Memorial

This is the post where I vent to myself about my family and how I feel so fucked up and in the process alienate myself and/or turn off anyone who's ever read this little rambling shambling attempt at a daily personal process. Maybe I am a pissy person, a real bitch. Maybe I am sick of going along with my cornfed kin. Every holiday is usually spent in some semi-expensive restaurant where they indulge in their appetites while Snowflake and I make due with the usual plethora of half baked potatoes, iceberg lettuce or "California" blend frozen fricking vegetables. For them it comes down to just one question- Where's the beef?

When my brother's trio arrived this morning we were all going to go out for pizza tonight. Fine. Cool. I was looking forward to staying overnight again and having a bonfire and enjoying the cottage one last time before they tear the ol' joint down. My mother wasn't involved in this really, but when we came back from a 90 degree three hour boat riding odyssey, suddenly it was martini time and on to the one restaurant I really hate up there. I decided to go home.

But not before that fucking idiot left his "Purple Gecko" martini on the low table while he went to the bathroom. It was just long enough for my beautiful boy to grab it and take a drink. Why does this have to happen? I was so pissed but I didn't say a word because I didn't want to be the usual family asshole. Then Big Pappy put me on the spot in front of the trio and my mother.

"You know Heidi, we can't help it because the two of you are vegetarians", he says.

"Why can't you just let me leave instead of making me look like a big asshole?" I said, "This morning we were going for pizza and now you're all going out for a big feast."

Dickwad chimes in "We just took the baby last night and had pizza, so I really don't want it again." I don't belive he has ever committed a thankless act of kindness in his entire life.

Big Pappy supportingly agrees, he does not want to consume any pizza either and why do I always have to be so difficult?

"You know, when have you EVER gone anywhere out of consideration for the two of us? huh? Never." Not even on my birthday which I just happen to share with my brother.

I was so damn mad it intensified while I was driving home and looking at Snowflake in the rearview he seemed zombified. I pulled over and ran around to the other side of the Slaab and checked him over. I really want to believe that he was zoned out from the sweltering afternoon in the sun and heat, but of course that evil little psychotic bastard that lives in the back of my head thinks maybe he is a little buzzed. I seem to always overanalyze and freak out. I start asking him questions, drilling him like a State Patrol officer on a bust.

"What's your dog's name?"

"Charlie"

"Who lives next door to you?"

"Bob & Cathy"

"What's my name?"

"Heidi Jo"

Yes, that's right, that's right, breathe deeply mamma-san, breathe. Perfect answers for a two year old.

He passed my sobriety test but I was still pissed thinking about the way my parents always seem to coddle my brother. I called my mother's cell phone and left a message and told her that when jackasses(aka 'dickwad' aka 'my brother') little boy is walking, I'll make sure to leave a big blue raspberry martini out just for him. I could never do something so stupid, not even unintentionally. Maybe my parents know they don't have to worry about me. They have already lost one son and I know they could never bear a repeat.

I'm just trying to figure out where I fit in. I just can't seem to find my place. Even in my own family.


Why is it that when you feel so bad, a little ray of light pops in just at the right moment and makes you feel human again, renews your hope in yourself? Thanks, neighbor, thank you.



holidays, family, dysfunction, nightmare, single parenting, the token vegetarian