Inspirational My ...

I had a friend in college. That sounded awkward. I have a friend who I see every Christmas whether we want to or not. I'm kidding. She moved to the other side of town and we keep missing each other. I need to email her. I call her "mom" but I consider her like an older sister. Always shot from the hip. She once told me, the older you got, the less you liked people. Oh… oh! That was the last time I saw her… guess I won't be sending that email… I'm kidding. 

 

Don't get me wrong, I still like people. I just don't go out of my way to kiss ass anymore. (yes, I'm still co-dependant on my crip circle, I've gone mean, not mad.) But now a good Friday night is watching six feet under with my husband and my favorite gal pal. A great Friday includes fondue. (yes, that was a cry for help.) and I still try to be nice. (shut up bob… please.)…

 

I'm not proud of it but I think my college friend would say "that's my girl." Yesterday I went to the grocery with Bobby and this lady begins to stalk me. First of all, why can't I ever have a male hunk stalker? See if a male hunky stalker called me inspirational, I could find a way to accept it. But no…

 

So this lady, I've never met walks up to bob, touches me on my shoulder and tells Bobby how special I am. And she leaves, going into the store. In my "nicer years" either I'd cry or I'd try to laugh her off.

 

I turned to bob and I say, "I'll give you 50 bucks if you go up to the lady and say, ya know, looks can be deceiving because my wife is actually a real bitch and my son is terrified of her." So. Only half of that statement would be a lie, no we will not discuss which half is false. Even more disturbing, I think I was serious.

 

I'm not special, I'm certainly not inspirational. When I think of someone inspirational, I think of a selfless giver. Now really does that sound like me? Please keep your comments to yourselves, especially the Crip Club. Its one thing to acknowledge I'm not inspirational. It's another to hear just how not I am.

 

Of course Bobby didn't do it. because he… well, I didn't have the cash on me and he isn't taking my paper iou's anymore. After my "under water basket weaving flea mart" idea…

 

So I spent the next 30 minutes zooming around Krogers trying to avoid my stalker. Because I was trying to speed up the process, I knew she would catch me with an odd assortment of stuff on my lap like toilet paper, syrup, and frozen peas. And ask why. And I would want to explain that it is two hours past my son's bedtime and I'm just trying to speed up the shopping progress. But of course all she would understand is "blah, blah, blah." Reinforcing how truly “special” I am.

 

I just love happy endings. I'm glad to say this story kinda frizzled out. The lady disappeared and we drove into the moonlight with two weeks of food.

 

And I realized, "mom" was right. I am getting meaner and blunter in my old age. Damn, she'll be proud of me. She taught me good     

 

 

vacation thrills

The other day I sent a happy birthday email to one of my best friends. He responded by saying he was having a great day with his husband in the wine country.

 

“bastards” I muttered, turning hulk green with envy. I wish I could say I couldn’t remember the last time I was in the wine country but I can… October 22, 1995.

 

I seem to be suffering from vacation frustrations. Last Christmas we decided we would take a small vacation in the fall. Hello Fall.

 

So I bring it up to Bobby. Ya think I’d asked him to sacrifice his son. That painful expression, “yes dear, just plan what you want and I’ll go.”

 

I remember in college we used to spend hours at this coffee house, surrounded by books, planning trips. My husband lacks the “planning is part of the romance” gene.

 

Orlando. We’ll go to Orlando. I boldly announced. He grunts. To tired for a fight. I didn’t really wanna go but every kid should go to Disney world. Our kid too. And he’ll probably love it when he’s not crying about trying another ride. Or pissed for the 45 time I denied him a 48 ounce drink in a Mickey’s head glass that cost the price of my favorite steak at Outback… Shit, maybe family vacations are overrated.

 

I’m kidding. Kinda, and I do wanna go to Orlando, just maybe when Nicholas is a little older.  He’s going through a weird phase where he think he’s scared and every ride has to be negotiable, him being almost in tears. It easier when he has a friend, if not its almost like pulling teeth.

 

Then for a second the spotlight shined on me. In reality Nicholas went on 3 trips this summer alone. With his cousins and grandparents, ya know, people he actually likes. And he didn’t know we are planning a vacation.

 

What if, for instance, I had a meeting regarding my seminars in say, Las Vegas. Bobby has to be my interpreter. I could set up a meeting for Wednesday. We’d had to leave like Monday morning, just to be sure we got there ok. We could leave Thursday but Friday would be better, ya know incase the 10 minutes morning runs over, a little. And because I’d be nervous, Bobby would have to distract me with shows, gambling, and meals.

 

I happily sighed for a second, before the guilt hit me. I couldn’t do that to Nicholas with family funds, my money hell yeah, but not family funds.

 

Man I was pissed. Mad at Nicholas that he was wishy washy about rides. Mad at myself that I was wishy washy about our destination and really pissed at Bobby that he doesn’t share my joy in planning a freaking vacation damnit.

After my anger subsided I realize maybe I was making this too hard. Nicholas never really asks to go to Disney but he always wants to go to Sea World. I want 20 minutes on a penny slot machine. And Bobby just hates the hassle of flying.

 

Sea world, a doable weekend drive. Friends there. Friends who can force Nicholas on rides. And because we would save money on airfare, I’d probably buy the 48 ounce drink in a shamu cup.

 

Another fall weekend we’ll send Nicholas to his cousins, and sneak across the border to a casino. I’ll get my casino fixed for a year and Bobby will be less-pouty, realizing this was the lesser of the harsh punishment called “vacation” I could have inflicted on him.

 

Until these weekend happen, I’ll second guess myself about Orlando or any exotic place I dream of. Then there will be a second, probably at sea world at the shamus show when Nicholas’ face will light up and Bobby and I will look at each other, amazed that we ever considered anything else.

 

Of course 25 minutes later we all are fighting about where to go next. But for that split second…

 

P.S. when dates are scheduled, I’ll email invitations, what good is a family vacation without friends to share my… “joy”