I just left for work, and LILY CAME OUT OF THE BUSHES!!!!!!
She weighs nothing. Will take picture as soon as I can.
You know, before I got back from vacation (a reader asked me to never say "vacay," so I will not), I made a vow I was not going to fill up my week with something to do every damn night, and yet it's happened again. Yesterday Ned and I spent our lunch hour looking at yet another house (nope) (too close to a really, REALLY busy street), after work I had my student, then tonight we look at another house. Wait. Lemme get you a picture.
I wonder how much I could do with the area of my brain that managed to memorize all the top 40 AM radio songs from 1975 to 1980. The piano player looks like everyone my mother dated before she met my stepfather, who marched in looking like a normal person, and I thought, "THIS one will never last." I really did.
OH MY GOD, this is how my life gets out of control. I have no focus. I have a friend whose family is from...somewhere. Somewhere south of here. Colombia? Whenever I can't remember I go with Colombia. The point is, her gramma used to tell her, "You must fukkus, Cat. You have no fukkus." My friend's name is Cat, which is super cool and I wish I was from possibly Colombia so my name would be Cat. It's probably some long pretty name like Cataralainalarininla and she goes with Cat. I've never asked.
FUKKUS! So, we have that on Tuesday, then on Wednesday we have a little bungalow to look at, and then my friend Charlie asked if I'd visit so I will this week and boom it's the weekend. What I wouldn't give for a nice week where I just get to come home after work and do nothing. I blame Ned.
So ANYWAY. I was gonna finish up about my trip so here we go.
I took Mr. Sparkling Personality, here (it's like once the camera is on him, he turns dour) (you'd think the camera was on him every day or something, to entertain thousands of people he doesn't know), to my college town to show him just everything, and what's sad is how much of that involved bars. "And here's where my friend barfed in the back." "This bar is the one where they'd call me at home if I didn't show up."
It's true, there was a bar like that, and we decided to go to that at the end of the day, the big piece of resistance. I have to stop saying that like it's funny. I'm turning into someone's grandpa. The point is, we ate and shopped and walked all over yonder on campus and went to the museum where I worked for years and finally, FINALLY, we went to that bar. We walked in the front, walked straight through to the back door, and left.
"Oh my GOD, was it always so LOUD in there?" Ned asked, horrified.
"No! No, I....wow. Maybe it was. Wow."
You can't go home again.
So my hair and I took Ned to the Peanut Barrel, which used to let you throw shells on the ground and which now in our clean, politically correct world we can no longer do. I like how peanut throwing has become political. We sat next to four computer geeks, who talked about physics and languages and it was like sitting next to the cast of Theory of Relativity of whatever that show is that I've seen like twice with that guy named Sheldon.
The point is, I would like to listen to MY deep talks that I had at the Peanut Barrel in 1985 and see what pith I came up with.
Eventually we returned to my home town, and on one of the days I took Ned to this old barn place, where they serve only local food, and the menu is quite limited to just what they have that day. It was one of those walk up and look at the board and order right there situations, which Ned is not good with, but he did it.
Sports Illustrated told everyone to send in a photo of them doing something athletic, (I could not pick just one), and they made a big picture of everyone's small picture. Hulk found exactly where his tiny picture is and showed us. He's below the U in Illustrated or something. Am certain he will write in and correct me angrily.
The good news is, he and Ned got to talk about....sports.
"Hey, Ned, sporty sport sports sport sporting!"
"Yeah, ha ha! SPORTS Sporty sport ball sport!"
"Ha ha ha! Yeah. And sport..."
Oh my god I was in a COMA.
At the end of the trip, we returned to our hotel in West Virginia that we always stay at, and it just happened to be homecoming weekend. So while we ate outside, we saw a whole fireworks show. It was an excellent way to end our vacay. Aaaaand now I've lost a reader.
I was tempted to title this "I need a vaCAtion from my vaCAtion!" but I was afraid there'd be that one person out there who didn't know how I abhor that sentence, and they'd be all, "Wow, June is such an asshole."
Anyway, I'm back, and it's Sunday evening, and the pets and I are reunited like Bitches and Herb. Eds is completely exhausted from day care (see him back there, saying, "Fuk dis. Eds tire"?) Iris immediately ran outside the minute I opened the back door. Dose mice not gonna eet demselfs.
In a little while, Ned is gonna call me to have dinner, because it's been so long since we've seen each other. We managed to get along just fine despite spending 256 hours in the car, and didn't even have any fights or anything. Even when he'd get more ice to crunch.
I thought I'd show you some of our vacation shots, because nothing's more interesting than looking at someone's photos. I wish we could all gather around my phone, because that's even more fun, when someone makes you do that. "Come over here and scrinch behind me while I show you things you're completely over after photo one!"
In fact, I have never been to the Rainbow Room, but I like how that's my restaurant pinnacle. Am sophisticated.
When I was a kid, I was a finicky eater, and what ever happened to THAT slip-of-a-thing version of me? The point is, whenever they took me to the Roost I ate like a linebacker. They serve turkey and turkey, and they serve it in about 30 seconds. I am not even kidding. Oh, I love it there so bad, I do.
Despite the fact that your choices are turkey with dark meat, turkey with light meat, a turkey sandwich or that day's soup (the day we were there, the soup of the day was...turkey! Who knew?), Ned still had to look at the menu and ask the waitress to come back. He ended up going with the turkey.
After we had our jive turkey--and really, why don't I take this act on the road--we headed to northern Michigan where my cousin Katie the lesbian, who is outdoorsy, lives with her husband Jason, who is outdoorsy.
Oh, look, there's Jason outdoors. You never see THAT. Jason makes really beautiful furniture for a living, and I plan to write a whole post about it because, man. But look at the link I just put in here, and you will feel not unlike Carrie Bradshaw the first time she entered Aidan's store.
"You know, there's a whole part of Sex and the City that features a furniture maker..." I began, and everyone studiously ignored me. At this point, Ned could recite the whole series word for word and he's barely seen one episode. Honestly, I'm worse than Susan Sharon.
The point of my story is that it was cold up there. I mean cold. Rocky was there punching meat. Penguins were crying ice cube tears. We're talking chilly. Katie told us to bring layers, but I thought she meant maybe bring a loose cotton sweater, when what she really meant was mukluks. I actually don't really know what mukluks are but I think they have something to do with muks winning the lottery.
Here's everyone putting on WINTER COATS to have a bonfire, and I know this is a terrible picture but Ned put the kibosh on the other one I took. "Don't put in that picture of me. I look like a monkey."
"You know, there's an episode of Sex and the City where someone looks like a monkey."
I meant to put in a photo of the buffalo burgers they made us, but happy Tallulah is here again, instead. Lu would have been pleased to partake of our buffalo burgers, but she was in prison all week, at daycare. I watched her on the webcam, trying to play with a fox terrier who ignored her, and it broke my heart in a million pieces. PLAY WITH MY DOG, YOU FOXY POINTY-NOSED BITCH.
Katie and Outdoorsy Jason just moved back to Michigan, from Alaska. They wanted to go to toasty northern Michigan. They sold everything they had before coming back, so although they've bought this adorable house:
They have little furniture. Which is how Ned and I ended up spending two nights in that camper you see up yonder. Believe it or not it was pretty comfy. Ned woke me up both nights to come out and look at shooting stars, and for someone who looks at shooting stars, he does not know more.
I believe both times that he shook me awake at 3 a.m., my wish for him involved fucking and youing. I did, however, stand in the frigid yard and look at stars BEFORE I fell asleep, and they were lovely. Ned asked me to point out where the North Star is, and everyone's a comedian. I knew the Big Dipper or the Big Bopper or whatever pointed at the North Star, but YOU get out your punch ladle and see if everyone agrees where it's pointing.
You will be stunned to hear that Katie and Jason suggested we go for a hike, outdoors, so we did, and then we went to Lake Michigan, because Ned is obsessed with bodies of water. "Which Great Lake is closest to your home town?" he asked me, like that's just something everyone knows. You wanna know what religion Charlotte York is, I got your answer. You wanna know what song reminds Carrie Bradshaw of driving around as a teenager, I can tell you that. The Great Lakes. Pfft.
Look how everyone had to pretend to like me while we were at Lake Michigan. Also, please behold my "hiking clothes," which involved my mom's yoga pants, because outdoorsy? If you were going to describe me in one word...
I see I've droned on for a coon's age and I only covered two days of our holiday. Am clearly British with my "holiday." The point is, I have 9239492393 other photos to go over, and this will be one of those posts where I write write write and upload upload upload and juggle plates while playing Flight of the Bumblebee on my one-man band and? Nothing. No comments for an hour and a half. Crickets.
Cricket, because am clearly British.
So I will tell you more tomorrow, and congratulations.
Love, Susan Sharon (I cannot WAIT for another SATC person to know who Susan Sharon is.) (CANNOT WAIT!!!)
We have left the countryside. Back to my bustling home town. Ned has gained 7 pounds. I eat this much every day, so.
Yesterday culminated in many family members coming over for dinner, and my Aunt Sue took photos on her Samsung, which looked perfectly normal on her camera and got blurry once she sent it to mine. I would dearly love to say that the past 7.5 years of blurry photos, then, are due to my iPhone, but iPhones weren't even invented when I started blogging, so.
Before evening dawned, which makes no sense, Ned and I ate the 950,000 things my mother offered us, and then we took the dog and drove to some woods nearby for a walk, where we got lost, and it was 100% like Blair Witch if one of the lost people had been a speckled dog. Also, my mother's speckled dog could not possibly have more frequently demanded we stop so he could pee on poison ivy. They should just rename the woods Gus Woods, at this point, so marked is that territory.
Oh, and we saw a (hang on, Tee) SNAKE! Ned saw it, as he has snakedar. "Do you want to me pick it up?" asked Ned, as it was a yellow stripy garder snake. You can imagine how I encouraged him with that pursuit.
We dropped in on my friend Hometown Horselady, who comments sometimes, and I have no idea why her parents named her that. She and Ned both work for family businesses, so they talked about that, and the thing they WORK on is similar, so they talked about THAT, and man was that boring. Do you know what else you two have in common? Hello. Could we not talk about ME? God.
Then I am happy to tell you Ned and I drove through a flood--A FLOOD--to get to the bar I hung out in in my youth, which was many, many years ago. I hadn't been to that bar since god knows when, possibly my wedding, and it was just the same.
You know, Ned is not a dreadful person, yet he gets that "I'm dreadful" look as soon as the camera comes out. "That's a good picture of me," he said.
Then I took him to the bar where I bartended, which was built in the 1800s and has a fireplace and it was a perfect spot to hang on a rainy-ass afternoon. My cat-sitter sent me a photo of Iris while I was there!
I'd told the particular Alex who is cat-sitting that there was vodka in the freezer (Are you there, Catsitter? It's me, vodka), tequila in the cupboard and absolutely zero food. Help yourself! What she did not know was Iris would be partayyin' with her mom gone.
My mother watched me re-do my rainy makeup when we got back; my wet hair was ruined beyond repair. "Jooon, your eyebrows are too dark," she said. I looked in the mirror. If you ask me, I was a vision. "I'm a VISION," I protested, and asked my stepfather if my eyebrows looked dark. "They look fine," he said, never looking up from whatever the hell he was working on up there.
Ned walked in. "Are my brows too dark?" "You look beautiful , sweetheart," said Ned, who is terrified of me.
So I ingored my mother, and every photo I took with a relative, I look like Groucho Marx and Joan Crawford and a Dark Caterpillar Face Person. You've heard all the stories about the famous Dark Caterpillar Face Person. All that brow action just serves to make Aunt Sue look even hotter in comparison, which annoys.
Today we are headed to Northern Michigan to see my cousin and eat things.
I'm here at my mother's house in Saginaw, typing on a keyboard that won't stop jiggling. It's like I'm blogging on Charlie's Angels' breasts or something.
Oh. I moved the keyboard down. Now I'm good.
So, we're here. We didn't get here till 10, because we stopped outside of Detroit to visit one of my oldest friends, who I am cleverly going to call Donna. Donna and I met the very first day, first hour of high school. She'd gone to North Junior High and I had gone to South, and we had the same hair, which as you can imagine shot us to the top of the popularity echelon at both our schools.
I went to my homeroom that first day of high school. I had on a burgundy plaid shirt with a white Peter Pan collar, which shot me even further up the popularity echelon. Can you shoot up an echelon? The point is, I saw someone with June hair among the silent-as-a-tomb homeroom and our eyes met.
It turns out the reason the homeroom was silent was everyone was deaf as a post in our room. Everyone. Except us. Oh, and this guy Tom, who was a genius and socially awkward. I mean, he made my plaid short look like I was Bianca Jagger riding into Studio 54 on my white horse. Somehow, the three of us were put in with all the otherwise deaf kids. Is it politically incorrect to say deaf?
We came up with a theory that they took the loudest girl from each junior high and put them in the room where no one could hear them scream.
The point is, as a result of our hair and the fact that we could, you know, hear, Donna and I bonded from day one of high school. Plus, we were in gym together and it turned out we both had a deep love of sports and athletic talents far exceeding all the other people in school.
Once our gym teacher just shook his head at us and told us God helps those who help themselves.
Eventually we somehow DID become socially acceptable in school, and right before senior prom, someone asked me what I was wearing, and I said, "Donna and I are wearing matching long lavender dresses, made of taffetta." Taffetta. The official fabric of 1983.
Later, I was around a corner and heard someone say, "Well, if Donna and JUNE are wearing long dresses, everyone will." I was all, seriously? Have you met our hair?"
Anyway, now Donna has a real job and a husband and children like an actual adult, and I'm all, I watched her pass out on a floor after drinking run and diet frosh, but okay. I guess I'll accept this new Donna.
So we met at a restaurant, and she asked Ned, "What is your life story, Ned? Tell us everything." And Ned was all, "Well, I was born--"
"Oh, that reminds me of a story!" one of us would say, and launch into a story, and then the other would tell a story, and then we'd say, "Oh my god, Ned. As you were saying...."
"Well, I was--"
"OH MY GOD! Did I tell you...?"
I don't think Ned ever got past his first day of life in that life story.
So now Ned is sleeping, and who can blame him for feeling drained after that, and my mother and stepfather are walking their dog, the one who attacked Tallulah when she was a puppy and no I'm NOT over that yet. A mother never forgets.
Tonight my Uncle Leo and Aunt I-blame-Sue are coming over, and tomorrow we drive three hours to stay with my cousin Katie the lesbian. Imagine if this were your first time reading this blog. You'd be all, "WHO?"
Okay, I will talk at you later. As soon as I see Hulk I will burst in with a special bulletin.
Leading the class of '83 in promwear,
P.S. This week's Purple Clover.