Weekend Update

Man, so much happened this weekend. Where to start...I know, the beginning is the logical choice USUALLY, but then it would go from fun to serious back to fun and we should keep all of our emotions organized, don't you think? OK, serious first.

Thursday, I took off of work because Gabi was puking everything up. No fever, just puking. Luckily, she only threw up once in my care (I have an inexplicable aversion to vomit and poop. As a mom, I've been told, I was supposed to get over that...no dice). By Friday, we were able to go ahead with our plans for the weekend. So, I took Gabi down to my parents' house in Wichita Falls (120 miles away and NOT in Kansas! That's Wichita, people. This is Wichita FALLS! That's especially for those of you in the airline industry. Sheesh). My dad had grown this massive pumpkin for Gabi. It had grown to about 70-ish pounds and he had carved a cute little face into it when it was still kinda small so it has this huge jack-o-lantern scar on it and Gabi and my dad were going to carve it and make a nice huge jack-o-lantern for their house out in the middle of nowhere that no one ever trick or treats at. But, you know, just in case. Anyway! So we had Saturday all planned out. I needed a break from my darling offspring and my mom and I were going to go shopping in the afternoon while the pumpkin was relieved of its guts and turned into a Halloween spectacle by Gabi and my dad. In the morning, my dad goes out and rides his bike (he likes to race). My mom and I had to do any "chores" in the morning to have adequate shopping time. Geddit? Am I making sense here? So my mom decides about 11:30 to go vote and pick up some vegetables for dinner that night. She said she'd be back around 12 and that's about what time Dad usually got in from his ride. At 12:03, the door opens. And there's my 58 year old father: torn jersey, blood dripping from his hands and knee, left arm held up by a couple of tubes (you know, like for your tires?). I get up from the kitchen table all "Whaaa.....?" And here comes the racing team dude with the bike. Apparently (thankfully), the team always sends a van out with the riders for minor bike repairs, water, and luckily, medical attention. Hey, remember what I said about vomit and poop? Well, I also have a problem with other people's blood. I simply cannot stand to watch other people bleed, but this is no time for my psychological quirks (of which, admittedly, I have many). Anyway, the racing team guy is all "We had an accident, he's OK, but he needs to go to the emergency room." I mean, the blood can easily be cleaned up, but obviously there are other things at play here to need the ER. I mean, aren't you supposed to say "My kid crashed his bike and had to go to the ER" instead of "My dad crashed his bike and had to go to the ER"?? So anyway, here I am. My mom's not back yet. If we take off and she comes back and no one's here, well...she's a calm woman, but I'd say that could cause some panic. So I look at my dad as the race team guy (Jarvis! that's his name!) removes the gauze on my dad's left hand. It's all swolen and just bleeding like crazy. I'm no doctor (obviously, since I can't take bodily fluids), but his ring and pinky fingers looked dislocated. And my dad, being almost overly-calm, is all..."OK, I'm going to go take a shower." Now, Jarvis was kind of like...uh, I don't think the ER cares, but I was used to this behavior. This one time when I was in high school, my dad was changing the oil in one of our cars and the jack gave out and sliced his neck open. Did we call an ambulance? Did we hop into the car and speed off to the hospital? No. He went and took a shower while my mom (VERY CALMLY) informed me that they would be out for a while. Geez, how could two incredibly calm people produce such an excitable child?? I'll never know. So anyway, I get this feeling that I am going to get in trouble if I call my mom. He is against alarming anyone that doesn't need to be alarmed. He does not think this is cause for alarm, I can tell. So Jarvis helps my dad out of his shredded jersey and my dad heads back to his room. Jarvis turns to go and pretends to go out the door...looks down the hall...then comes back in and gives me his card. "If he doesn't go to the ER, I want to know about it." I'm all, word up, yo. He's totally going if I have to drag him. And for once, I think I could actually take my dad down if I had to. So I listen for the water to come on for my dad's shower and out comes the cell phone. I call mom and luckily, she was just coming out of the grocery store. I told her what happened and man did she speed home. So long story short (too late!), my dad has a broken collarbone, stitches over two of his knuckles, and is basically wrapped up like a mummy with gauze because of all the road rash. This is the second time he has a) broken his collarbone and b) cracked his helmet...in 3 months. My poor mother. So obviously, our plans were shot. I felt bad because, honestly, this is no time for guests, especially when one of those guests is a 5 year old who really really has a lot of energy. My parents are good people and would still try to be gracious hosts even though my dad CLEARLY needed to rest and my mom CLEARLY needed to be giving all of her attention to him. So I decided to leave Saturday night instead of Sunday afternoon as had been planned before. They were disappointed, but they knew it was the right thing to do. Sigh. But my dad gave me a globe because as much as I love maps, I have no globe. That was nice of him. In addition to the cool globe, we also loaded up that hugeass pumpkin so Gabi could carve it at her Nana's house (the co-parent's mom). That was an interesting sight, I bet: me and my 105 pound mom loading a 70-ish pound pumpkin into my car with my dad, the one-armed-wonder trying to help. Towel-sling. It's the way to go in those situations. So I saw the finished product tonight and I must say, it looks pretty good. I hope to have pictures soon.

Back up to Friday night. I'm fiddling about on my parents' dialup, very frustrating, excruciatingly slow internet around 11:30. I love my parents dearly, but I often find myself very frustrated when I'm there for the weekend. The only time I get to have any kind of social life is Friday and Saturday. When I go to visit them, I have no social life for two weeks, basically. And also, I'm the only night-owl in the house, so I end up kind of lonely. I also miss my housework days and I get behind. I know, bitch bitch whine whine blah blah blah. So I'm playing games and watching some late night shows and my phone goes off. Hm. A text message. Who could it be from? Oh look. It's Captain Kangaroo...what the...? He has barely talked to me the past 3 months, and when he did, it was because I was right in his face and he could neither run nor hide. And I mean, he has NOT initiated conversation at all except for that one time he told me I was a "beautiful person." So needless to say, I was surprised. The message says:

"And I actually ?brought? your jacket tonight." Now, I don't know if those question marks were for emphasis or....well, just read on.

I replied very cordially with, "Dammit! Just my luck! Thank you so much for bringing it. Can you bring it next weekend?"

CK: "I will forget by then!"

I'm not sure exactly what I said here, but it was along the lines of "Well, write yourself a note!"

CK: "Whateva!" (which I hate!)

Me: "I HATE non-answers!" (see?)

CK: (received before I could send previous msg) "You snooze, you lose!"

CK: "???" (in response to my hating)

Me: "Whateva equals non-answer! Sorry, I'm out of town and grumpy." And I must've said something about missing out because...

CK: "That and a whole lot more! Oh well! Somebody's loss."

Now, this is his adorable, very humble way of letting me know that I am missing out on a whole lot more than getting my jacket back, IYKWIM. I am QUITE surprised at this point.

Me: "That doesn't mean what I think it means...does it?"

CK: "Maybe..." and then he goes on to one of his catchphrases that he used to use when we would play TM tag at 2:00 in the morning before um...getting together. So basically, at this point I KNOW that he is propositioning me. He asks if this frightens me...

Me: "No, but only because I'm 120 miles away with no escape and YOU'RE DRUNK!"

CK: (this one's my favorite) "Your loss! (drive!)"

Me: "You'd be asleep by the time I got there" (which is totally true)

CK: "Been so long. Maybe mot [sic]" (I've never gotten to use sic before! Sweet!)

Me: "Well, since it's been so long, I'm sure you can wait another week or at least until Wednesday" (my usual night off)

CK: "Probably not"

Me: "What a TEASE!"

CK: "You know me so well!"

And that was the end of it. Now see, I'm wondering if those question marks in the first message really meant that he was kind of lying about bringing the jacket and wanted me to...ahem...come pick it up at his place. It was 11:30, so he knew I wasn't going to show up at the bar and he was most likely quite sauced at that point. I hate to overanalyze, so I'll just analyze. My pure speculation is that on some level, he misses me. We'll just have to see next weekend. Or, if he remembers, Wednesday. Now THAT would be interesting.

He wasn't out on Saturday, so I TM'd him and let him know that he was missing out, but I didn't get a response. Meh. I'm not going to even try to analyze that one because there are a myriad of reasons why he may not respond. But anyway, I got to hang out with Jessica and as always, we had a good time. Seriously, she is one of the funniest people I know and I AM PICKY ABOUT MY FUNNY! I wish I hadn't had that shot so I could remember what was so damn funny. Man, no more shots for me. The longer I go in between shots, the worse effect they have on me.

Geez, if I hear "The Dallas Cowboys' excruciating loss to the Green Bay Packers" ONE MORE TIME!!! I swear. I get it! They got crushed! Here, let me sum up the game. The Packers: barely had to punt, converted almost all of their 3rd downs, had a lot of 1st downs, caught a lot of footballs. The Cowboys: just the opposite. Yes, Parcells is pissed. Time to move on over to Drew Henson? Maybe. But as sports-guru Sevi pointed out, maybe it's time to move on over to a new offensive line. Stick to baseball, Sevi! Hee! Kidding! Speaking of whom, we had a great exchange tonight during the baseball game. Him, rooting for the Cards and me, rooting for the Sox:

Sevi: 3 rough days in a row coming up (referring to his work schedule)

Me: yeah, should be rough what with the Cards getting their arses kicked.

Sevi: you talk a lot of smack for someone who needs baseball rules explanations at frequent intervals.

Dang! Him and his "points." But at least I ask! Right? OK, anyway, it's laaaaaaaaaate! I should really go to bed. But I feel like I'm forgetting to say something...Oh well. See why I need a little recorder thing? I'll try to write it down if/when I remember. For now, toodle-loo!