If you’re going to have company visit from another part of the country, its always good to make arrangements for the worst possible weather possible so that when they leave they can say, “Gee honey, aren’t we glad we don’t live where witty lives, since it was hotter than Satan’s nipple.”
Yeah, my friends finally got here from California. Tuesday? No. Wednesday? No. By then I was really starting to get worried and wrote her daughter an e-mail and asked her if she knew where they were, since 1) I was worried 2) I had canceled a Doctor’s appointment Tuesday afternoon in anticipation for their arrival 3) I had bought additional food for additional people.
I finally decided to just go to my art class Wednesday night since it seemed like they weren’t coming, but when I got home at 11 there were two messages on my machine. “Hi, we’re in Niagara Falls today. It was fun. We’ll be there sometime tomorrow” with “sometime” apparently being the operative word.
Because then she called again the next morning at 9 a.m. and said they were just leaving Niagara Falls and would be there in 2-3 hours. 4:30 that afternoon I was still sitting in my apartment wondering if, in fact, they HAD fallen into some watery vortex and ended up in Newfoundland. She finally called around 5 and said they were close to where I lived and could I suggest a place they could eat. I politely asked if I was invited.
Hell, I didn’t know.
She said of course I was. Of course I did have to drive across the city to meet them and that’s when I realized it was the hottest freaking day of the year. It was a 100 degrees with health and smog alert advisories.
So I found them in the restaurant….”S”, her idiot husband Bob, her grown son and his two kids, ages 2 and 5. They had already eaten by time I got there, but I wasn’t about to give up a free meal.
It was great seeing “S” though. We hugged. Bob kind of tilted his head down in apparent shame for badmouthing New York. And let me tell you…I let him have it every chance I got.
“So did you guys get car-jacked…you know, since you were driving through New York today?” Yeah, I was a total asshole. Yay me! 🙂
I did reiterate how small my apartment was, while I was eating, because I could just see 5 additional people jammed into my apartment and how nightmarish it would be. Especially with two pre-K kid running around banging on the piano and grabbing Guardcat’s tail. I already pay for one shrink bill. I don’t need another one for the cat.
So the son took the kids to a hotel near the airport and then him, Bob the Goofball and I were off to K-Mart since his son’s luggage was already winging its way to SFO and he was without clothes, food, diapers or formula for the kids. (Long story. Boring)
And it was at that point I remembered why I never liked Bob. Ever. I mean ever. He probably was very good looking when he was young. He’s now 68 and still looks pretty good for an old guy, which apparently is his license to hit on every.YOUNG.breathing.woman he comes in contact with.
So we go to K-Mart, right? His son goes off in search of underwear and diapers and Bob, who was dressed like he was going to a Beach Boy’s reunion concert (Hawaiian shirt left open to show off his white wifebeater and khaki shorts) starts chatting with these two very young K-Mart employees. They had to still be teenagers. And he’s like “So, I just flew in from California (heh, heh). I’m going to be casting a movie I’m making (heh heh). Yeah, I make movies….rec-reational movies (wink, wink).”
I pretty much thought I was either going to have to kick him in the balls or kick him in the balls, since these were only very young girls and that’s all the kind of crap he used to say to me when I would go to their house in my early 20’s. He was always leering at me and winking and flexing his arm muscles and rubbing my back. Ick! I had been offered a chance to move in with them a few years ago, but being in the same house with Mr. Skeevy just never sounded doable. Fortunately the girls laughed and walked away. Naturally later the cashier, who wasn’t even 18 (he asked!), got a dose of Sleaze Bob Sponge Pants too. Poor girl. I’ll just fast-forward through the rest of Bob in the car stuff and say I was glad to get back to the hotel room where my friend “S” was with her two rambunctious grandkids.
So we left her son and kids there and she went in my car with Bob following. Oh! So many opportunities to lose him as I drove through our thriving metropolis. He even honked once when I had the wrong directional on. The nerve! We finally got back here and they brought up so much luggage it looked like they were staying for a week. Guardcat, of course, immediately hid under my bed in stark terror.
Humans! In witty’s apartment? Wtf??
Fortunately after talking for about an hour, Bob trundled off to bed, making sure I saw him in his awesomely manly pajama bottoms and wifebeater. Woo! Then S and I could finally talk. It was nice catching up on our similarly dysfunctional family units.
I was also happy that she finally got to see my artwork. She hadn’t visited since I had started doing art. She said she was perplexed at how I could have so many talents…writing, art, photography and yet feel so unconfident. But her pep talk made me feel really good. And it also felt good to have a friend who I know loves me unconditionally. They did leave the next morning, but not before I put Mr Macho to work doing small menial tasks around my apartment like getting my living room window unstuck and replacing smoke alarm batteries. Heh!
It finally cooled off today fortunately! I had a board meeting with my art group at a small funky coffee house down in the artsy hippie part of town. When I went in the unisex bathroom before the meeting, they had a small delicately crafted needlepoint up on the wall that said “Have a Nice Poop.” Pretty classy, huh?
And then I drove over to my favorite lake tonight for a hike after dinner. I hadn’t been over there in about a week and really wanted to take advantage of the nice evening.
When I got there, I bumped into a guy from our art class board who wasn’t at our board meeting today. He had skipped out for a much higher cause….a meeting for a charity event. He made sure I knew that too. And then his wife asked me what kind of car I had. I said it was a Subaru and she put her hand on her hip and said, “Wow, that sure is old!”
She could have at least added “piece of crap” And then “And I can’t believe its still running” And then maybe finished up with “And I bet its contributing royally to global warming with that hole in its muffler!”
I didn’t really have an answer for her other than nodding silently with a striken look of shame. Yup. Its old all righty!
I finally got started on my hike and stopped when I saw a small group of people gathered looking up. Yeah, I always fall for that too. I finally asked what we were looking at and it was some big white owls in the trees. I told the woman I had never seen any owls before and I hiked there all the time. She said she was from Chicago and this was her first visit and those were her sons photographing the owls, etc. etc. And then this runner guy stopped and he was looking up there too and then we all were chatting a little.
I finally continued on but noticed I really had to pee. I mean REALLLLLLY!!!!!! As in I was walking along thinking…eeeeee…I wonder if I could wander off the trail and squat. Or maybe surreptitiously kick off my panties and just sort of trickle (I was wearing a sundress). Or maybe even just step into the lake and become one with the water. Because I was really starting to feel in-pain. And I was about a half mile from the bathrooms. Argh!
So I quickly turned around and headed back. When nobody was walking towards me, I’d even hold myself. Yeah, that’s how serious it was. Ow! And then I came upon that runner guy again. He was still standing in the same place, looking up at the owls. And gee, suddenly I was looking at him and he looked pretty damn delicious.
Mid to late 40’s. Dark salt and pepper brown hair…tousled. Dark eyes. Gold rimmed glasses. Shorts.
NO SHIRT WITH A LOVELY PERFECTLY CHISELED CHEST.
So I stopped. Pee-pain notwithstanding and said, “So, is the owl still up there?” Knowing, of course, full well that Mr. Owl was still flying around making owl love calls or whatever-da-fuck because I could hear him. He said yes and then he looked over at me, apparently in my chestal area, and said, “I really like your necklace.”
Ok “A”, I was doing perfectly wonderfully until we switched from the subject of owls to the subject of my chestal area. Because then I stumbled. Totally. And he wasn’t be lascivious about it. Not like Sleaze Bob Square Pants. He just made a remark. But I was too nervous to look down and see if he had on a wedding band, because it might look like I was checking something else out. And if he WAS available, I would be all blushing and fumbling and speaking in tongues, but not in a cute way, but more in a “Uh oh, I think this woman is having a seizure I better call 911” way.
So I think I curtly said, “Thank you” which spoke volumes, I’m afraid. I didn’t mean to say it like that. It was just the pee-pain talking. Honest! And then suddenly I couldn’t think of anything else to say about those damn owls, like “Oh, they’re so cute.”(like for the 47th time in a row…think Tourettes Syndrome to the nth power) or “Gee, I hope my camera gets a good shot of those owls 7500 yards away. ”
He even gamely said, “I wish we had owls in the city to catch rats.” I looked at him and saw OUR whole life together flash before my eyes. Him and I lolling around in bed reading the New York Times together on Sunday morning. Driving up to the Adirondacks in the Fall. Going down to New York City to see a Broadway Show. And the sex!!! Oh my God, the sex!!! I figure runners are great in bed, since they have all that god damn stamina.
But then I was abruptly yanked back to reality by that damn squawking owl and was still standing there like a dork, trying to make conversation with this really good looking guy who was actually making an effort to make conversation with me, all while I was nearly passing out from a pee-induced coma.
nothing. I couldn’t think of anything else to say or any reason to be there other than he could be my ultimate soul mate who may own a Mercedes/yacht/mansion and love the fact that I am one of those “common people” that william shatner and joe jackson so lovingly sing about. nothing.
I finally just said, “Enjoy” and walked away. After a short walk, I finally got to the bathroom. There was a line. I got in and there was no toilet paper, so I gathered up like two single sheets that were still gamely hanging off the end of the cardboard roll and tried to crumple them into a ball. crumple, crumple, crumple.
As you can see, my life continues to go very well.