This is me and my beautiful little sister. Warhol style. It was her birthday this past weekend and we scheduled our Florida trip to coincide with it. I framed this image for a present. I also commissioned the endlessly talented Queen Bodacious (aka, "Dr. Ding") to whip up a little jewelry for her. Sister-the-Youngest loved it all. Reluctant birthday girl that she was, she had a great time.
We had so much fun. And got to watch her lovely daughter play softball and hang out with her sweet son. My mom and dad came down for the festivities. There was merriment. There were outdoor festivals. There was chocolate mousse cake.
I don't have a family member that lives less than a thousand miles away from me. I miss them greatly but it does make the visits pretty sweet.
On Friday night, Sister-the-Youngest and her best friend, who I affectionately call (Mr. Fabulous) "Anonymous," St. Barbara and I went out to the local gay bar for karaoke night. For the price of a $12 wristband, well drinks were free. I found the rum & coke fountain and made that $12 stretch like the fishes and loaves.
Ave Maria, did I get schnockered, plastered, lit, fucked-up, shit-faced, loaded, drunk off my ass.
What a great time. I danced. In public. I sang along with some bad karaoke. (I did NOT however, perform any karaoke...there isn't enough alcohol in the free world.)
When we got back to the house, the festivities continued. Well, that was the plan anyway. I walked into the master bathroom to use the toilet and passed the bed. The beginning of the end. However, when I lay my drunken self on the bed, it transformed into a Tilt-A-Wheel. Amazing. I slid off onto the floor, where the ride mercifully ended.
The next morning I woke up more hungover than I've been in 15 years. I stumbled to the bathroom and must have peed 30 proof urine. Swear. We had to sober up and get to the softball field. Where there were millions of people. Sonic boom level noises and blinding sunlight.
No regrets. Had a GREAT time.
Monday, March 30, 2009
good times in tampa
Monday, April 21, 2008
post vacation post
We have returned from visiting the parental units and adding the first two notches on our 30 stadium tour belt. A bit travel-weary but happy to be home. Trying to kick-start normal routines back to life but so far, not much luck.
Forced myself to go into the kitchen and whip up some dinner. My mother cooked for us every day and well, she managed to raise me without spoiling me so how could she undo all that hard work in one week? Anyhow, I thawed some flounder fillets and scrounged up a couple of lemons for marinade. Did you ever cut a lemon in half, dig out 8 seeds and begin squeezing the juice out only to have another eight seeds try to skydive onto your meal? You catch those and begin to squeeze with abandon, because surely there aren't any more in there, and watch another half dozen fly out. You fish those out only to have a few more slide by. This was the lemon I faced on my reluctant return to the kitchen. The Darwinian Champion of lemons. The Ron Jeremy of Citrus.*
*I realize lemon seeds are more symbolic of ova fecundity than phallic virility. However, the analogy doesn't work very well. We don't tend to look at a female and think, damn, that's a lot of corpus luteum for one woman!
Btw, Happy 420, all you people with the dopey smiles.
The following entries are odds and ends I wrote up offline while on vacation but didn't have the internet zen space to post. They're in no particular order...
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
vacation
This is most decidedly a gift of time. We have had our anger and our healing and now, now we have time to linger. Like sitting around a table after a particularly satisfying meal (food analogies = scripture for me), we enjoy slow lazy moments of reflection and contentment.
And of course, sometimes the contentment hits a snag. No matter, the ups and downs are not extreme but I am extremely grateful to be here.
Monday, April 14, 2008
café con leche & platanos
We're here in Florida, north of Tampa, in the community where my parents live. It's lovely and calm and has nothing to do with my everyday life. We went to a little Cuban/Puerto Rican coffee shop this morning for breakfast and café con leche. The locals (middle-aged and older hispanic men) sit around bitching, laughing and pontificating loudly. It was noisy and hectic and perfect. The waitress: "Un momento, Mami, I'll be back to take your order." I love that place.
However, I'm afraid I won't be blogging much, because there is always someone talking in the same room and it's not my house so I can't say, Could you people take your chatter elsewhere so I can think? You know, I can't say that. It's rude. I love them, they're my people. But haysoos cristo, I wish they'd give me a moment of quiet to write.
Mom, Barbara, my sister and I will be driving down to Miami Wednesday to see the Marlins beaten by play the Atlanta Braves. It's stadium #1 of 30 in St. Barbara's Major League Baseball Stadium Tour. It's going to be a blast.
Hey, everyone has quieted down! I think I can stretch this out a bit. My mom is so funny. She plans 12 meals in advance. I never thought of her as the quintessential (jewish, italian, irish, etc.) mother urging everyone to "eat, eat!" but she is certainly that. Thank goodness she's a great cook. My parents house doesn't look sterile or cold. It is very inviting and warm. But fucking surgically clean. Seriously, you could do emergency surgery on any horizontal surface. My mother is a cleaning machine. She's so good at it she has time left over for fun. I, on the other hand, am not so gifted.
The other thing I notice, again, is that my parents are even more cold-natured than I am. Their home thermostat is set to womb.
More later...