Alls Well That Ends Well Just a quick note here for anyone keeping score at home: 1) Services were LONG but we all held up (thanks to wonderful babysitting this morning - $5 was a PITTANCE to be able to leave our 10 year old son with two very wonderful young ladies who occupied him for nearly three hours - THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU) and actually enjoyed them all without having to stress about the boy fidgeting, disrupting the service or wanting to know "if this is the last page" from the start; 2) Mental note: Never invite anyone for anything on Rosh Hashanah Day 1 - services are too long, you end up too tired and at OUR synagogue, if you plan to do all the Saturday services (regular, children's and tashlich/havdallah) you'll kill yourself if you ALSO have to cook and entertain - I don't recommend it. I must have been absolutely insane to think we could rush home from services which ended at 1:00 for friends invited for 1:30 - prepare a full course meal and serve it AND be back to the temple at 3:30. Instead, I recommend you reconsider and do what we did. While our temple has a luncheon hosted by one of the families to which everyone is invited, we passed and instead hit the local chinese buffet. Nothing like food on demand, and lots of it, after a three hour marathon service! We napped in between the last two services and closed the day with dessert out. Overall...wonderful experience; and finally: 3) My sister got my eight-year old nephew's ear pierced. "But," she says. "It was the right one so that's okay." I wonder about her sometimes. L'Shanah Tovah!

The best intentions... We had invited over a friend and her daughter for Rosh Hashanah luncheon tomorrow. Actually, we had invited my sister-in-law, my brother-in-law, her parents and my nieces, Sarah and Samantha PLUS my friend and her daughter. All month I planned for this. In fact, I even bought salmon back around Labor Day in preparation! About two weeks ago, my sister-in-law backed out and said her parents didn't like to eat at other peoples homes (!) and would prefer a restaurant. So scratch six. Knowing we had to be at the rabbi's house for dinner tonight at 5:30, we spent last night cleaning like fiends. I scrubbed those nasty chairs (and took the finish off of one!) while my husband cleaned the kitchen to perfection. Afterwards, my eyes drooping, I drove myself to the market and got everything I needed for our menu - vegetables for a fine Israeli salad, potatoes, honey, pickles and olives, liver for chopping, marinade for the fish. I lugged it back home and we put it away. Then we got into a HUGE fight over everything and finally, just went to bed. This morning my friend emailed me and told me that because her aunt has been so sick, she thinks it's best that she cancels. This news actually made my day!! At least now, the house is clean ENOUGH...maybe not company-clean but it's okay. We also don't have to rush back from services to make lunch. Not that it was a problem, it wasn't - but this takes a lot of the pressure off. So change in plans - now we're going to Chinese buffet for lunch after services. There's a BIG party my synagogue is throwing but I am not in the mood for chit-chat and a crowd. My own family will do just fine, thank you very much.

Easy-Off Right before we went on vacation, we were given a beautiful dining room set from my husband's aunt and uncle. A big, beautiful oak and glass table with not one but TWO leaves...a lighted china cupboard which seemed like it could hold most of the treasures from the Smithsonian and a small, rolling server. We already had a dining room set from my grandmother but the chairs were some weird kind of Swedish modern and extremely uncomfortable so the thought of getting this wonderful set with big, straight-backed chairs that held the memory for me of holiday dinners past....well, I couldn't pass it up. Even if it meant ditching my grandmother's antique set. The only problem was that the set was at my husband's cousin's house and he was in the county jail for violations unknown to the rest of the family but which were rumored to have something to do with (let's all say it in a loud whisper now...) DRUGS! It was well known in the family about this particular cousin's troubles with the law, as these troubles have been going on, pretty much non-stop, since the late 80's when he did time in Tennessee for trafficking. None of us were surprised and most of us were pretty disgusted that the home he had bought from his parents - his childhood home which his mother had so painstakingly decorated, cleaned and loved - was now sitting abandoned waiting for the padlock to be placed on the front door indicating the forthcoming sheriff's sale for taxes. My husband's aunt and uncle, now well into their 80's, and retired had been living in Florida. Now his uncle had cancer and they had moved in with my sainted mother-in-law (why their daughter would not have them is another story altogether!). On visiting days my husband drives to get them and take them to Pittsburgh to see their son. His aunt cries and thinks they need to do everything they can to help their son. And I can't help but feel sad for all of them. These two wonderful oldsters, who worked their whole lives to make their kids' lives a little better, have mortgaged their home once or twice to bail out their son. He obviously appreciated the gesture. When we went to see the furniture, the house was dark - the electricity had been off for months as well as the water and the gas. We were scared nearly half to death as we walked to the back of the house to try the back door key and found a woman sleeping under a futon mattress. Inside the house, it reeked of smoke and dog urine. The kitchen had caught on fire once and the walls were black behind the stove. Apparantly when the police came to take everyone away, they didn't see the dog that was there and he remained for days until someone finally found him. There were remnants of some kind of garage sale where my husband's cousin had tried to sell off what his parents had left behind - treasured fishing equipment, family keepsakes. Now all that was left was what the public or his friends had picked through and didn't want. His sister told us to take what we wanted. It didn't matter anymore. Remembering the Christmas that we spent there, all around the dining room table having homemade cappaletti soup...it made me want to just cry. Now that table is in MY dining room. I hope it's happy with me. I have spent the last week trying to clean the layers upon layers of nicotene off of it. Rolls and rolls of paper towels have come off caked with enough brown ick to make me gag. I will eventually get all of that cleaned off....I wish I could clean off my husband's aunt and uncle's heart as easily.

A Matter of Convenience This Friday at sundown starts the beginning of the holiest season of the year for Jews - Rosh Hashanah, the start of the High Holidays. This year is especially meaningful to me, since it was just this past June that I emerged from the mikveh as a Jewess. My plans so far include an invitation from my Rabbi to join her and her family for a holiday meal prior to the start of services on Friday night. On Saturday, a friend from work and her 3-year old daughter will be coming to our house for a late luncheon and then we will all go to the children's service together. Then, later in the evening, my family will attend the Tashlich/Havdallah service at the lake to close out our festivities. It sounds exhausting but actually, we're all looking forward to it. Everyone, that is, except my friend M (I am using the pseudonym M to protect her identity.) I invited M for the holiday meal back when I thought we'd be entertaining nine other people and figured I'd serve turkey to such an enormous crowd. Now let me explain about M and turkey. There is a Thanksgiving not too far back when she gobbled (pun intended) an entire turkey breast while we sat and just kept our fingers away from her. Whereas some women are addicted to chocolate...M is addicted to turkey and I admit, I knew with it on the menu, she was sure to accept my invitation to the holiday meal. Otherwise, she probably would have made some excuse and spent the weekend pouting somewhere because we were busy doing "boring" Jewish things. But, in the bedlam of pre-holiday planning, my own plans fell through and my party for nine turned into a party that, including us, was just six. So I decided to serve salmon....while she likes it, it is NOT as appealing to M as turkey. Naturally she whined. "Why are we having fish? I thought you said turkey!" "Well, with so few people, I figured fish would be easier to prepare and quicker. That way we can get to services and everyone can have a nice meal." I replied. She didn't say anything which has become her standard response lately when we're talking about my religion and anything remotely associated with it. It's gotten to the point where I am just not quite sure what her problem is. She doesn't say anything but after putting up with this for a year, it has something to do with my religious choice and that of my family. 'Nuff said. So, here we are and Rosh Hashanah is in four days. Yesterday I told her we planned to have dinner on Saturday at 1:30 and then we would go to services at 3:30. She was welcome to go with us - it should be fun! Our rabbi usually does a puppet show and lets the children blow the shofar. In her best imitation of Moon Zappa to date, she replied, "I don't THINK so." She's a valley girl, for sure for sure...she's a valley girl, and there aint no cure.... Then she proceeded to tell us how it was OUR religion and not hers and she was just NOT interested in any way, shape or form. She went on that ours is a Jewish home and she claimed this was "FINE!" but that she didn't have to buy into it OR like it. And she didn't. Either of them. She just wanted it all to go away...then she continued. "Why do you have to, like, be Jewish all the time?" Am I missing something here???? This afternoon she called me and told me that her boss was imposing unrealistic work deadlines on her that had to be concluded by Saturday afternoon with no exceptions. She was sure she wouldn't be able to accomplish this and her boss had told her to work straight through Saturday if that was what it would take to get it accomplished. And my friend, who had not 24 hours earlier, informed me that Rosh Hashanah was MY holiday and NOT hers and that I shouldn't impose my belief system on her by expecting that she celebrate my holidays, particularly if they involved religion, services or anything that resembled them, then told her boss... "I can't work Saturday, it's Rosh Hashanah!" I guess there ARE times when religion IS important to my friend after all. My husband snarked..."Well, I plan to tell her if she claims she can't work because it's a High Holiday, then there is no reason for her NOT to attend the children's service with us." THIS should go over like the proverbial turd in a punchbowl. I can see it now. She'll get all - "I didn't MEAN it THAT way, I just meant it was important to YOU! I mean, they know what you did and everything" (A Jewish version of "I know what you did last summer" I suppose.) And then I'll get all - "So it's so important to ME that YOU can't work?" And then she'll get all - "Whatever!" And she'll refuse to discuss it. And she'll come over for the dinner, probably all freaked out about not meeting her deadline or crying that she has to go "Straight back to work to finish it but I did this ALL for you!" so as to make sure to impose some weird guilt trip on me. And she will. I'll feel bad and try to rush dinner and apologize all over the place when in reality... Wasn't the whole purpose because it was important to me??? Ahhh....you can never tell when it involves matters of convenience, eh?

The Squeeze Speaks My Dad normally would call me once or twice a week and chat for about an hour or more each time. While it was hard finding some time where I could mindlessly listen to his ramblings for an hour or more....I nonetheless came to enjoy talking to him. Well, all that changed when the Squeeze appeared on the scene. And since she's been there since the Eagles concert we all went to in July...it's been a long time since I talked to my Dad. And this was ticking me off. So last night I called him. He didn't even really want to chat! I couldn't help it but I went off on him. "You never call me anymore!" "Well, I'm busy and I know you have a life and family in Pittsburgh, you don't need me." "YOU'RE my family too!" Or does that adoption certificate mean NOTHING?????? "Okay, okay...I just didn't want to interfere." My sweet patootie. What has happened is what happens to ALL 15 year olds when they get their first girl/boyfriend. They DUMP everyone else. My mother warned me about this...but who would know it would apply to my 61 year old FATHER and not to me???!!! She always said that you shouldn't dump your friends and family for a fleeting romance. And now that I am well into the throes of adulthood, I realize she was right. And now, I have to tell it to my FATHER? What is UP with that? So we chatted some more...the hurricane, did he get the camper pulled across the road at the beach?, the Steelers, the Redskins, the VMI game in the hurricane in Blacksburg. All the stuff we normally talk about. And then it happened. He says...wait a minute. And the next thing I know, the Squeeze is saying hello. This was NOT what I had anticipated but I grinned, flipped my father some airbirds through the phone line and chatted away. She talked mainly about how eager she was to meet me, my husband and our son. Knew the kid's name...impressive! She rambled about her dog and then started on me about when we were coming to visit. I have been dodging that since we got back from the beach. Every afternoon I hear tales from my sister about how many people are in that house...her three kids and all their friends. As I have said before, I do NOT want to meet her son coming out of the shower. But she rambled on about the hot tub, the pool, the tanning bed...everything at the house that makes it home away from home, theoretically speaking. Like I don't know. Then she kind of implies that I am not MAKING time for my Dad and I just am being difficult. I admit, it wasn't my finest moment when I said to my Dad... "I don't want to impose. You know, it's like HER house now." He went into orbit naturally and this, now, was the remnant of that. I assured her I was NOT being difficult, that I did, indeed, have MANY things to do. I figured I'd overwhelm her with knowledge as it was clear she wasn't the sharpest crayon in the box so I rambled on about Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur and Sukkot (always a dazzler!) and how we had to go to the rabbi's house for dinner next Shabbat and had company the next day for Rosh Hashanah plus hours and hours of services to attend over the next three weeks. When you start talking Jewish, especially to some south of the border redneck, you can usually leave them in your dust in a state of complete confusion. And for the most part, she didn't have a clue what hit her. She sort of sounded like she had finally gotten the message. But I went on... We have a reunion coming up, a Murder Mystery we act in and then tickets to Vicki Lawrence. Then it would be the end of October and we could see where that put us. But the boy has Religious School every Sunday morning so whatever, we'd only be staying for a few hours and then heading back. "Okay, we'll have a barbecue or a cookout or something. It will be great." Of that I am absolutely sure.

Misha Sex and the City is going to go out in a blazing flame of glory...and why? Because they have added the eternal sex symbol of the dancing world - Mikhail Baryshnikov as a new suitor for Carrie. And let's face it....the man is HOT - and I mean SIZZLING. I admit when I heard he would be appearing on SATC I was wary...I mean like everyone else I had seen him in 1985's White Nights with the late, great Gregory Hines and the fabulous Isabella Rossellini but that was 1985! Could Misha possibly be JUST as hot 18 years later? Or like the doofy guest appearance by David Duchovny as carrie's old high school flame, would he be resigned to a fate of mediocrity and caricature? Well, between 9:00 and 9:35 p.m. on Sunday, I found I needn't have worried. The man can still make my heart race. Afterwards, I was busy digging out my old "Baryshnikov at Wolf Trap" and "Nutcracker" videos. He was JUST as hot....NAY! He is HOTTER! The hapless Carrie leaves her purse in the back of a cab and ole Mish leaps like a gazelle down the street to get it, eventually chasing down the cab, retrieving the purse (and the banana inside of it...LONG story) and delivering it back to Carrie without so much as a gasp for air. As George Costanza would say...oh yeah baby, YEAH!!!!!

Whoever has the keys to the camper, please stand up My father called me at 7:25 this morning. What is remarkable about this isn't so much that he called me but the fact that it's a Monday morning and really, it's a MORNING! The man hardly crawls out of bed before 10:00 most days...to be alert enough to not only figure out my number (which he habitually loses) but to actually dial it! Anyway, he asked me what I was doing. Like, Dad! Hey, it's 7:25 and I am finishing my shredded wheat and headed for yet another week in the mines, you know??? "Do you know where the keys to the camper are?" I don't know if I mentioned this but our camper is like a Winnebago...the kind with the steering wheel and gas pedal right in the living room. "No. I hardly had the keys to the front door." "Well, the guy who wants to move it for me says he gave them to some girl. I figured it was you." News flash Dad...you let everyone and their mother stay there. It's like the Holiday Inn for everyone you know and half the people you don't know. "He probably gave them to Chrissy," I said. My Dad has known Chrissy since she was a little girl, she was the niece of his first girlfriend after my mom died. She tells everyone she is HIS niece and this pisses my sister off to no end. (The Squeeze using my Dad's last name doesn't bother her...go figure!) She works on the weekends for my Dad and he thinks she is just IT. She was there the week before we were in August. On her second honeymoon. That is to say, her second honeymoon in a month after a whirlwind three week courtship, justice of the peace wedding in Winchester, VA and a quickie overnight honeymoon at Ed's Beds. Don't misunderstand...she's a nice girl. Has a nice set of ready-mades if you get my drift. Just about one french fry short of a Happy Meal. "She's in North Carolina," my dad said, as if this means she couldn't possibly have the keys. Nice logic. "Well, there was a set on the table in the living room of the camper. That's all I know. Tell your guy to go in and see if that's them." "Man, I don't want to make a 5 hour trip to find keys," he whined. "And it's raining. That means there won't be anything to do once we get there!" Since when did my Dad turn into a 16-year old boy with the attention span of a gnat? He reminded me of the hurricane and how it's supposed to race up the Chesapeake. I admit, I am a little worried. My faithful readers will remember my attachment to the camper and our annual vacation. In the end, I had to go to work and he gave up trying to wish me into having the keys. I told him to call me tonight after work....I knew he wouldn't. Too many other, bigger and better things to do with the Squeeze than to call me. And that's okay. I keep telling myself...he's old enough to make his own decisions now. As the commercial says - "Being able to let go....priceless!" I spoke to my sister tonight. She doesn't know where he is...he may even be on his way to the beach. She's worried because she, her husband and 6 of his gnarly friends have tickets to Dover this weekend and with the hurricane coming and Dad moving the camper out of the campground, their free weekend just turned into "having to make reservations somewhere." I feel bad. After all it IS her 36th birthday. She says she'll probably tell him to go alone...and spend her birthday in blessed solitude. In the meantime, my dad is looking for those keys. The way I see it, they are somewhere between the Eastern Panhandle of West Virginia and the Eastern Shore. Good luck!

9/11 Remembered 9.11.2001 was a day very much like today. A crisp, early autumn morning highlighted by golden sunshine, dew-covered windshields and bright blue, cloudless skies. My one memory of a moment pre-9/11, as I like to think of it, is walking out of the glass door here at our college offices with my boss as we went to a meeting together. Joking, laughing, looking forward to the meeting. We walked into our destination and a colleague stopped me at the door and told me a plane had hit the World Trade Center! In my pre-9/11 thought process, I immediately thought it was a commuter plane, piloted by some nut hell-bent on suicide in a spectacular fashion and so I made some lame joke about "helluva way to go" and laughed and went to my meeting. My boss says now how funny it is that we sat in that meeting with the door closed, worrying so much about trivial issues in our work, arguing and being argued at with very little idea that the world such as it was when we walked out the glass door that morning together would not be the same one we would come back to. Periodically throughout our meeting, people stopped in, giving us bits and pieces of the catastrophe unfolding around us. My boss's assistant came in and told us his son who lived in Washington, DC was okay. We both looked at each other and wondered why he wouldn't be okay? We didn't know about the Pentagon. The next person to come in was a college worker who told us that the college was being closed down but we didn't have to rush. A colleague in the meeting made a joke about terrorists in the next room. We had absolutely NO idea what was happening outside of our windows. We were told the college was evacuating, finally. We were considered a large "land target." We had to get out immediately. That was about the time panic started to set in. Someone came in and told us about the plane that crashed in Shanksville...a mile from her parents home. She said she thought Washington, DC was under attack. We found out later that Flight 93 had flown over our building not 10 minutes before it crashed. I left work to get my eight-year old son from school. I just wanted him with me. My husband told me the school may not let me take him out....I double-dared them to try to stop me. The things I remember now are images and feelings deep inside of me. The feeling I had when I got home and saw what really happened. How I held my child closer to me and couldn't stop crying for days. The feeling of total panic in the middle of the night and waking to turn on the television to see if our government had been overthrown or further attacks perpetrated. I remember not being able to get enough news and rushing home after an afternoon out to see what the latest headlines were. Being claustrophobic for the first time in my life when in the back of a grocery store and needing to be able to clearly see the exits whenever I was in a large building. And I remember when I visited Shanksville for the first time and feeling as if all of the life and love and humanity that lay scattered across that field was a huge black hole sucking all of the air out of me in one huge gasp of disbelief and grief. I thought that I would feel that way forever and I couldn't imagine waking up and NOT thinking about it. I couldn't imagine not feeling the hurt and anger and fear that I felt those first few months after 9/11. And while I admit the feelings are not as intense or as sharp as they were in those days, weeks and months immediately following 9/11 - they remain. And it is my wish that they always remain. Another day in history to remember man's inhumanity to man and another day to remember nearly 3,000 people who didn't know it but who became all of our heroes.

My Father has a Girlfriend and other Earth-shattering events We have been back from vacation for slightly over two weeks. That week we spent at the shore was wonderful. Sure, we had a cell phone to reach the outside world should we have reason to, but for the most part, we were isolated and our world consisted of camp gossip and concern for being at the pavillion for the evening movie on time. It was wonderful. I come BACK from vacation and find out the most shocking news of all...my father has gotten himself a woman! OY! Apparantly he met her after we got back from the Eagles concert. Naturally, I drove back from DC with everyone piled into the back of the van and took him straight to the club he owns - Piggys. We sat for a while but after driving from Pittsburgh to WV to DC and back you can imagine my interest in perching at a bar, listening to still more blaring music, until 3:00 a.m. So, we said our goodbyes and drove into the night back to my Dad's house. Now let me take you for a little aside into my Dad's house. He built this house about five years ago. It's a GORGEOUS a-frame cedar house, approximately 10,000 square feet. It has an inground pool in the basement and a jacuzzi in a room my Dad calls the "Pagoda" room. There's a tv in every room and a giant drop down projector tv in the "Great Room" which is impressive even if you can't see it when the sun's up. There's a Ms. Pac Man game and a pool table, a pinball game and a craps table. He even has two garages because when he ordered them, there was a "Buy One, Get One" special going on. Off the kitchen is an electronic doggy door even though he doesn't have a dog yet. The house fronts the east and the whole eastern side is a block of windows facing the mountains that ring the northern Shenandoah Valley. On a clear day you can see all the way to Harper's Ferry. My Dad likes to sit at the bar in the kitchen and contemplate the hills. When he decided to add on a room, he made sure he never lost his view. The most exciting time is the 4th of July when you can stand on the deck and watch the fireworks all across the valley complete with music since he has a sound system installed outside. It's a magnificent home! Unfortunately, in the five years since it has been built he hasn't lived in it. He chooses, instead, to live over his club so he's close by. The house, he says, is there for his grandsons and for us to enjoy. So, in reality, it's become kind of like a large-scale bed and breakfast for when we come to visit. We all love it. Okay, back to the story. So, off we drove to the house...planning to leave at the crack of dawn for one reason or another and in the meantime, my dad is on the prowl. That's right...getting himself a Squeeze. Of course, he doesn't tell ME and I spend the month of August in some kind of oblivious fog until I get the phone call from my sister - "Sharon, Dad has a girlfriend!" Of course, I figured it was all transitory. After all, earlier this summer he had a girlfriend...okay, he HAD a girlfriend until they were both in the hot tub and she told him she had hepatitus C. After he got out and took a Silkwood shower, he showed her the door. But this one is apparantly enough for my sister to get upset enough to ask him if he was still planning on being buried next to our mother. His Squeeze got a tattoo with his name on her back and he made some noise that he was thinking about it too. Of course, he won't discuss this stuff with ME because I would most likely tell him how silly he was acting. But he DID mention it to my sister which sent her into a tailspin. I calmly assured her that once they had him sign the hep C waiver, it would all be a thing of the past. The big news has been that he moved her and her low life children into THE house. She has three kids that I know of. A set of twins with such stellar traits as one is pregnant and doesn't know who the father is and the other is a convicted pedophile on the National Registry. There's another kid whose only claim to fame is a keg party he had with his friends upon moving in. My sister went ballistic about THAT one since my Dad has told BOTH of us that there are NO friends allowed at the house for "security" reasons. I talked to my Dad just last week and that was pretty much when I realized he was whipped. Now, let me just say, I have NEVER talked to HER and really, he only admitted to me that she even existed in the past week or so. Apparantly, becoming whipped doesn't take long. I hadn't been able to reach him since vacation so I finally tracked him down to the house. There's a lot I know courtesy of my sister and her big mouth that he doesn't know I know so I try to just let him talk while I listen. He must have taken the phone to some remote part of the house because all of a sudden I hear her come in the room and say - "Honey, I didn't know if you'd left or where you'd gotten off to!" Oh GAG me!!!!!!! The man is 60 years old and has a security system second to none. You can WATCH cars coming and going up and down the driveway for crying out loud! She knew exactly where he was...she just wanted me to know she was keeping him on a short leash. Usually my Dad is asking if we're coming "next" weekend. Suddenly he asks if we plan to come before Thanksgiving. I say "of course we are!" a little defensively but I have already evaluated this one. He has given HER the house. She lives there with her loser kids. SHE is on probation. Okay, okay...its for DUI but still, probation is probation. I already have enough problems keeping Evan on the straight and narrow, I don't need him thinking this is an attractive quality in a person! I am also worried that while we are there something will go missing and naturally, given Evan's issues in life...he will be an easy target to blame. And the heck with that...so would my husband and me. Not a good situation and not a set-up I am going to enable them to have over me either. So...visits to Pops are temporarily on hiatus. And the worst part is...I have to find a reasonable excuse other than "your girlfriend and her kids strike me odd." The BIG one happened though at the campground. We came back from vacation on Friday and he took her on the next Sunday. They had a good time from all accounts but sometime between Sunday and Tuesday, she called the cops on him. Now, there's a lot I can handle and I tell my sister every single day that he's a big boy now and we have to let him make his own mistakes. He cane choose his OWN friends now. It is not up to us to protect him forever. We have to stay OUT of it. But when you start fooling around with my summer vacation, that's going a little too far. Apparantly, he got a little amorous and she - knocked on her own ass as she was - wasn't receptive. They started to fight - LOUDLY...and she ran to the camp office and called the Maryland State Troopers to come get him. Now please don't forget, this is a family camp with a lights out policy from 11pm through 8am. She chose to have sirens blaring and cop cars pouring in like Rush Hour II at 4am. The cops took the Squeeze away (HA!) and the next morning my Dad high-tailed it out of there realizing that the campground would most likely choose to terminate his lease and throw us all out of there. He must have felt bad at some point though because somehow she found a ride home and he paid the guy who drove her $50 for his trouble, had my sister go get her and bring her to him and then spent the better part of a week sweet talking her. My sister was sick over the whole thing. They were like teenagers, she complained. The Squeeze asked if he had treated his LAST girlfriend like that (hey, how about our Mom idiot!) And when my sister tried to remove herself by saying she had no idea, she lived in Texas then...my Dad yelled at her for not saying "no" and making him look bad to the Squeeze. The Squeeze would ask her if he had said he was sorry and he would start on her about how he could make it up to his intended. Then someone mentioned a pre-nuptual agreement and my sister hasn't been right since then. I just happily hung up the phone every day after my sister's report. But it does appear that there are cracks in Paradise. Every year my Dad goes to Brasil. He loves it there. He is SO in love with Brasil that he has the Brasilian flag in ceramic embedded in the entry way of THE house. Calls it his homeland...his "real" people. Takes a lot for a man that looks like a fat leprochaun to say that but that's his story. He has a blast there. He and his childhood best friend go and come back with weird "discomforts" that they have to take Cipro for 14 days for...you get the picture. Well, apparantly, my Dad, his Squeeze and the fun he has in Brasil at Carnivale don't mix. He always says you can't be married or involved with anyone to go. At first he said he didn't want to go this year anyway. But then as August waned into September and the time came to start buying tickets - well, the cracks started to appear. Now he says he wants to go for various, fairly nasty, reasons. He says the Squeeze will have to be gone before then. In a way I feel sorry for her even though she definitely jeopardized my summer vacations at the shore (we had started to prepare by scoping out a Treehouse camp site somewhere in western Maryland), took over my weekend house to the point where I can't even come visit anymore (oh yeah, I KNOW I'll feel REAL comfortable when I run into the pedophile twin coming out of the shower!) and turned my Dad into a pale, whipped shadow of his former self. Heck, she even said she wants him to go to AA! THAT very well could be the final straw. And while I don't particularly want my Dad to grow old alone and I certainly have no intention of changing his diapers when he is 80, I am fairly sure her agenda didn't include these items either. So...I give it until Hanukkah. He'll be done with her by then or New Years at the most. His priorities lay elsewhere. I mean, how could anyone resist Carnivale and a raging case of VD? Some things will never change.