Before you know it, you're the crazy cat lady in the scary house

Another One

October 20, 2005 ... 2:06 p.m.

Oscar:“Just you wait … I’ll have a witty retort soon.”
Crickets:“Chirp.”

Yesterday the family got together for breakfast to celebrate the return of my Cousin#5, from Africa. She works in a squatter's camp and gets people to doctors and takes them meds for AIDS and HIV. She used to work at an orphanage and school for children with HIV/AIDS and she's going back in March to teach English at/around a group of orphanages and schools.

I had tried to beg off because, one, I am not a breakfast person and, two, I don't really like Cousin#5. I mean, her work is admirable and I'm proud of her for it, but she really isn't a very nice girl. Kind of two-faced, I guess.

But I was promised waffles and so I went. When waffles are promised resistance is futile. It was a good day, though. My grandma (who has Alzheimer's) was having a great day and seemed almost normal. Cousin#3 (Cousin#5's older sister), was accepted into the Dental Hygienist program at KCC two whole years before she was supposed to be accepted. Her husband is a bit disappointed because the program is really intensive and it means no kids for another 3-5 years. It's a point of contention between them. Maybe he should just get a goldfish.

Cousin#4 took the opportunity to announce that she and her husband are expecting their third baby. Michaela turns 4 this month, Abbi turns 3 in March, #3 debuts in May.

I am very jealous, happy for them but jealous, nonetheless. I just keep remind myself that God’s time and mine may not coincide and I’m okay wit that. For the most part. Besides, my kids will be way cuter and smarter than hers, so it’s only fair to allow the other kids the spotlight now.

I know, I know … once again, the dazzling light of my humility has nearly blinded you.

The highlight of the morning was when the waiter, who looked to be all of 12-years-old, spilled a tray of ice water on my sister. Well, okay, it was the highlight of MY morning. It was good times.

Bootsie had a date with a guy from high school--Alex. Nice guy, but chatty. And not chatty like me, apparently he only knew three topics--Oscar (mutual friend), basketball and cats. When he dropped her at home, he regaled us with tales of one of his sister's cats who is named Napoleon. I remember it because he told me 7 times in 12 minutes. And, after they went out for sushi and he stopped by his house to pick it up, he gave me a book to read. No, really. No. Really. A People's History of the United States. 688 pages.

Dude. Seriously? Some guy my sister went out with once just gave me homework. And even if I read all 688 pages--which, please, I think not--how does he plan to retrieve the book? If he asked her out again, I think she'd fake her own death. Or not, because actually she is coordinating his sister's wedding. I think that's a conflict of interest.

I have heard a lot from Alex. Alex emails me every other day with discussion questions. I am serious. It's … I … gah. How weird is that? He's a nice guy, but cripes. Plus, last night, Bootsie told him that I'm a JFK assassination conspiracy buff and now he thinks we're conspiracy theory kindred spirits or something. Now he wants us to watch Oliver Stone's "JFK" and discuss. Hello? I own the director's cut. I have it memorized. He can watch and discuss it with his sister's cats.

That’s mean. He really is a nice kid.

I have been battling bronchitis all week, which sucks. So I got cough syrup laced with codeine, which rules (and no longer makes me ill, so yay!). I loves me some codeine. I have the weirdest dreams on it. Like a couple of nights ago, I dreamt that Bootsie won some humanitarian (hahaha) award. And at the awards ceremony, she danced the tango with Marilyn Manson while two members of AC/DC sang a Shakira song, in Spanish, and danced like ballet dancers from the Russian part of "The Nutcracker" while dressed as a Canadian mariachi band.

And how did I know they were Canadian? They were wearing purple and fuschia satin with yellow stripes -- the gayest mariachi uniforms ever! HA! Take that, ya lousy, bacon-loving, Franco-phonic punks! That's for Avril!

I decided to stop taking it after I spent couple of hours receiving life advice from my new guru, who turned out to be a giant, talking koi.

I'm going to leave you with the clip that a local news station recently played to preview the lead story on their 10 p.m. newscast:

"You've heard about the problems of underage and binge drinking in Iowa City … tonight at 10, I'll tell you about the problem of drunk birds." (complete with pigeon footage!)

The lead story, people.

Currently Reading: The White by Deborah Larsen

Listening To: Plain White T’s Stop
... you had your chance, there’s no reason to cry about it now, you changed your plans, you better know that this is all your fault ...

Have a happy day!

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