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

We Win

September 03, 2004 ... 10:31 a.m.

Ernie: “You better be packing Excalibur, baby, cuz you don’t want none of this.”

Dubya’s in town today. I’d go heckle him, but they’re only allowing pre-selected registered Republicans with tickets to see him. In a public park.

Check that link out. Parking is allowed at Boyson ... and Hawkeye Downs. Hawkeye Downs is as far to one side of town as the public park is to the other. They could not possibly be farther apart.

Brilliant!

A few weeks ago, he spoke at my college, once again allowing only pre-selected registered Republicans with tickets to see him.

Real “Man of the People” there, boy.

FOOTBALL TOMORROW! YAY!!! Throwback Game against Kent State. We win. I’m getting a bit ahead of myself, but we win. It’s at Kinnick--we don’t lose at home. Hayden Fry will be there. We win.

If you go to that link and scroll down to the third picture, I think, you can see what I’m wearing tomorrow. I am wearing a replica 1930’s cheerleader uniform. Only mine is in black. I already own my own saddle shoes.

Hi. I’m a dork.

Ernie’s wearing white pants and vintage looking letter sweater. He put the kibosh on the zoot suit. Stick in the mud.

We’ll be leaving early, early, early. He’s filled his cooler up already. Beer (for him), Coke (for me), chicken, barbeque sauce, brats and my favorite--cheddarwurst. Brats (bratwurst) with cheddar inside! It’s ... it’s ... it’s the food of the Gods!!!

It’s the simple things in life that please me the most. Seriously cheese IN a brat! What’s next?

Cousin#1 is bringing the grill and, no doubt, more beer. Possibly some hot dogs.

My local radio station, KZIA held a program called Football 101 a few nights ago, where they taught the very basic concepts of football to the tragically uninformed. Whatever. BUT their advertising slogan for this was “Football 101--Do you want to learn more about football so you can impress that single guy?"

Seriously, what the crap? Come to my house sometime. I cannot tell you how many guys I know that don't know a field goal from a punt. Oh wait, yes I can--ALL (but three) of them. They have no clue. Don't call my house on Saturday, Sunday or Monday nights. I will not answer unless you are bleeding profusely. And, even then, maybe.

And basketball season? Please.

There will be no football widows in my house, if anything there will be football widower.

Besides ... large, muscular men in tight pants hitting each other every weekend? How could I NOT love it?

So, I have been able resurrect some of my earlier plans. Plans that involve WSU. And--get this--Mom was like “Ogden (Utah)? Grandpa has family there.”

Hope breaks anew.

Eibisch: “Well, but, you wouldn’t like Utah, right?”
Mom: “Haven’t been there for a while. Why?”
Eibisch: “Cause you said you’d move ...”
Mom: “Not for college--you’re on your own there, missy.”

It’s like the sun has broken through the clouds.

Eibisch: “What if I get a job in Utah?”
Mom: “Meh. I can drive to Utah. I don’t have to live there.”

HALLELUJAH!

Woo-hoo! She’s actually cool with WSU. So, if nothing else goes wrong, I will be in Utah by this time next year. Maybe sooner, if I can get an extra class or two next term.

SCORE!

For the last several weeks, I’ve been thinking about marriage and kids. Specifically, that I may not want those things. It makes me feel very odd because, for a long time, that’s all I wanted. To be a mom. I think a lot of this has to do with my ex-brother’s situation. That whole thing still cuts like a knife, it’s no longer white hot, but it hurts. Especially at times like his birthday or the first day of school or when I take Brittany to a kiddie movie. I got a huge, painful lump in my throat when I saw the trailer for “The Polar Express” the first time--that was a book I think is wonderful and read to him often.

It’s just silly times like that and I feel kind of stupid for feeling that way because of a commercial. And I don‘t want “a baby to love me”. In fact, I want to slap people who say that because--NEWSFLASH--babies do NOT “love” you! They depend on you, which is very different. Maybe I should say infant instead of baby?

I’m usually okay with it and even joke about embracing my spinsterhood. But those aforementioned times or late at night or whatever, I feel a terrible sense of loss.

I know, I know. I’m “only” 27. But that’s just it. I’m 27. And single. With no immediate prospects. The only single guys I know are Pinball, Ernie, Oscar and Nick.

Pinball spends more time on his hair than I spend in a bathroom all month.
Ernie and I jumped the shark as anything more than friends long ago.
Oscar is ... well, Oscar.
Nick is 41. Nick has been married. PEOPLE! I was in Kindergarten when Nick got married. And I think that says it all.

Lord, that’s freaky.

People, there aren’t even single guys at my church.

Anyway, that’s been my thinking for a while. But then my friend and her husband go to Ethiopia to adopt 3 children. And I sit here and read their email updates and read about all the beautiful children still there who want, need and deserve a good home and my heart aches. It just aches. And I always allow a shimmer of hope to plant with each of those emails. I know I do it and I know I will never stop doing that. I also know that, when I stop and really take stock of my life, I have to rip out the little bit of hope because I know it will not happen for me.

And, even if I wanted to stop reading her emails or journals, it wouldn’t matter. Because, every so often, I see a little boy in my dreams. I know this little boy, he’s my little boy and he’s always about 2, blond hair and blue eyes (even in my DREAMS I can’t escape it) and I know his name. And he’s not going to exist.

That sucks.

They are STILL building the house next door. It has now been six months. And this morning, at 6:06 am, they began work by turning their stereo up to the maximum level. I was awakened by Janet Jackson singing “Escapade”. All day yesterday was disco music, which I liked, but further convinced me that these guys are the gayest construction crew in history.

Currently Reading: Something Rotten by Jasper Fforde
Friday! HA! Brilliant!

Listening To: Bon Jovi
...let’s play doctor, baby, cure my disease...

Have a happy day!

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