back for another round of fun
HAH! I'm BACK! Yeah, I bet you thought you were rid of me, huh? Well, don't count your weasels before they pop, dink. Because now I'm back to tell the story, and chances are you're going to read it. So, let the fun begin.
Day One: November/21
Let's just put it this way: I wouldn't wish such a car trip on my worst enemy (okay, well, maybe I would). FOUR HOURS in a CAR with my PARENTS, people. Yeah, I realize most people've had it worse than that, but this is coming from a person who goes from day to day without saying more than a sentence to one or perhaps even both parents. That, and I have fairly sensitive motion sickness. To the point where I can't frolic on the swings, even. (Hint: Cash donations provoked by pity and/or sympathy will be graciously accepted.)
But anyway, during the last hour, I was having a hard time clinging to the rope of conciousness, and felt myself slipping into sleep mode far too many times than necessary. This wouldn't be a problem, really, except that I wear contacts. Blinking keeps contacts moist, thus sleeping, otherwise known as a lack of blinking, causes contacts to dry smack onto your eyeball. 'Pain' is the name of the game, folks.
Eventually we arrived in Hudson, Iowa, which is where my aunt lives. This is where the explanations start as far as the cast goes.
My mom has a brother and a sister. To simplify things, my mom's brother'll be referred to as my uncle, and then her sister as my aunt. Their respective spouses will be known as 'my uncle's wife,' etc. My aunt has three children -- Dave, Sue, and Steve. Sue's really the only one I'll be speaking of, and she has three children of her own -- Kyle, Cody, and Cory. My aunt has chronic health problems, so the day before Turkey Day, as the tradition goes, my family and I scoot down to my aunt's house. On Turkey Day itself, we then drive to my uncle's house, while my aunt and her husband stay behind. That night we drive back to my aunt's house, and usually make the journey back home the next day.
But yeah, now that that's been covered, Hudson, Iowa. Hudson looks like it was a little too fond of the 50s and never quite made its way into the following decades. The drug store (yes, singular) is open from 9:00 AM to 5:00 PM, then closes on the weekends. Any given illness you contract will have to conform to those hours. That's just the way the cookie bounces, right? But wait, it gets better! If you live on one side of the highway, your mail gets delivered to you. If not, you have to venture to get the mail yourself. Ah yes, hicks in their natural habitat.
It was a little surprising seeing my aunt, to say the least. She had a stroke in January, then found out she had breast cancer shortly afterwards. She was already so ridden with other health problems that when she underwent chemotherapy, it killed off over 99% of her red blood cells. Nowadays she sleeps frequently, when she isn't in too much pain. She looked like she walked straight out of a concentration camp when I saw her that day -- little hair, clothes loose on her from the sudden weight loss, and her eyes looked so incredibly tired, like she was skipping hand in hand with Old Man Death. Because of her stroke, she has a minor emotional inbalance, so sometimes when she stood up she began to cry. A mixture of pain and shame, I imagine.
Not much else happened, besides tripping into the guest bedroom and passing out in exhaustion. My parents got a bed, whereas I got the floor. Sue and her children were visiting my aunt as well, but being younger than my parents, they slept out in the living room in sleeping bags.
Day Two: November/22
That morning I made the discovery that I didn't pack as well as I thought I had. One of the many things I realized I was missing was a razor. Hoping my mom would have a little more insight than I, I asked her if she'd brought one. She explained that she hadn't and began rummaging through a drawer in the bathroom.
'Here's one,' she said, handing me a razor. As she shut the door behind her, she added, 'Oh, and be careful, okay? Last time I used that kind I was bleeding all over the place. Have a nice shower!'
The first thing I noticed about the razor of death was that it was made by Bic, who also, coincidently, happens to make cheap pens that you can purchase in bulk. After thinking for a moment, I concluded that pen companies shouldn't make razors. You know, just as a general rule of thumb.
The second thing I noticed was how primitive it looked. Maybe my aunt's husband bought razors in excess during the Cold War, just in case. Just scouted out the cheapest ones, the ones with ONE BLADE, then bought shopping carts filled to the brim with them, along with a 'BUILD YOUR OWN INEXPENSIVE BOMB SHELTER (only illegal in states that begin with a C)' kit.
After I got ready and whatnot, my parents and I once again dragged ourselves into the car and began making our way down to my uncle's house.
'Mom,' I asked somewhere along the way, 'what city does he live in again?'
'He doesn't live in a city.'
After a brief pause, I replied, 'Say what? How would you make out his address on an envelope?'
'Put down the nearest town, I guess.' This said 'nearest town' happens to be DeWitt, which, when said, sounds like 'dimwit,' and in turn brings to mind 'dimly-lit bulb.' That just figures.
As I continued staring out the window at the lush scenary (i.e. fields of dead corn stalks, hay, and gnarled trees as far as the eye can see, along with your occasional barn that would collapse when pushed gently), I noticed a sign along the highway:
2 MILES
Independance would be a town, by the way, not a tourist trap. Although that would be pretty funny. 'Buy your independance for only 73�!'
Less than ten feet later, I saw a second sign:
1 MILE
Meanwhile, I think to myself, What the hell? Less than five seconds ago they said it was two miles, but --
NEXT EXIT
I see.
Turkey Day usually ends up being a pretty dull holiday, when you factor in the general lack of conversation and the blaring football game. I'm never quite sure how the TV manages to get booted up so loud, considering most of my family doesn't like football. Personally, I think they'd be better off ditching all of that gear and playing for fifteen minutes straight instead of stretching it over two hours. It's like a near-empty container of peanut butter, if football was anywhere near the proximity of peanut butter's greatness. You might as well generously spread the remaining peanut butter over a cracker instead of trying to make a sandwich that you can't even tell has peanut butter in the first place.
Not only was Turkey Day particularly grim when you consider that football was included, but a total of five hours was spent on the road. With infuriatingly lame scenery, I might add. I was excited to see a cow. Ecstatic to see five or six of them walking in a row. In a row! Damn, you can't even get humans to do that!
Later on when I arrived back at my aunt's house, I was on the phone with my koishii when someone knocked at the door.
'Yeah?' came the reply.
'Hey, Kate, wanna shoot some pool with us?' According to my mom, Kyle had been trying to get me to do something with him for the past two days, but every time he turned to ask me, I was on the phone. I don't see what the problem is. I have to retain some sort of contact with the outside world before the corn begins to get to me.
'Uh, not really,' I responded hesitantly.
'Do you want to do anything?' Kyle asked again. Meanwhile, I was vaguely amused that anyone was that desperate to do something with me.
'I can't, I'm not dressed.' I, of course, meant this in the sense that I was all decked out in my sleeping garb.
'Oh,' he said, apparently satisfied with the excuse. 'How about tomorrow?'
'Sure, why not?'
My mom came in the room an hour or so later and told me that she had encouraged Kyle to go ask me if I was up for doing anything, and when he came back, he reported that I had declined, but that he wouldn't tell my mom what else I had said.
That, obviously, made my mom curious. 'Why, what did she say?' she questioned.
'She said she wasn't dressed.' Kyle must lead a very sheltered life under that rock of his (Wisconsin, close enough). Not quite sure what he was thinking was going on there, but it was humorous either way.
Day Three: November/23
And finally, the day of departure arrived. My parents and I pretty much packed everything up and were set to go by early afternoon, but I wasn't allowed to leave until I played pool with Kyle. This presented a problem. I'd never played pool before. I still haven't, really, since I only tapped the ball, missed miserably, then sulked over to the N64, a system I'm not too fond of. I played the new James Bond shooter with them instead, which, surprise surprise, definitely does not shock the monkey. Golden Eye was better than that, for Aya's sake! For some reason or another this new one cut back on the options. No matter. It just further proves that RPGs still reign supreme.
I went back upstairs soon after, after I'd had enough of having my ass kicked by an 8-year-old. My mom, Sue, and my aunt all pressured me into playing the piano, somehow claiming it'd be a birthday present for my aunt, whose birthday is in a week or so. I don't like playing for an audience, so it took awhile to gain the courage to play something, even though it wasn't quite audible. My aunt told me that she knew I was talented when it came to music, and that me playing inspired her. She started crying before she could finish, so Sue did so for her.
'Your playing inspires her to get better so that she can play the piano again.' My aunt does play the piano herself, but word on the street is that she plays everything loudly and pays little attention to the given rhythm. I don't think that's very important -- you're supposed to play an instrument for yourself, not for others, right? That's my take on it, at least.
After my aunt's husband got a few pictures of us on his camera, we left. Sue told me I should be a model, for whatever reason. I'm thinking she just wants to borrow money. My aunt thanked me for playing the piano, even though I'm fairly sure she didn't hear jack. I said 'ja ne' to Kyle, which is Japanese for 'later,' and he tried to say it back. Four hours later, I threw open the back door to my house and kissed the floor, so unbelievably happy to be back in civilization.
And now it's three in the morning and it's time I drag my sorry carcass to bed.
Oh, and does this new layout shock the monkey, or what? The best part about it is that it's nearly impossible to look at the picture of that screaming cat and then read a diary entry and even begin to take it seriously.