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Friday, November 13, 2009

Funny things seem to happen while having barfmeal...

So this Friday, like every Friday, I was at my parents house having coffee and barfmeal with my dad. Today, we mixed it up a little though, I had a tomato sandwich ala Harriet The Spy instead of my usual english muffin, and my dad decided to invite Mr. Apple to accompany his barfmeal. This meant there was lots of extra crunching along with the regular barfmeal consumption and I was glad to have eaten my sammie before I lost my small feat, let me tell you. But barfmeal is not the point of this story, there was another knee slapping moment this morning, only this time, my mom got dad was the co-star and villain, and moms was definitely the hero.

My dad and I were sitting at the breakfast table, reading the paper...chatting...the ushe, and my mom came into the kitchen to prepare her lunch. As she was prepping, she was telling me how she maybe found a dress for my sister's wedding. So I was asking good daughter questions like "Where did you find it?" and "What color is it?" and "Who's the designer?"(yeah, right...I may watch Project Runway but I don't have a fashionable bone in my body). She was saying how she had been online looking for something and wasn't finding anything good, then by chance was at Carson's the night before, and then right in the middle of the story my mom was telling, I saw my dad lean all the way over and...BRRUUMMmmmbbBOMMMMPPPfffFFTTT...trumpet fart. I immediately began yelling at him, calling him disgusting, asking what was wrong with him. He claimed he didn't know it would be that loud, which...I call bullshit, Phil, a full lean means you know it's gonna be loud and powerful and you want to let it escape so you don't get blown into the air like Old Faithful. Anytoot, after my scolding he put the paper over his face, which at first I thought was him being ashamed. Then, I saw the paper shaking..."Dad, you scum, are you behind the paper laughing at yourself? Of course you are." He said "No, I'm reading the paper!" But he couldn't keep the paper upright, and sure enough, red-faced squinty Phil was there, laughing his head off at his own fart. He tried to cover again, saying he didn't mean to, it was an accident, I kept saying it was on purpose and then my mom chimed in..."Obviously he couldn't stand the fact that he wasn't getting any attention." One look at my mom and I nearly fell on the ground laughing. I actually was bent over double, trying to hold the belly jiggle to a minimum because that's how hard I was laughing. My dad laughed too, even though I had to repeat what my mom said twice, which kind of took away from the hilarity, but still...

Many of you may not think it's funny, laughing about farts. But if you know my family at all, then you know that laughing about farts is what we do...usually at the dinner table...and you love us for doing it. God knows I do.

Friday, November 6, 2009

Table for two...

There's that age-old question "If you could have dinner with anyone, dead or alive, who would you pick?". I've heard lots of different answers to this question, but most people will pick someone famous to sit down and break bread with. I've heard people say Jesus, Martin Luther King Jr., Bono(that would be The Joyous One's choice), Abraham Lincoln, Oprah(why doesn't anyone ever pick Gayle? She's the funny one! Don't tell Oprah I said that), Mother Teresa, Captain Kangaroo, and on and on and you get my drift. I just do not know what the hell I would say to any of those people..."uh, thanks...for...all that you've done for this world. Could you pass the butter?" Seriously, I would probably just sit there, jaw dropped to double chin level, and say nothing. Or even worse, say horribly dorky things(I do NOT do well with trying to act cool around anyone famous. Just ask...oh nevermind). I mean, I wouldn't even know where to begin with someone like Martin Luther King Jr. And Jesus? I would totally ask for the truth about Mary Magdalene and dinner would take a right turn down Awkward Avenue. But really, who would I want to eat dinner with, dead or alive?

There are 2 people whom I always seem to come back to when I REALLY think about this question. My cousin Sarah died November 22nd, the day before Thanksgiving, right before I turned 2 years old. She was 10, and died of Cystic Fibrosis. I was too young to remember her for myself, but my mom implanted a memory of her which I go back to occasionally. My parents took me to see Sarah at the hospital, but I was too young to go in, so they stood with me outside of her window, so she could see me, so we could wave to each other. I can picture myself doing this, and it makes me deeply sad to think about it. That seems silly to me, since I don't remember her, I feel like maybe I don't get to be sad about her. Not that there are rules to this kind of thing, I just don't want to step on the toes of the people who do remember. Maybe I should just stop trying to be polite and let myself feel however I want. I wish I could meet her again, I'd like to get to know her, I'd like to have dinner with her. She made me a tooth fairy pillow out of washcloths and safety pins when she was in the hospital. I've asked my mom about it several times throughout my life, she's always told me she knew exactly where it was, but she's never given it to me. This weekend I asked for it again, she asked what it was worth to me...without thinking I said "A million dollars. No, it's worth more than that." Looks like I'm finally getting my tooth fairy pillow. And maybe someday, I'll get that dinner with my cousin.

My Grandpa Kroker died before I was born. He was young, 62 I believe. When I look at pictures of him, I can see where I get my penchant for pulling a funny face every time a camera is pointed at me. Stories about my grandpa and his brother Leo are legendary, I could listen to those stories for hours...and I have. He just seemed so so fun, I'd like to get a chance to laugh with him for awhile. I think about how different our childhood trips to Auburn would have been if he were alive. I can see him pretending to sleep in a lawn chair, then jumping up and scaring Emily and I as we crept closer to investigate. I can picture myself trying to impress him from way up in the backyard tree. I see Emily on his shoulders, and me being jealous. I imagine both of us in footie pajamas, curled up on the couch with him, Emily with her cugger and doll, me being pissed that my pj's were pink. I can almost feel the sheer joy of being able to wake up with him and my grandma being in the same house as us. Man, what a strange feeling, missing something I've never had.

Don't get me wrong, I am a very lucky person. I LOVE all of the crazy, hilarious, lovely, talented people I'm blessed to know. I'm not trying to dwell on what I've missed in my life, it's just the last time I was faced with that question, I started to think about what I really want. And as much as I'd love to meet Oprah, I would blow her off in a second if it meant even a moment in time with Sarah, or a splash of a day with my Grandpa Kroker.

Thursday, November 5, 2009

Ohhh, only in my real as it may seem, it was only in my dream...

So last night, I had a dream that I caught The Joyous One at the Brookfield Zoo with another woman. A blonde haired woman. In the dream, I was totally fine with this indiscretion, I even encouraged it. I can recall saying to The Joyous One upon catching her, "I don't want to hold you back, if you like this girl, go for it. She's cute, and nice!" As the dream progressed, The Joyous One kept seeing this girl, and stayed married to me, and I was completely fine with all of it. Then, my friend Jessica's ex-boyfriend blew up my grade school, and I woke up as we(Jessica, The Joyous One, ol' blondie and I) were escaping...I hope we made it. Anybombsquad, I blinked a few times, remembering the dream...and I was mad. Apparently awake-Meta? Is not so cool w/ The Joyous One having a side of girlfriend.

The more awake I got, the angrier I got, and not just about the fact that The Joyous One had a floozie. I was also mad that she took the floozie to the zoo-zie. The Joyous One never takes me to the zoo and you know who loves the zoo? This girl! Luckily(for her), The Joyous One was caught near the South Entrance of the zoo, and not in the wombat exhibit...that would have been like a Catholic canoodling with another religion in the Vatican! Had she been caught in the wombats, well, I don't want to say what would have happened, but a chokehold may have been involved.

Anyadulterer, I told The Joyous One about the dream, but didn't mention being angry. I brushed it off as funny, because I didn't want her thinking I was mad at her. I know it's not her fault she dream-cheated! To be fair, there was no *cough* physical evidence that cheating was going on, but the implication was definitely there. But it's hard to resist The Joyous One, I KNOW dream-skeeze was was all up on her like peanut butter to jelly.

I had to keep telling myself that this was a dream, it didn't happen, The Joyous One did not have a side-skank, Whittier was not blown to smithereens, it was just a dream. Of course, asking The Joyous One how her girlfriend was when on the phone with her this morning makes it seem like I still don't grasp the whole "just a dream" thing. But I do now, at nearly 2pm I get it. It was just a dream.

I have to say, I was slightly surprised by my reaction to this dream. I'm fairly laid back about most things(yes, super uppity about other things, I know. Shut up, friends of mine). I used to think I would be okay with letting go if whoever I was with found someone they were better suited for. Apparently, dream-Meta is still like that, but after my boiling anger this morning, I think it's safe to say awake-Meta is not going down without a fight. Oh no, hell no.