All's Quiet All's quiet on the western front...er...the West Virginia front, that is. Tami's still knocked up and doing well. She's smoking about 3 packs a day and sounds like hell but Dad got her some nicorette gum although, yeah, that's right...he's holding it for some weird kind of ransom saying she'll STILL smoke 3 packs a day AND do the nicorette gum. I'd pay money to see THAT! PJ had his 9th birthday on Saturday and refused to talk to me when I called to say "Happy Birthday." He was also less than thrilled with the $15 gift card to Barnes and Noble I gave him. But what can I say? He had spent the night before apparantly beating the crap out of a playmate with a Dexter's Laboratory toy. At least he's not setting small fires yet. Trever is still doing a damned good Timmy-from-South-Park impression and remains blissfully unaware of his impending doom. Joe fixed the AC in their trailer but Tami contends he didn't do it right because it STILL sounds like it has about $3.00 worth of bolts stuck in the blower. She says she's going to call a repairman anyway. Tami says he is making her nuts and she wants a divorce again. I said, "Oh yeah, now you can be a single mother to THREE! You can't even do it for TWO without whining about how hard it is! Shut up and suck it up!" I am compassionate if nothing else! The Love Bugs are still nestled in at Cozy Lane - although now, apparantly, they have a plan to beat any possible PFA that may be placed against one or both. NOW, the Sponge's legal address will be at the apartment above the club. And she can go down anytime she wants to party...he'll call her a cab. And all SHE has to do is call him when she gets there and when she goes to bed...so he can be assured she's not screwing around. Uh huh! They got it goin' on don't they? And that way, if they get into it and get arrested again and the judge separates them for 3-6 months, he won't have to worry that she's all alone in the Big House, selling the contents piecemeal and running a scaled down whorehouse on the side!!! Definite meeting of the minds up on Love Bug Lane! I am SO glad they got a lawyer to figure this out for them. I think that about sums it up. Oh yeah...my dad STILL has not told me about any of it. In fact, when he called Friday to wish me a happy birthday he was talking baby talk to her. And Anth and I were squabbling as we are often wont to do on my birthday - to which my dad said he didn't want to get involved and got all "I have the world's most mature and happiest relationship" on me. Yeah...right Dad. I think I'll keep my dysfunctional relationship in that case...if what YOU have is normal...I'll keep crazy.

Unbelievable I simply cannot believe it. Someone searched "nipple clamps" and got to the Tomato. I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes!

SOSO Yesterday afternoon as I was leaving work Anthony called to tell me my sister had called to let HIM know she had bailed out BOTH my father AND the Sponge. Naturally, we aren't supposed to know. As far as we're concerned, everything is all "Love American Style" down there. But according to my sister, it's anything but. See, it was last year on April 14 that the Sponge's precious son committed suicide by a heroin OD. He was 19. Now she just drinks and drugs constantly and says that's why. Personally, I don't understand that. I mean, my MOM died 21 years ago in August and I have been sober that entire time. Shit happens...get over it, that's MY motto. Well, apparantly, she can't get over it and so she got roaring drunk coupled with some choice DOC's (drug o' choice) and then he got all liquored up and what Anthony had said was simmering just below the surface when he went out with my Dad Saturday night erupted. She has a black eye and he has a pretty nasty bite. They BOTH ended up in jail THIS time. So now they're out. Tami said she went over last night and he was saying how he is sure she'll change...he even got her a lawyer to defend her. Happy Birthday to me.

Good news... Well, we at least had a little good news...I guess. Tami called last night after her sonogram. So far, the tech thought the baby looked fine. Girlfriend is, however, 15 weeks pregnant although now she's figuring that it happened AFTER the infamous PAP and not before. If my own calcs are right, it happened the week before Evan's birthday. Her due date is now October 6th. For my own selfish satisfaction, the tech kept calling the baby a "he" although she said she couldn't tell what it was...and of course Girlfriend HAS to know. On the Sponge front, my Dad, who proudly told me he had quit drinking for good last December and just "didn't want to live that way anymore," has taken it up but good. Between her drug addiction and his alcohol addiction, they make quite the pair. I am glad none of you judge me...because when I read this like I don't know who these people are, I seriously start to wonder if I am hallucinating.

The Vocabulary of a White Trash Pregnancy My sister called last night and told me she has to have an "amniocytosis" or "whatever they call it." I have to give her credit...she realized her pronunciation MAY not be right. Apparantly she hit the "OB" yesterday as she put it. Weirdly...and this kind of gave me the creeps when she told me...she tried to go to the same one she went to with her first. Which was the same one our mother went to when she was having Tami. And did she go to him because he was so renowned? Sadly, no. She went to him simply because our mother had and Tami's life is nothing if she's not emulating everything our mother did down to the letter. And yes, I find that rather ghoulish. Anyway, he's passed on to his great reward now so she had to find another. I can only imagine her feeling of desperation since the guy who delivered ME, aside from being in Delaware, is long since dead and now, the only other OB/GYN to have touched our mother is also gone. But...she managed to find someone. HE thinks she's further "along" than 12 weeks. HE wouldn't say how far that is...just that she's a lot more knocked up than she originally was thinking - which coincides with the love fest that went on at my Dad's house during the month of December when the Sponge moved out and Tami and Joe and Co. moved in. Well, this must be causing her great anxiety because the phone rang at 5:55am this morning before I had even considered getting up. I stayed in bed. I have found that whatever it is, at that hour, CAN wait. And it did. Until 6:54 when she called again. I grabbed it this time but she had hung up after the third ring. I guess she got the point but I called her back anyway. "Can they tell you're pregnant from a PAP smear?" she asked in a very gravelly voice - obviously she's been hitting the ciggies hard these past few days. "I think so." I relied after I went off on her about calling me before my alarm clock even goes off. "Well, I had a PAP smear in January and now HE's telling me I am further along than three months and I am afraid something is wrong," she said as I heard her take a long drag on the cigarette she had just lit. I told her I thought they could tell from the condition of the cervix but at this point what did it matter? She had had all the blood work taken yesterday and her sonogram was scheduled for today - just sit back and wait. My feelings? What does it matter if they missed it then? She's pregnant now isn't she? She agreed, took another long drag and said goodbye. This is going to be a LONG pregnancy...no matter when it ends.

Six Months and Counting... I guess now we're all on the baby watch. My sister called last night while I was out at a friend's house and so I called her back at 10pm when I came home. Woke her up too...which I didn't regret after more mornings than I care to remember when she called at just past 6am. Actually, as long as we don't talk about her being knocked up, we have pretty decent conversations about our mutual contempt for the Sponge. But when it comes to that baby...I bristle and she gets all defensive and it just doesn't go over very well. For one thing, I am probably the most p.o.'ed that she's naming it after my mom. My mom has been dead for 21 years this August. Even though I was happy to stop with the one kid I could reasonably support and care for (whereas my sister just produces them like mice) - I still feel it was MY birthright to be able to name a kid after my mom. And even then...if Evan had been a girl we had chosen Vittoria. We talked about Beth Ann - after my mom and my grandmother. But in the end we remembered something my mom said about my father, who is a Jr., and how it was a sad day in the world when you couldn't give someone their own original, unique name. So why am I so upset over this? I mean, I am 40 and I have NO intentions of getting back in the game. My kid is 11 now and can dress himself and wipe his own butt. These are high priorities now after I spent the better part of 6 or 7 years doing them for him. But somehow to imagine my sister squeezing out this kid, who will be assumed heir-apparant because she got THE name, just pisses me off to no end. I am sure it's jealousy...I am sure it's regret...I am sure it's covetness. And what I am REALLY sure about is - it's a sense of once-again not belonging in the way I have always wanted to. But do I want to have it any differently??? No. I just really wish she'd find a name that didn't have to always slap me in the face and remind me of my mom. And remind me how I don't have any pictures or anything of hers because my good-for-nothing sister took it all and now won't give anything back. I feel like the red-headed stepchild again...the way I felt my whole life. As I sat there Sunday and listened to my dad and her husband and my sister sitting all cozied up in the tv room talking about how her kids have this and that family trait. No one says that about MY kid because regardless of what that adoption paper says...I am not blood. And no matter how far past that I think I am....this baby will always be there to remind me that I am no better off than when I was 12 and my dad's mother died and specifically said I was to get NONE of her jewelry, it was to go to Tami who was FAMILY. And this baby will always be the same as when my sister at age 10 and 12 taunted me that SHE was THEIRS and I never could be. By having an emotional copyright on THE name...it somehow meant I was connected to something or someone. And since my mom has been gone...I just don't feel that way much. But like my mom's wedding rings and her pictures and keychains and stuff... my sister has even managed to take this away from me.

My Waste of Skin, White Trash Sister The big news in the family these days isn't that we saved 30% with Geico but rather that my trailer trash sister is pregnant AGAIN. For those of you keeping score at home, this makes bambino numero 3. I just cannot imagine where, in their living room, they will find room to put a baby. I mean, PJ sleeps on the lounger, Trever on the floor or sometimes the couch...what's left? The coffee table? Maybe if they move their collection of empty Mt. Dew bottles but even then, the baby would have to use the ashtray as a pillow. Personally, I feel that this may be the straw that brings in Children's Services and while I hate to generalize and categorize ALL West Virginia social service agencies as losers, it's been seven years now since Trever was born - severely handicapped - and the child doesn't own a pair of shoes and crawls to get around. What she will do with another baby is beyond me but there she sat, puffed up and preggers like Lady Madonna herself. Apparantly, she' about three months along - this time she used a bad cold as her excuse to have a pregnancy test. I STILL feel incredible pity for that rabbit. When she had PJ, it was a urinary tract infection and I think Trever also got rung up on the "cold" bill as well. For some reason she can't just admit it...it always has to be an accident. On Sunday - as we sat around waiting for The Sponge to finish making dinner (appetizers, incidentally, were raw hot dogs and pickles on toothpicks) - there sat my Jabba the Hut sister, who already has the girth of a woman well past her due date, on a barstool in their kitchen smoking cigarette after cigarette. When I pointed out that maybe she needs to rethink that, she flashed me a fuck dart of epic proportion and snorted that our mother smoked with HER so why should she care. Besides, she has BIG babies anyway. I told her - "yeah, and you turned out stupid. That is why you should care." But she didn't. She just lit another off the one she was already puffing and took a swig of Mt. Dew while Trever rooted through the garbage for some breakfast. She is convinced that this will be the girl everyone always wanted. That is, everyone but me. My dad is already asking her to give the baby to him and the Sponge...I wonder who will have custody when one or both of THOSE two end up in jail? My sister vehemently told them this was HER baby...although helpful-me told her she was only 37 and could well push out three or four more before she was 40 - there was enough to go around!!! (I really do have to stop.) As Susan Powter says...it's insanity. If it's a boy, I have been informed, it will be Seth - after my mother. If it's a girl, it will be Beth Ann - after my mother and my grandmother. I will be trumped and according to my enormously pregnant at 12 weeks sister...she will regain the title of Family Princess. I shouldn't be so bitter but I can't help it. As I looked at my shoeless nephew...and wondered what the black grime around his mouth originally was...I knew I was SO done with this family. Apparantly it isn't enough to have a good job, a home that I own and a child that I keep clean and take to extra-curricular events and a marriage that has lasted for 19 years, knock on wood. No...the real key to success according to these yahoos is to have Sears calling for the $1500 I have stiffed them on, be knocked up with my third kid while the other two eat Easy Bake for lunch that they have managed to fix themselves and have a husband who rarely works and when he isn't, is either whoring around or scoring some pot and laying all doped up at someone else's house. Ah yes, THAT'S the life. How could I have gotten it so wrong?

National Walk to Work Day Can someone explain this to me? I work 11 miles from home. Saying I do a mile in 20 minutes, that would take me 220 minutes or 3.67 hours to actually make it in. Since work starts at 8:00 a.m., this would mean I would have to leave no later than 4:15 in order to guarantee that I wouldn't be late. And of course, this wouldn't be taking into account the additional time spent playing like Frogger across Rt. 30 either or a quick trip through the Drive-Through at McDonald's to get a cappucino since, after all, it IS Friday. Whoever thought this up is still living under the impression that we live where we work. And I don't mean "nearby" - I mean this person thinks we live WHERE we work. For me that wouldn't be TOO bad since I work at a community college. There's a big gym for recreational activity and a cafeteria from which I could grab some dinner or even a late night snack. We have some tv's around and I think they MAY even have cable. There's also high speed internet. So I'd be all set. But the reality is I actually DO have to go to my house. Which is precisely 11 miles away from where I work. Every day I get into the Blueberry and drive 11 miles there and every afternoon I drive 11 miles back. Quite frankly, I think I have a pretty cushy commute. Even if I WOULD walk to work, I don't think it's all THAT bad. What about those people walking up the parkway into Pittsburgh? On a GOOD day traffic backs for miles...I can't imagine what all those walkers would do when they hit the Squirrel Hill tunnels. Drivers grind to a screeching halt before they enter...walkers could back the daily commute up for HOURS if they'd just stop! I am not sure this was a good idea but I am sure we'll see it on the Evening News. If any of my readers walked in today...please let us know and let us know how far you walked. For me...it just wasn't happening.

Great News Last night I took Evan with me to my Sisterhood meeting - somehow I have sacrificed myself for a year as Recording Secretary. After getting a good look at how the new president operates, I am starting to think I may have made a mistake! But I digress... The meeting lasted over an hour and MY son spent the entire time in the shul library engrossed, ENGROSSED I tell ya, in a book on tape! I am shocked and pleased and absolutely beside myself with pride. Reading has been challenging as his comprehension levels have hovered at nearly zero since first grade and he really just hates it. And no wonder. It's tedious for him and if you're not grasping what you're reading, it can be a real chore. Let's not forget college philosophy textbooks! My husband and I have always been concerned but I think my own heart was more broken than anything else. As a child, books were my salvation. They structured a world I didn't have. They provided a mom and a dad and a family I wasn't even close to realizing. On cold, snowy nights when I had to trudge through our acre to feed our outside dogs, I pretended I was Laura Ingalls on the prairie. For a year and a half in 4th grade, I was Harriet the Spy, lurking through our rural neighborhood checking out the neighbors. In 7th grade, I was Robin Hood. I read voraciously and I really feel now, reading is what made me what I am. It showed me worlds I couldn't imagine, people I could never know, values that were far from the ones modelled to me every day. And how sad I have always been that my son was just not interested. Even as a baby, he couldn't tolerate being read to. He liked to be TALKED to but to sit and pore through a storybook? Not a favorite activity. Yes, there were SOME books he loved but it wasn't a deep love. It was a BBD love. You know...I'll read until I get a bigger and better deal. So when I went down to the library to see if he was okay halfway through the meeting and there he was, sitting at a table, bent over the book, listening through his walkman and headphones...my heart was full. Later he told me it was the best book he ever read. I couldn't help beaming. Maybe we have figured out the key to opening the world of books to him but whatever it is, I am probably WAY more excited than he is. This is just the BEST news. His teacher says that lately his reading comprehension is improving so I am hopeful that maybe this tool will even boost THAT. Whatever. It's just a good feeling to see a kid lost in a book!