So. On Saturday after the campers left, my parents and grandma picked me up. After some time in Nashville, IN, we made our way back to Blueberry Cottage, the legitimate name of the cabin they'd rented out. It was cute enough, but after three weeks sleeping on a cot or on the ground, I was given one of the four couches. Somehow, it was still better though, so I wasn't even ready to start complaining. I also hadn’t slept in air conditioning for a while, and there was some comfort in requesting blankets. Mom spent a lot of time talking about harvesting basil. I spent a lot of time talking about camp; something I've learned will fall on deaf ears. I think we both tuned each other out. No one at home understands Gollywop language and Boogaloo. And I know nothing about gardening. (I need to go water the plants, now that I think about it. Give me a minute…)
Speaking about gardening and growth and such… I took care of a spider for
Mom! That’s me,
Official badass of the Bush-Markle-Thompson-Webster-Dunahee-Collings family.
Need a spider taken care of? Call me and I’ll eat it. I’d drive to Centralia just to eat a spider. My heart
swells with pride at the sight of disgusted looks. I’ll eat that spider, but I
won’t eat a hamburger. I just realized that. Whatever.
When we settled into Blueberry Cottage, we snuggled into a few of the
couches. Jim and Grandma were watching Road House. Jim likes boy movies, and
Grandma gets all hot and bothered ‘bout Patrick Swayze. And Mom wouldn’t stop
bitching about it. We shot her some looks, because she always gets to watch
what she wants. Jim deserves Road House after all the episodes of Project
Runway he’s sat through. But Mom kept with the resentful comments like, “I just
don’t like all of the senseless violence,” and “this is so predictable… I could
write this shit.” That’s her famous line. And I took a long-avoided shower just to escape the nonsense.
When we were all presentable, we tripped our way out the door. We were all geared up to go to Indianapolis
to the Cannoli Queen. Oh, my god it was so good. I suggest you go, especially
when you’re having a bad day, because she’s super adorable and hugs your heart
with her smile. But just as I got my new ear buds in and started to listen to
some Chris Bathgate, there was a whole bunch of honking. Apparently, the car
alarm system had been tipped off. It thought we were trying to steal it! I
thought the whole thing was hysterical, because when you’re a camp counselor,
you learn to laugh at disasters—it makes life a lot nicer thing to live
through. And it also kind of reminded me about that scene in Little Miss
Sunshine when their car horn keeps going off… that’s my favorite part in the
whole movie! It’s such an Irving-esque way to remind you how desperate and
ridiculous the whole situation is. But Mom and Grandma started yelling and Jim
started shaking his head.
And Grandma was yelling all kinds of panicked orders, and Mom was yelling at
her to stop freaking the fuck out… neither got their way. Grandma wanted to
call everyone who had ever touched a car in their life, and Mom wanted Grandma
to change a major part of her personality… at the ripe age of 72. The two of
them were cat fighting. I actually know what that means… because I have cats
and they fight. So I’m kind of an expert. And it looked just like that. Mom was
saying intentionally hurtful things, and Grandma was taking anxious to a whole
new level of irrational. I thought I was going to crawl out of my skin. At
least cat fights end quickly. The alarm stopped sounding as we drove, but the
blue light by her steering wheel was beating to the time of the music I’d
turned up only loud enough to drown out their screeching and hissing. I wanted
to smash that little, taunting bulb. It’s a good thing Jim’s the driver.
Meanwhile, empty clouds teased the city with a drop or so. We still have no
creek, by the way. L The sound of thunder makes me bitter now. I hear it
night after night, and I still live in a creek-free reality. I would growl back
at the thunder if I didn’t think the thunder was a honey badger.
I did come out of Nashville with goodies on a way less depressing note! I
bought myself some art and earrings from a cute little store called The Purple
Fig. And I received Philosophy Body Wash that smells like PINK ICED ANIMAL
COOKIES! You wonder, hm? How does this
work? And I suggest you take my word for it, because it’s beyond your
comprehension. I also got some eye-shadows for every day of the freaking week.
Like, they’re titled different days, and the best part is the cute little descriptions
that match each color. And then the box they came in. That was pretty cute too.
I don’t want to get rid of it. Pencil case perhaps? AND me Mama and Papa got me
ear buds with OWLS on them. Try to top the cuteness of that. Just try.
Then I came home and got in a bunch of fights with my parents and cried a
bunch. But not before (actually, that’s a figure of speech. We fought before and after) I got to enjoy their new
little yummy creation involving home-made pesto, local cheese, and artisan
bread. Okay. It has a name. It’s bruschetta. But I’m going to pretend my
parents invented it, because somehow that makes it taste better. It tastes like genius.
And because we have really exciting lives, we noted that Baby Kitty had been
out for a while and that was worrisome. We wondered if she ate mice out there.
We acknowledged that Maybeline is not nearly as glamorous without the fur they
shaved off her due to fleas. Grandma brought up a bunch of depressing subjects
that we groaned at. “Let’s talk about Darren…” actually Grandma… let’s not. We
chatted more about things we found interesting despite the fact the rest of the
table didn’t. We at 1111 Vine just like to talk, I think.
Today, Kelsie and I took pictures of ourselves on my webcam. They’re super
cute. You can look at them here. Then she left. Then I got a cherry-coke Icee
from Burger King with Kyle. We usually go to McDonald’s with Jacob to make fun
of Fox News, but somehow without Jacob, it’s just depressing. He’s way better
at witty than I am, and I can’t just watch
Fox News without getting sick to my stomach. Making light of it is the only
way to handle the piles of stupid they feed their viewers. I couldn’t handle
that, so I opted for BK.
This post is getting really boring. I’m gonna stop now. I’m sorry if you
fell asleep and now you have a bunch of Js and Qs on the Word Document you
accidentally opened when your head hit the keyboard. Sorry. But if that didn’t
happen… actually I’m still sorry.