Wicked, evil weekend ahead...

Dear Stephen,

How are you?  I've been running around like a chicken with my head cut off for the past few days, but otherwise I'm doing ok....as well as can be expected, on the eve of the 10th anniversary of 9/11.  This is NOT a weekend I look forward to, no matter WHAT year anniversary it is.  In past years, I have prayed, slept, read a book, just kept quietly to myself...tried not to think about it...I have lit a candle...I've tried to watch some of the footage of it on t.v., but I really cannot bring myself to sit there for very long to watch it.

I don't know how long Post Traumatic Stress Disorder affects a person...I should look into that, maybe.  Part of me just doesn't WANT to know, ya know?  Part of me just wants to yell LALALALALALA with my eyes and ears covered, and forget about the whole stupid mess.

So, this weekend is going to suck big fat donkey balls--sideways--with phlegm AND drool.

I'll be in a car for, oh, at least 6-8 hours tomorrow, trying to avoid any flooded highways that lead to New Jersey...we've already researched the route and it's going to blow chunks, through broken teeth and hellacious halitosis.  (Do you like these visual descriptions I'm suddenly coming up with out of nowhere?)  I am chuckling, actually. I guess I just amuse myself from time to time, what can I say?  I'm just weird.  So we are prepared to take a LOT of detours...this could prove to be a wicked shit-filled ride.

Once we get to the hotel, (with NO POOL I might add), we'll just have some dinner, relax and hit the hay. Then, Saturday, I'll wake up at 8:30 a.m., say prayers until 8:46 a.m., (when the planes hit the World Trade Center), cry a little most likely, (as I always do on that day), and hope that I don't see much of it on t.v.'s around the hotel or wherever the heck we'll be all day.  I know we have to go buy Pete some black pants...he can't find his one pair...(he wears shorts year round).  Otherwise, we're just going to hang out at the hotel and people that Pete and Florence know are going to come visit for awhile.

Sunday, we have to get up early...(or Pete and Flo have to...I may not)...to go to church. Now, I'm not a big churchy-type of person, and I especially do NOT want to hear someone preaching at me about the evils and sins of 9/11...I was there, I lived it, I know all about it first-hand, thankyouverymuch.

LALALALALALALALA!!!!!!    Ahem....

Then, after church, we have an hour and a half ride back to the hotel, an hour to relax, then we have to get ready to go to the funeral for Florence's long-time friend Gladys.  I am already preparing myself for the inevitable roller coaster ride of dealing with Florence's bipolar, depression and grief and Alzheimers all mixed together in a big, fat horrendously ugly mess for the next week or so.  It's gonna be so damned FUN for me, I just can't stand it.  (About as fun as a root canal, that is).

After the funeral, we'll have dinner with some of the family members and friends that Florence knows who will also be there, and after that, all hell will break loose and I'll be in a world of shit because Flo will go completely mental on me.  I'm gonna be ALREADY completely mental MYSELF because of 9/11, so yeah, this is gonna be a fucking thrill all weekend long.  Sux2Bme.  (I was going to get that on my license plate, when I lived in VA, but then I thought, "hmm, since I really hate people, why not put Sux2BU on it instead...oh, but I might get shot on the highway by some idiot who takes it personally." So instead, I chose SasCGrl....after my dog, Sassy).  Here in Pittsburgh, we don't have vanity plates.

Anyway, blah blah blah and all that crap. Where was I?

Oh yeah, so the sympathy card that I mailed to Melva's husband, at the only address I have ever had for Melva these past 15 years, came BACK to me, as "return to sender, no such number, no forwarding." Now, unless they MOVED recently and didn't TELL me, or their house was torn down, I'm really confused by that.  I wrote to Kevin to ask him what the heck was going on, but he hasn't answered me yet.  I don't know what else to do.  Melva's phone number is lost in my address book somewhere in this house, but I can't find the damned thing anywhere....and I didn't program it into my phone when she called ME the last time, like an idiot....so I'm just kinda feeling sad about that....not sure what to do, say, or think.  It just really confuses me.

Well, so that's MY life in the nutshell.  How are YOU doing?? Have you read my Q&A questions yet, and said to yourself, "Uhh, I am not releasing another SOLO album, you ditzy broad...so NO I'm not rehiring Lincoln and Moyes." (I kinda goofed that one up, sorry, I was in a delusional fog I guess). And the other one, a "We Are the World" kind of event, well, I expect your answer to be, "That would be a great idea for someone else to work on, actually, and I'd welcome another invitation to singing a line or two with them again, but as for ME creating something like that, well, I don't think that's gonna happen anytime soon." (I really wish I had asked you some other stuff...I feel like a bonehead...kicking myself).

Hey! There was a HUGE, long, white limousine that was on my street as I was approaching the corner, and it turned onto the road I was on, and zoomed past me....I said to the 2 mom's, "Well fellas, it's been fun SLUMMIN' witch-ya'll, but Steve Perry's limo is here to pick me up now, so I gotta go!" hehehehe

Good LORD that was ONE daydream I'd never had about you before in my life, but GREAT GOOGA MOOGA, it was a good one.  So, thanks for that.  I know you didn't do it, and I know that really wasn't YOU....but, it fed my imagination the rest of the afternoon, which was a welcome diversion.  Yeah, in my imagination, I said to myself, "Well, he must have gone to the house, seen that we weren't home, and now he'll go back to his hotel to rest awhile after such a long flight...he'll call me later, and we'll go have some pizza or something, and spend the evening laughing and listening to cool music, and just chillin'."

Ahhhhhh yes, that daydream sustained me the rest of the day.  Gawd, Stephen, I just love ya.

Well, I'm off to the wild blue yonder...(insert bugle:  DA-dada-DAHHH...CHARGE)!

Hope you have a great weekend, despite the bummerageingnationitudeishness.  (SIDE NOTE:  I was an English major in college...my geek friends and I would take a word, like "bummer" and add as many suffixes on the tail-end of it, as we possibly could...hence, "bummer-age-ing-nation-itude-ish-ness"....of 9/11).

I know, I'm a weirdo....insert Radio Head...."I'm a CREEP, I'm a weirdoooohhh, what the hell am I doin' here....I don't belong here...." (that was my most favorite song in the 90's because it described me quite well).  I've never really felt like I ever "belonged" anywhere, in my whole entire life, except in that damned Museum in DC.  I was born in the wrong decade, and from there, my life has mostly been chaos and consistent, continual connundrum, constantly causing me crap.  (I love alliteration too, geek English major me).

Gotta scoot to bed....oh crap, I gotta pack....sigh....ok, bye for now.

Love, Rebecca the strangest fan-blog-addict you've ever had.