The Pilgrims Secret Weapon: Kool-Aid

On my annual trek to the coast to celebrate Thanksgiving, my father told me the story of the pilgrims. I thought to share it with you...

"So the pilgrims came and they settled somewhere, Jonestown I think. The first year they were starving and the Indians saved them. By the second year the pilgrims killed all the Indians and took their land."

It's been awhile...

I have started this new "program" of waking up early to work out and going to bed early. Being a grown up is hard work. I am missing all the best tv at night. But I guess it's worth it to be to work on time (for the most part).

Speaking of work, things with McGee ebb and flow craziness. Recently, Supermommy came to see me and McGee was overwhelmed by her pregnancy. Which turned into a long discussion of her own children's births. MCGee stated she pulled her youngest child out of her va-jay-jay herself, so now I have this Lion King image of her holding the baby up for everyone in the delivery room to see. I have retold this story several times and have yet to tell it with out reaching down and simulating the pull-out process.

I guess it goes with out saying that I have searched out safe places to get my work done. I have found an office that no one is using and it has become my hide-a-way.

I have also been studying for my licensure exams. Or sometimes thinking about studying. I wonder if I will ever feel prepared for this test. Sigh.

So far the best part of my late spring life has been selling blueberries with my dad and other family members. It has been wonderful seeing my peeps and watching my dad socialize with everyone while he eats all the fair type food.

That sums up my last month of life. What's shaking with you?

Happy S.A.D. And Screw You All I'm Going Home...


I get that I have offended Cupid. Probably due to my lack of a romantic relationship since Milli Vanilli was considered talented. I guess when you put your career over love, small babies with arrows get pissed. So far the highlights of S.A.D. -past included:

*The police ransacking my room looking for stolen goods that my brother "found" (aka stole out of the car belonging to a DEA agent).

*My mother checking herself into a psych ward, as a revenge tactic, then truly becoming psychotic. If I never see cheap cigarettes again it will be too soon.

While most people think today means hearts, flowers and all things beautiful, I just hope to make it through the day without an anvil dropping on my head.

This year the baby curse stayed true and I found myself stuck in an office for 4 hours with a coworker who I like to call McGee. Who, in case you read this blog, is the same person who told me that my eggs would turn to dust in 6 months and 16 days (not that I'm counting). Normally I can tune her out with online radio , fleeing to another office, or thoughts of alcoholic beverages, but then Cupid came to town. And I found out that I get to spend more time than normal with her every Thursday from now until retirement. As if I don't want to gouge my eyes balls out with a soup spoon enough. That would be a worker's comp right?

She stayed true to form today, and when talking to a woman who was African American, while watching a movie that had an African American woman in it, McGee says, "See she's just like you...(awkward pause in which I think WTF)... you know because she has two kids." Yeah sure.

The last and final blow to the grain of sand I call my dignity came when I spent dinner with my dad and his girlfriend. That's right folks, I was the third wheel on Valentine's Day. With my dad. Babies with Arrows, 3 Lorelai, 0. Game. Set. Match.

The Fart Fest

My dad has not been feeling well these last few months. I have taken him to the emergency room, and to out-patient surgery for different tests enough times to recognize the morning staff of his hospital. I have been terrified that 55 is the new 54 in our family. To make matters worse they couldn't seem to find what was wrong with him, which made everything scarier. I have done as much as I can to not think about my dad being sick, which means there has been a lot of stress eating (mmmmm chinese buffet).

On Friday I picked him up at 6am for yet another test. This time they were doing a colonoscopy and I was sure they would find cancer. I was in a funk all week trying not to think of the C word. After waiting for an hour and a half to get called back his procedure was surprisingly short. After about 20 minutes of scoping his insides the Doctor came in and told me it wasn't cancer or polyps, rather IBS and diverticulosis (which is the precursor to diverticulitis). Apparently having both is like a catch 22 of gastro-intestinal pain. But since it's not cancer, I can handle it.

I had been trying really hard to think of something funny all week. Apparently I needed to look no further than the recovery room where my dad lay resting. As I sat by him waiting for him to wake up, a nurse came up and said, "Would you like to see the pictures?" Before I could say no (which I would have done, since I really don't want to see his insides) this page was thrust in my face and she said, "Here is your father's anus and this is the camera as it is going inside." Holy crap she showed me a picture of my father being probed! Coming from a family that doesn't even use the word "anus", I was in a place of major inappropriateness and all I could do was try not to laugh. As my father became more awake I looked around the busy recovery room and noticed I was hearing weird nosies. It took me a sec to figure out what I was hearing was the fart fest that comes after a colonoscopy. My immature self thought this was hilarious and I couldn't help but laugh. The nurses became the cheerleaders of all the patients, encouraging them to let one rip and praising them for a particularly good blast. As I sat there, having people of all walks of life fart in my general direction, I couldn't help but feel like a fart was the best sound I had heard in a while. I was also very glad to have sinus problems and be unable to smell the love.

Because 10 Million Flies Can't Be Wrong

I was told that this was the slogan to the restaurant I dined at Saturday night. It was pretty accurate.

I also ended up being a chaperone on my dad's date. I thought it was a family dinner with her kids too, but instead I was a third wheel. I told my dad it made me feel uncomfortable, and I kid you not he said, "That wasn't a date!" To which I replied, "Did you not eat dinner and then dance with your girlfriend? Pretty much the definition of a date."

A Post About My Father

Friday my dad turned 55. Getting through this year has been one of the most stressful things I have ever done. My dad is perfectly healthy (although he is an occasional chain smoker), and the worst thing he had was the flu this winter. Even knowing this I have been terrified waiting for this day to come. Dad has a unique family history. His father and his father's father both died at 54. He has older siblings (none of whom died in their 54th year), and one told him he wouldn't know scared until he turned 54. But my dad is funny in that he would be okay with dying. Not to say he's suicidal, merely that he has lived a good life and he has no major regrets. I don't know if he has been worried at all this year, meanwhile I have been stress eating like a fiend for the last 3 weeks.

I am glad my dad is in a place of acceptance for what ever comes. I am so not there yet. I want him around for at least 55 more years. He needs to terrorize my future husband and make me laugh as we walk down the aisle. He needs to take my children to the ranch (or the gym/bagel shop) and teach them all about the things he loves (the gym/bagel shop/PBS). He needs to be there to talk with me and comfort me when my mother is falling apart. I need one stable parent.

I really did score getting him for a dad. He is amazingly supportive of his kids, as well anyone he meets. Just today I had two friends tell me they wished he was their dad.

One of my favorite dad memories happened when I was a sophomore in high school. I was sitting in class when a voice came over the speaker and told me my dad was picking me up for lunch. I thought I was the shit getting to miss cafeteria food. When I got to the car my brother was also there, and to be honest I was a little confused. My dad was not a pick you up take you to lunch guy. At first I thought someone died and he was trying to soften the blow with a milk shake (which is what he did when our dog died). Instead of McDonald's or Carl's Jr he took us to a homeless shelter. As we pulled up he talked to us about how important it was to help others. He knew the directer of the shelter, and so for lunch that day we served mashed potatoes and some meat with gravy. I remember thinking in that moment he was the coolest guy ever.

In recent years something I have treasured was going with him to see Paul McCartney. Dad is a big Beatles fan. As a child he used to tell me all about the stories behind the songs. He was so excited when we were old enough to fully appreciate "Let It Be." For as much as he loved the Beatles he never had the chance to see them in person. Over a year ago Paul went on tour and my dad and I drove 3 hours to see him. I sat next to him and cried as Paul sang all the songs that mean the most to my dad. I told him that I was crying because of Paul, but really it was because I knew how special that night was. There are moments in my life that I know are special even as I am experiencing them and that one. The plan was to stay in a hotel after the concert, but my dad was so jazzed up after the concert that he drove straight home talking about how great all the songs were. I tried to sleep as songs ran through my head.

On Friday night at dinner we reminisced about all the stories that come up when families are together. We laughed about his love for instant coffee and Seinfeld. And then he began singing "Happy Birthday" to himself when the cake came -- before anyone else was ready to sing, and even when we all joined in his voice was still the loudest.

Just so you don't think he is a paragon of virtue I should tell you he is basically a big ball of republicanism (who says he's "independent", but I call him on his voting record for the past 20 years). Since I am a big old Democrat this can lead to all sorts of fun debates. Last week he told me he wondered if global warming even existed. Sometimes I wonder if he says this stuff just so we'll argue. I can't wait for the presidential elections. He is also a workaholic who doesn't want to trouble others, so he does everything himself.

In honor of his birthday and Father's day I dedicate this post to my dad. Thanks for everthing you do, and here is to 55 more years of memories.