Dear Stephen,
Hello there, you sexy beast. How are you doing? I hope your Monday has been a good one.
I am finally home from a less-than-thrilling weekend in New Jersey with Pete and his mom. We had to attend her best friend's Memorial Service, and then visit with some family members who are too damned lazy to drive to Pittsburgh to see her on their own. (Her own daughter lives in Connecticut, only 1.5 hours from where we were, yet she was "too busy" to come see her). GRRRR.
If I am not mistaken, I believe you have a daughter, correct? I think I have seen photos of her somewhere along the way, and I remember that she was very, very pretty. By now, you might even be a grandpa! I have no idea if you are, or not, but I know how much family means to you. It means a lot to me, too. So when Florence turns 90 years old, and her own daughter can't make it to her party, well, I have a bit of a problem with that. I told Pete, if that woman doesn't bother to see your mother at Thanksgiving, then I am all done with those people, and they are no longer welcome in my life. Cut the dead weight loose.
Anyway, Pete took me to the local mall and I saw this stupid looking cardboard cut-out of Paris Hilton, an arch-nemesis of mine, (I cannot STAND her, she is a total waste of human flesh), so I thought "Since I am a dork, I might as well get my photo taken with this hag."
So here it is...pardon the gum in my mouth...I didn't realize how zany I looked, but I FELT rather out of my mind at the time, so I guess that silly face of mine fits the mood. I mean, it was 9/11 and all, so my mood was actually quite dark, and I had a bad fit of crying Friday evening after we arrived at the hotel. That was partially credited to Florence, who had the "evil twin" show up at dinner. I'll tell you more about THAT little episode later. It was enough to push me over the edge though.
Oh, and on the way back home this evening, we saw this:
A bus that has the word JOURNEY on the back, sides, and front.
Pete says, "Hey look, your buddies are in front of us...should we honk and say hi?"
I said, "Get as close as you can and I'll jump onto the ladder and stow away with 'em!"
Of course, we both know that they don't label their own bus like that.
But it was kinda fun to pretend anyway.
Well, I will write more tomorrow. I am just glad to be home. I've had enough depressing crap for one weekend, that's for sure. I couldn't believe on CNN this morning, as we had breakfast at the hotel, these two bimbo chicks were sitting there, saying, "Well, 9/11 was here and nothing happened...but it COULD HAVE..." which just made me spit out my damned waffle and yell at the t.v.
"STOP DELIBERATELY PROJECTING FEAR INTO PEOPLE,
YOU STUPID MEDIA BITCHES!"
So...to re-cap....I had a PTSD panic attack episode Friday evening, after I had to deal with Florence's meltdown at Red Lobster during dinner, then I had to pretend I was fine all day on Saturday when I really wasn't, (hence the manic face of insanity with Paris Hilton), then we had to deal with a memorial service for a dead friend---I didn't even KNOW this woman, but I nearly started crying several times. Then of course, yesterday was 9/11, and it's everywhere on t.v., so I just read my book and didn't turn on the damned thing all weekend. However, it was on everywhere we went anyway. Soon they are going to have one of those "ONLY TWO DAYS UNTIL 9/11 SALE!!" at every department store, and within my lifetime, I guarantee that they'll turn it into a Broadway Musical, mark my words.
It's so disgusting, it really makes me feel sick to my stomach.
Then, today is the anniversary of my best friend Laurie's miscarriage...I remember that day so vividly, just like 9/11---like it was just yesterday. We held this little tiny premature baby who had no lungs formed yet, and couldn't breathe. It took him about 15 minutes to turn blue and die, there was nothing any doctor could do for him---but we all held him and talked to him and told him we loved him, and that we would miss him very much...I blubbered like a fool...that poor thing, he was so tiny...it broke my heart to just sit there helplessly, watching him suffocate, but Laurie insisted on spending time with him. His name was Sam, and he's buried in an unmarked grave because she couldn't afford a head stone.
He would have been 17 today.
So, enough sadness and insanity for ME this weekend thankyouverymuch.
And now the FUN begins, with Florence and her bipolar evil twin. Woooo what a fun life I lead.
I know you're jealous.
Ok, well, thanks for reading and enjoy your evening. I have to go for now.
Love you lots, (and I hope you had a better weekend than I did),
Rebecca
No comments:
Post a Comment