08.25.2002 - 4:25 p.m.
It's the end of the weekend
and the weather is grey and sorta dreary and you know, the whole
afternoon has that long-dark-teatime-of-the-soul feel to it.
It's 3:50, is that too early for vodka? Probably.
Yesterday my mom finally visited
the new house. You could compare the relationship JB and I have
with our mothers like this: JB's parents visited 2 weeks after
we had the new house, driving all the way up from Coos Bay, OR;
my mom just came over yesterday. From Port Angeles. In a plane,
so the trip took about 45 minutes.
My mom lives in Port Angeles
with a wonderfully nice man named John. He owns a Mooney plane, and he looks a bit like Santa
Claus. I'm happy that she has someone to be with. My parents
were divorced when I was 2, and she never had a boyfriend while
I was growing up. I'm glad she's not alone now.
We spent some time sitting
around in the backyard, grilling burgers and shooting the crap,
and then we took them back to the Renton airfield. On the way
there, JB was blathering to John about the XM satellite radio
he just had installed. You can listen to the same station from
New York to L.A, he enthused. John was excited to hear about
it and told my mom how great that seemed, never losing the station
you want to hear.
I don't know, she said. I kind
of like that about travelling, how you slowly lose one station
into static, and then eventually something new comes on. It lets
you know you're getting somewhere.
Well, said JB, what about when
you can only get country or some hellfire preacher or something?
Then, she said, you must fall
back on that old standby - conversation.
I sat there and thought how
much I enjoy what she has to say, and I don't know why we don't
spend more time together. Why I don't even know her phone number
without looking it up. Why neither one of us seems to be able
to reach out to the other.
We drove to the airport, and
stood by while they got in their plane. We waited until they
took off so we could wave at them. JB said to me, did your mom
hug you? No, I said. He said, it didn't really seem like there
was much of a goodbye. No, I said. I guess not. I guess maybe
we don't know how.
Today JB and I went to a driving
range in Bellevue. Annoyingly, he seems to be taken with golf
recently, having been sucked in by some business outings. I used
to play a little golf, and I thought hitting some balls today
would be easy - like riding a bike, it would all come flooding
back to me and the balls would be straight and true and fly hundreds
of yards away.
Oh, except even when I did
play golf, I sucked like an Electrolux.
And JB? He's like fucking Happy
Gilmore. No style, but he can hammer the shit out of a golf ball.
With each of my pathetic whiffs and ka-thunks and dammits,
he was sending balls into outer space.
It's not fair. Can't I be better
at one single stinking thing that he is?
Something other than "able
to fill the Brita so the next person who wants water doesn't
get screwed", please.
comments so far.
I have moved. - 1.03.2005
Obviously, a work in progress. - 12.27.2004
Happy holidays! - 12.24.2004
Listen, I am not a complete dick, it's not like I want Joe to die alone surrounded by cats or something. - 12.23.2004
Plus I am convinced my butt is extra big when it's upside down. - 12.22.2004