and my sister doesn't like leaving the house during the day. I wake up in the morning and play Scrabble with my brother. My mother asks me what I'm going to eat. I watch old movies on TV, and watch my grandfather shuffle back and forth to the bathroom. This morning he brought out a cigar box filled with new toothbrushes and asked me to pick one. He says there's more where that came from, that he's got 100's of them. I play with the dogs for a little while. I read, and sometimes I take a bath.
I am 36 years old. I am on vacation but it looks more like i've checked into a hospice. This stuff only happens when you're single or in a stagnant relationship. Can anybody else relate? Mrs. BeenThere?

Last Monday my ex-Boyfriend pretended he didn't know me and the next night I had to work as a bathroom attendant.

Yes, this is true. As you know, my ex left me in the dust just a little over a year ago after 5.5 years. What you may not know is that I also left a teaching career to write and walk dogs. I also had to pick up some cater-waiter jobs. So here's how it went down: I was entering a restaurant to get a piece of lemon meringe pie. I was in my dog walking uniform, which that day was old droopy beige cords (with a tomato sauce stain on back of leg), scuffed sneakers, and weird sweater with pompom drawstring. Most importantly, I had on no make up and my hair was tied up and windblown; the top of the hairdo looked like a shark fin. That's what I was reminded of when I looked in the mirror after. Anyway so I enter the first door, there is a little hallway between the first and second door, with a glass panel to my left, through which sits one table where both diners are approx. 3 feet away from me. As I'm opening the second door I glance at that table and see my ex BF sitting with his ex wife. (They were seperated when we met.) He looked up at me too, we locked eyes for a moment, and then he returned to the conversation he was having with her without missing a beat. I guess the coward didn't have it in him to acknowledge me after spending 5+ years with me, after all she didn't know who I was. I don't even think she really knew I existed, as I realized later he was hedging his bets and dividing his emotions between the two of us our whole time together. Watching them was like watching a mental picture I had created that now moved on it's own accord. It was just sheer post traumatic pain.

Then I went to the corner store and bought a pack of cigarettes and smoked them. I have not heard from him and I guess after this, I never will. And if I do, I will be an idiot for talking to him. Then, at 11:30 at night, I got a call from a catering co. that wanted me to work for them as a bathroom attndant the next day. Yipee! I hadn't really worked for them yet, so I had to take the job to insure they would call me again.
The sad thing is, that when I saw him, I still wanted him. After 14 months. Oh God, I hope I don't get famous and he reads those words. I guess I can replace that part about wanting him with, 'He looked like an orange troll, I don't know what it was I saw in him in the first place.' My friend Sally told me if you're relationship (or breakup) with a guy seems like a Lifetime movie, it's probably not healthy for you. So I must listen to her.

I am finally going to get back to writing and maintaining this blog. The reason I havn't been writing is due to my chair. I tried to make a cozy writing area for myself. I bought a new rug, chair, and even hung up the painting that I had bought for my ex before he left me. It had been sitting in my closet for over a year. It is a lovely painting, and it is mine now. It is probably the most 'high class' thing that I own, which gives you an idea of who I treated better, him or myself. Anyway, the chair. It is one of those round, nest-style chairs and it is so comfortable, that when ever I sat down, I didn't feel like writing; only like watching TV or maybe reading. I had planned to do some writing this weekend, and was so depressed come Sun. night when all I had to show for the weekend was an empty DVR and a trail of cookie crumbs that had worked their way down my front and lodged themselves in my navel, that I started to feel really bad about myself. Not just because I havn't been able to write, but because my butt got bigger. Just when I was about to roll across the room into the bed, I found a new position in the chair that felt like the perfect writing position. I am hoping that this is a turnung point to get me out of my slump. I am in the position now, and here I am writing. So anyway, about dating. I havn't really bothered to update because it's been so boring. I had two dates, both of whom I compared with my boyfriend and who came up short, even though my boyfriend was an asshole. He did have other attributes. The first date seemed promising; I met the guy at a catering event, we exchanched numbers and then both saved eachothers numbers wrong. He actually tracked me down by calling the catering company! But then, on the date, he was a bizaare composite of annoying personalities. He kept talking about Bush, Russian literature, and 'faggots.' His voice was high and his teeth were shriveled and blackish, I can't believe I didn't notice that before.
The second date was fine; it was with an ER doctor who was short and bald, but not George Costanza short and bald. But he was pretty young for me, 30. We had a good time talking, but I didn't feel much of an attraction. Anyhow, he invited me to a concert and something else. Then I told him I was 36 (he thought I was about 32) and then I never heard from him again. Those are the only dates I've had in the 14 months since the breakup.