Hmm. Kind of an involuntary hiatus there, sparked by insane amounts of time spent either in an airplane, in an airport, or in Ohio.
Also, I'm crabby. I've been a little blue for quite a while now, and I feel guilty subjecting you all to my blue crabs when I'm in this mood. It's not good for either of us, really.
Two of my buddies moved far away this week. One to Orlando (marking the THIRD friend I've had who moved to Orlando - is O-Town trying to tell me something?) and the other to Baltimore. They were both relatively new friends, but I've told you before that there aren't many people my age on these island, and I liked both of these guys a whole lot. I hit it off with both of them famously, and we had a lot of fun. They were my cheerer-uppers, and now they're BOTH gone. Sucks. Kind of cut my going-out-crowd in half, yo.
Shawn and I met this other guy who we thought would be fun to go out with (actually, one of the mover-aways roommate), but now we're saying that maybe we shouldn't start hanging out with him and enjoying his company, because apparently that's a surefire way to ensure that person will move many, many miles away.
I forgot to tell you two things about my first visit to Ohio, to hang out with my mom.
1. Her damn dog bit me. In a classic Jamie maneuver, in trying to help someone out, I made things nine times more complicated. Before the dog bite, the most famous story based on this Jamie maneuver was the time I tried to help my mom at Christmas time by backing a simple batch of chocolate chip cookies. One pan of burned cookie-like chunks later, mom and I found ourselves in the grocery store at 2 a.m., replacing all the ingredients I ruined so she could remake the batch for the next day.
Last weekend, my dad was running around like a madman, preparing for guests. Like I said, there's a steady stream of guests staying at my parents' house, visiting my mom "one last time." Saying goodbye. I've dubbed it the "Tour De Debbie." Mom and I were talking about all the things Dad said he had to get done, and I was trying to figure out how to take some of the load away from him.
Mowing Grass? No. I've offered to do this 504 times before, and I'm pretty sure my dad thinks he's the only person in a 50-mile radius who possesses the ability to operate a riding lawnmower.
Laundry? No. He was doing some sort of special load.
Washing the Dog? Great idea!
Until the little fucker ducked under the bed, and bit five holes in my hand while I tried to drag him out. One of his canines sank into a line that was already a part of my wrist, opening up a wound that bled down my arm. I don't like blood AT ALL, so I proceeded to freak the fuck out. Poor mom.
I felt terrible, but Dad was funny. He was all mad, like, "Oh, I'm gonna wash the dog, all right. Don't you worry about that."
2. The Tour De Debbie participants bring with them an ungodly amount of delicious food, and drop it off in my parents' refrigerator. The fridge was packed so tight, it looked like Tetris in there. People, I gained weight. If I still lived there, I'd be shaped like Mrs. PotatoHead.
Me: "I think I'm in the mood for something sweet."
Dad: "You know what you should have? There's some key lime pie left. You could compare it to what you get down there in the Keys."
Sister Mollie: "Yeah, it's pretty good, I think."
Me: "Okay. I think I'll try that."
I start walking toward the kitchen. Mollie follows me.
Mom (shouting after me): "The cherry pie on the counter is WONDERFUL!"
Me: "Okay! Maybe later. I'm just going to have a piece of this key lime pie now."
As I'm cutting the key lime pie, my littlest sister Carrie walks into the kitchen.
Carrie: "Hey, if you want, instead of that, I could make you up a strawberry shortcake."
Me: "AM I IN HEAVEN?!"
After a short pause, Mollie looked at me and very seriously replied, "Yes. You are."
