Me!

Oh don’t look so surprised.

I’ve been trying to write about this for the past ten days.  In fact I’m not that enthusiastic over writing it now.  I think if I put down it on paper/computer/blog it’ll become a glaring reality, where as chattering about it still allows for that hint of denial.

I’ll do it Mañana

This has been my decree for the past couple months over calling Gigi.  My excuses are numerous:  I don’t wanna talk to George (as I assume he’s cranky) and I certainly don’t want to talk to bipolar Mother-in-law – I don’t that really requires an explanation.  But not a day, or sometimes hour, goes by where I worry about Gigi and the baby’s health.

I’ve had dreams where the new baby girl is born and she’s perfect.  I even dreamt that I called Gigi and she told me that she understood, it’s ok and we can just move on.

The baby’s due in February.  About a week ago I asked Mother if she’d been checking the announcements from the newspaper back there which just happens to be online.  She said no and I got crabby. 

ME:  You macabre bitch, you check the obituaries daily.  Why aren’t you checking the birth announcements?

That’s whatcha call transference. 

She did pour over the archives and found no mention.

Nana was born six weeks premature, but just fine now.  Have I mentioned what a smart and crafty lil fart she is?  However during Gigi’s pregnancy with Nana, she never once had a seizure.  Fortunately Gigi’s case of epilepsy isn’t as severe as others who suffer weekly or debilitating daily seizures, and have to don a helmet to protect themselves.  While stress isn’t a culprit it can certainly exacerbate the condition. 

When I was ignoring Gigi’s calls she wasn’t looking for the money; she was afraid I’d taken a bunch of pills and OD’d.  After all, she was on the phone with me the whole time the therapist’s drama was taking place, and of course afterwards when I was sobbing on the phone.  She talked me out of taking a bunch of pills and going to a nearby bar and also asked me to please stop crying, otherwise she’d have to hop a plane to beat up the guy.

This pregnancy she’s suffered a few seizures.  It occurred to me a couple weeks ago that women have miscarriages at seven months.  When I relayed this to Mother she’d already thought of it as well and had been checking the obits.  But it’s up to the parents whether they want to name the child and bury her.  Of course then something else occurred to me a few days ago which I haven’t shared with Mom:  Funerals, burial plots and even tiny lil coffins cost money.  The fact that it indeed cost money to die is high on my lists of stupidities.  They couldn’t possibly afford that, and if so; what happens to that lil baby girl? 

I remember when Allie died and they asked me whether I’d like a private cremation.  A non-private cremation is a bunch of dead cats tossed into an incinerator together.  What happens if parents choose not to or can’t afford a burial for their child who never experienced a moment of life outside their Mother’s womb?  Do they, as they say, dispose of the body?  Does that mean a lifeless baby girl gets dumped along with the day’s garbage into the incinerator?

Just figured I'd throw my name in the pot as well.

I apologize for such a sour note, but I'm afraid this situation warrants public opinion.  In order to make a crucial decision regarding my life I must look to the populace vote.

Well at least South Park is amusing me by singing a song about voting between a Giant Douche or Turd Sandwich.  Oh the ironing of it all.

In this corner we have Gigi, friends since the age of 16.  Like myself she enjoys swearing, complaining and disliking most folks of the world.

When I returned to Kansas for Kaye's funeral I visited Gigi and got to meet her 2 year old baby girl.  You ever been out of touch from a friend for awhile only to feel like no time had passed when you met up again?  It felt like we were right back in high school; being married and having a kid was just a bonus.

Since we were assigned to everyone's dance card; dates and meetings had to be carefully coordinated.  We chose to get together at Old Chicago's for lunch.  Russ and I were a lil late showin up and as we happened on their booth it was obvious I'd missed something.  Gigi asked me to go to the bathroom with her.  I thought it was just for nostalgia sake, but as soon as we were in she burst into tears.  Her husband's grandparents had left him the house, but unfortunately while they were sick much of the bills had gone unpaid for months.  George had to drop out of college (just one semester left) and get a job to basically help get the utilities turned back on again.  However, even though the doctor said it was impossible, Gigi became pregnant again; and since she's epileptic that makes her high risk and she had to quit her job per doctor's orders.

So anyways she had fought with George in the car before arriving, and she felt bad as he often works double shifts.  It turned out their gas was shut off.  They were trying to pay it off, but the company refused to turn the heat back on until their account's debt was $0.  It was over $400 and for a family on their kind of budget it may as well have been $4,000.  I can see where one could take utilities for granted; we're not just talking the furnace here people:  Absolutely no hot water.  They literally had to heat water on the stove to take a bath.  Was it any wonder lil Nana was always sneezing?  Plus we have an incredibly vulnerable, high risk pregnant epileptic.

Looking back now I imagine the fight in the car consisted of George telling a rather reluctant Gigi to ask for money.  But the truth is the only thing I cared about was gettin their gas turned back on.  She had only asked for half of the money; rather half of the bill and the other half to buy groceries and diapers since George wouldn't get his check till the end of the week.  I went to Mother and she agreed with me:  We cleaned out Grandma's fridge, bought a bunch of diapers, bought a Walmart card to get Nana a winter coat and gave her money to pay the gas bill off.  

Now I know what you're thinking but you're wrong.  I was with her when she paid the bill off.  I was happy to do it, I wanted to do it -- nough said.  Plus Gigi and I were back together again.

A couple weeks later after returning home, I was on the phone with G (it had become a nightly ritual).  Everything was rosy and jake until she asked for $120.  They needed it to file for their taxes as George had neglected to do so for the past three years.  Then Gigi could enroll in this nursing school.  But you're 7 months pregnant, what's the point? In situations such as these I'm incapable of saying no; it's a terrible trait I inherited from Mother.  Oh yeah, they needed it buy Tuesday afternoon and it was Friday night.

I gave out smashing hints like ignoring the subject, mumbling incoherently or quickly changing the subject.  Tuesday night while on the phone with Gigi she informed me, "George is pissed at you."

ME: Huh?

GIGI: *whispering* You know the appointment was supposed to be today.

ME: Oh

GIGI: George said, "I'm gonna kill Brooke."

ME:  He did, did he?

GIGI: Yes but I jumped in said (this is the point in the conversation were I automatically assumed she'd be coming to my defense, and all would be better), "No, we can't kill her; we'll just beat her up."

ME: Ah

I quickly found a reason to get off the phone and haven't talked to her since.  It finally dawned on me that George had set up this appointment assuming I'd wire the money on over.

Despite it all I still wanna talk to Gigi again.  I'm worried about her health and the new baby.  I even sent 'em stuff from Harry and David's for Christmas, but I couldn't bring myself to answer the phone when she called to thank us.

Why must everything be so hard?  Say what you will, but in the end that is something I've always known and expected from Gigi.  I also know she absolutely doesn't judge and will always have your back and take your side.

In this corner we have Snookie who I met over the internet when I was 19 and I believe she was 25 (Note: the great thing about me is I can barely remember my age, let alone anyone else's).  Snookie and I also shared common interests like swearing, laughing at others and drinking.

Our communication has also been lax in the past few years; this is mostly due to my past dramas and desire to not drag everybody else in with me.  The last time I talked with her I was a complete chatter box, partially due to Vicodin and the fact that I hadn't spoken with her in awhile.  It seemed a lil odd that she was trying to find ways to get off the phone.  Just a few nights later Kaye passed away and I left her a message the next day about how we were headed over to Kansas and to please give me a call.

That call never came.

Oh well, bygones, yes?

We fixed up a lot of baskets this year to give away for Christmas:  Homemade cocoa mix and other goodies; those special items for your special folks and for those who we knew would be interested, the book Left to Tell.

For Snookie and her hubby's basket we included a variety of dried soup mixes and two large soup mugs -- seeing as how they live up in cold and rainy British Columbia eh?  And yes I did add the book also.

Since they'd recently moved we needed their new address.  Mother emailed and got a response a day later that said just a card would be fine.  Number one: Mother of course mentioned we had some goodies for her which is why we were in need of the address.  So for someone to say "don't bother" that's just downright rude in my book.  Numero 2: We received a Christmas card from them a few days later which just happened to be postmarked mere hours after she sent that email.

The card was dripping with religion, so much so I needed a shower afterwards.  Fine, so some of you feel more holy after viewing Mel Gibson's blockbuster Snuff flick, but if it's all the same to you, could you please stop using my sleeve to wipe the tarnish from your halos?

The card was bursting at the seams thanks to a 54 page letter.  This coming from a person who use to mock the proverbial "I'm cool and you're not" Christmas letter.  Oh well, at least it'll be nice to catch up and learn about the goin ons in her life.  Actually that information took up about two paragraphs; two small paragraphs.  The rest was blah, blah, blah, blah family; blah, blah, blah, new friends; blah, blah, blah, blah more about family.  

Well of course she's going to mention her family, they live all the way back in Wisconsin and she misses them.

Yeah except that in more than one family blah it mentioned how they all stayed connected, talked, messaged and email excessively.

Oh hmmm.

And then there was that small statement about, "Isn't it nice to find a group of people who have fun without drinking or smoking?"

TILT

First of all she used to be a drinker and a smoker.  In fact she told me that she was totally bummed out because she never became addicted to nicotine.  Also her Mother drinks, her father did when he was alive and one of her brothers owns bar.  Come on people, we're talking Catholics here.  

Now I understand new hubby never touches alcohol because he had an alcoholic step-father.  That's actually rather typical when a child witnesses the damaging effects a substance has over a parent or close relative.  Take Amy for example:  Never ever had an itch to try a cigarette.  Now after witnessing her Mother's decline has she become a judgmental harpy?  No, infact her husband enjoys the occasional pipe and Amy understands it's an individual choice.  However this is not the first man I've seen Snookie with and while the latest is by far my favorite, she has always had this tendency to gravitate towards their hobbies, ideals and beliefs.  And while I've never agreed with this behavior it's still her choice not to have an original thought.

Well I guess it's a bit obvious I'm still a lil sore over this.  So anyway never heard a peep from her, not even to share whether they received the basket or not.  The other night I sent an email that contained the following:


I know I've been absent and a shitty friend, but just because I haven't made an effort doesn't make me unavailable; I'll always be here and there.



I honestly have always felt that way about her and meant what I wrote.  Course I'm using past tense now as I'm feeling unsure for the first time in over 10 years.  Maybe I shoulda added: P.S. The first paragraph really says it all.

So what does she do after skimming the link I sent?  She unimaginably and disappointingly heads straight for the Letters From Jerks category, and just like she became just another face in the crowd.  Oh sure she's come back a few more times and actually bothered to read about me a bit, but I've still yet to receive a response, and that email was sent last Wednesday.

Alright let's tally up the votes and find out who truly sucks more ass.

Honestly I've been stayin away to keep myself  outta trouble.  I get all worked up over some silly thing some silly person had said on the net.  It's actually been quite theraputic and now I find myself unaffected by snippy lil comments, gossip, etc.  The only exception was the Father of one of the Primordial Dwarves featured inna documentary on Discover.  I was afraid I had insulted him, but it turned out he was jokin; so it was cool.

Anyways I'm doin a lot better and have lost about 50 pounds so far; my bloodwork in November showed everything was normal.

And besides complete and utter laziness I really don't have an excuse not to write as I'm currently using my new spiffy laptop, however the wireless connection doesn't reach all the way back to my bedroom; gotta get that fixed.

I need to call Susan, I noticed she hasn't written on her Blog since November.  She was scheduled for a procedure, just outpatient, but still involved a scapel.  Also her Mother was havin health problems.  So everyone do me a favor and run on over there, say hey and hope you're doin ok.