Fairy Dogs.

HA! I love kids. That’s what one little kid said to another at the prairie dog exhibit. “Look at the fairy dogs!” she said.

Her older brother pointed out, “Prairie dogs, stupid.”

She still called them fairy dogs. Good for her. Fairy dogs sounds more enchanting.

As we walked past the waterfowl exhibit (loud noisy flamingoes, which makes me think of flamenco dancers, go figure. Actually, I saw an article earlier today that a former flamenco dancer, now a neud model is part of the movement to unionize neud models…anyway…) I thought:

What if zoos were the only places where animals existed?

Dunno if that could work. Though, in one of OSC’s works, that was sort-of true. What kind of would would that be though? Imagine going through life and not SEEING an animal unless you went to a zoo, and if those zoos were RARE…jeez. Imagine your surprise? No bugs, no squirrels, no chipmunks, no mice, no dogs, no cats. Life without a dog wouldn’t be much fun. They add so much spunk to life. They look at you with those loving, adoring eyes…then look at you like they’ve never heard you before when you say, “Sit.”

On second thought…

Back on track, you’ve got to love kids for their outright honesty. Madi got tired towards the middle of the day and started acting out, as kids do when they get overtired. So Billie asks, “Are you being crabby?”

Madi says, “Yeah,” and goes back to being a regular kid.

We got to the giraffes and Madi hops up onto the fence and say, “ExCUSE me, Mr. Giraffe!”

Giraffes are huge muscle-y animals. Ever seen one up close? You can see the muscles rippling under their spotted skin.

On the way out we passed through the monkey house. The monkeys were monkeys, but the REAL exhibit was a six year old little boy I saw with a mullet. That’s right, this poor kid had the business in front, party in the back, FULL mullet. How can a parent do that to a kid?

I took a nap today on the grass, warm in the sun. I believe I can feel the impact on my skin, but it’s a nice summer feeling. The relationship I have with the sun I’m sure will get more strained as summer moves in and I travel farther into the South.

On the way back from the zoo, I noticed a peculiar exit sign on the highway:

NSA
Employees Only Entrance

Oh MAN! The things you see in the DC area!

Names to remember: Gerlack, Druid Hills, Vollmerhausen

May 25th photos

Entry to follow later :o)

Evan’s mom is an awesome cook! Brendan and Evan and I all had dinner at Evan’s house and it was sooo good. I love home-cooked food. We picked up Brendan’s sister Erin after that and went to see Attack of the Clones.

Aw yeah. Awesome movie. And spending time with the three of them is so much fun. Brendan’s sister is great!

I’ve noticed something about the way I think about Brendan too. It’s different than any other boyfriend I’ve had. I dunno exactly what that means. I think it’s good. :o)

***this is a note for myself to write up all of the past-related stuff from the previous couple of days…stuff that needs to be done for the book-part of this trip and not just for the journal***

On an off topic, for you women out there, how exactly do you maintain sanitary standards in the public wee-rooms? Do you put TP on the seat, do you use the “hover” trick? If those specially made covers are there, do you use them?

See, I ask because when I went to see AOTC last night (that’s episode II of star wars for those of you who live under large rocks) and had to wee 30 min into the movie. And not just a twinge of “oh dear I’d better go.” More like painful tinges of “Get yourself to the potty.” Dang it. AOTC is constantly in action, so it’s not like there’s a “slow” bit that you can take a break with. So I booked it to the ladies room and because I was in such a hurry, I didn’t put any TP down and didn’t hover. O_O

Dear me.

However, I DID wash my hands. There are lines. :o)

The drive today took 10 hours and was only supposed to take SEVEN. Traffic got icky on the Bronx Expressway and I was toast on the Jersey Turnpike. Jersey also smells funky. Very funky.

Do you know how hard it is to find a decent radio station as you move state to state?

Bzzz. Static. SHRIEKING HIGH PITCHED NOISE. Crackle. Snow. Country. Stupid jingles. Tool! OH! Something good! (By ten pm, I was saying that out loud). THEN…*crackle* *crackle* black and *Crackle, snow, bzzz*

Damn.

I also have to admit that I did something VERY VERY STUPID in Connecticut. I responsibly filled up my gas tank at 200 miles (I tend to try to do that since my fuel guage isn’t reliable). I went into the store and got a six inch subway sub (mmmm, non-greasy) and refilled my water bottle. I walk back out, scrounging in my bag for my…

Keys. Keys that are in the ignition of MY LOCKED CAR.

Can some of you remind me to hit a hardware store and get a spare set made?

I had to call the cops and a nice police officer by the last name of Page unlocked my car in about three seconds. Amazing. I need to learn how to do that. Of course, I’d need a slim jim, and that would be in my trunk, that if the keys were in my car, WOULD BE LOCKED INSIDE.

*insert angry embarassed face here*

Man, Dave told me tonight that Dr. Stahl has terminal cancer. O_O He’s flying up there to say his goodbyes, so next week I get to visit Sara and will see Dave on my way back. If you see Dave around, give him a hug. He needs one.

page of photos

As for the rest of the entry from yesterday and today…dear lord I’m tired. Lemme see what I can get written tonight. o_O

May 22, 2002
Today I set out from Melvin Village and on my journey into the South. I didnít get far, got stopped up in Manchester with a trip to the bank, seeing my two roommates from this past semester, getting things settled before I took off.
You can expect things to happen and make mental predictions in your head, but when they actually happen, they can put you in shock. My mother told me last night that unless my father has a dramatic change in the next few weeks, sheís going to leave after my sisterís graduation.
Shock.
There really isnít anything else to explain it. Sure, Iíd seen the behavior. My parents not talking directly to one another, deliberately staying in different rooms, my father getting more stressed and easily angered, my mother more critical. Last night my father kept getting continually pissy and taking it out on me, so I asked him what was up.
He said, ìYour mother and I arenít doing too well right now.î
I said, ìObviously.î
He looked at me, brow furrowed, his anger playing on the surface. ìHow do you know? Your mother talk to you?î
ìNo. Iím not stupid.î Then I walked downstairs. Staying away from him when heís like that is easier than dealing directly with him. Let him stew, then go to sleep. He kept after me though, getting nastier the way heíd done before Iíd started to change everything.
I told him, ìEither you knock it off, or Iím leaving tonight.î
An engine sounded in the driveway. My mother had gotten home. Dad looked at me. ìI have a headache, Iím going to bed.î
The tension in my shoulders eased a little bit. No more fighting tonight at least. My mother came in. ìWhatís going on?î I asked.
ìHang on, I have to use the bathroom,î she said.
When she came back out, we sat down and talked and she told me what I said before. She canít take how selfish he acts, the things he does to make everything the way he wants it, how unsupportive he was for her, and me and my sister.
Then she said, ìI feel bad that I didnít do this sooner. The way I grew up, without a father around, I didnít want my kids to grow up that way. Now I realize that he hasnít been much of a dad for you, and I wish he could have. He has problems, and heís made choices, and heís had twenty two years, and heís wasted them.î
I couldnít stop the tears. I donít cry easily.
ìDonít be sad,î she said. ìPlease donít be sad.î
I had to struggle to get the words out. ìIím not sad. Iíve been waiting for over a year for you to say that, since I was a little kid for you to say those words.î
I left the next morning, this morning. My sister hates my mom right now, calling her ìThe Bitch.î Aubrey doesnít know any better, sheís wrapped up with my father and thinks that Mom is hurting him, but she isnít. Dad is hurting himself, and itís all we can do to get him to see. Iím afraid now that heís going to quicken the pace of his self-destruction and heíll never get the chance to see.

The drive to Manchester is a familiar boring route. I did happen to find Vanilla Coke (if youíve been around me for the past couple of days, then you know that Iíve been looking since it came out last Wednesday). I love the stuff now, way better than Cherry Coke. Any of the Southern readers will agree with the importance placed on new Coke flavors. The sole Yankee who would agree with me would be Tom, who has graciously provided me a place to sleep for the night (a mattress, much better than the floor!). Because of the tension at my parentsí place, I left a couple days earlier than Iíd planned, so now Iím planning and traveling at the same time. Daunting, but fun.
Someone once told me that finding a good friend is easier than finding a good roommate, but in the past few weeks, Iíve found both in Paige and Lora. I had dinner with them tonight, though in the past week weíve been regulars at the Red Arrow, we went to Blakeís because of the relatively early hour. The Red Arrow is only meant for late-night jaunts. On the way, Paige told a story about what sheíd seen earlier.
Across the street from the schoolís lower campus entrance there used to be a blue house/apartment building. The school had purchased the house when it came up for sale earlier in the year, but because the building was so far below code, it was easier for them to tear the place down rather than fix it up to use for student housing. Theyíd started the process early this week in the demolition. Earlier today, Paige had come across a neat little scene: the half-torn down house with three of our monks standing in front of it, hands in their habit pockets. ìI wish I had a camera,î Paige said. Then she continued, in typical Paige-fashion, ìI mean, I have I camera, but I wish I had one on me then.î
ìI know what you meant,î I said.
ìJust making sure,î she said.
Paige does a lot of that. It helps, because thereís a lot less miscommunication and a lot more fun. Lora always joins in and with the three of us; itís a consistent barrage of one-liners. The litmus test lately for any possible men in our lives is the guyís ability to keep up with us and have fun. Paigeís last date, Jay, had been a perfectly nice boy, but rather boring and overwhelmed when he and Paige went with me and Lora over to the Red Arrow. Cross that boy off the list. Too boring.
Paige also tends to go off on a lot of tangents, which keeps our minds fairly alert. Recently, in a conversation about children and sex, Paige announced, ìNow isnít a good time for a baby or an STD.î
To which I replied, ìIs it ever a good time for an STD?î
So many openings, so little time.
At Blakeís we waited forever for our food (and Lora had class at 6:30) and ended up talking about where Iíd live in the coming months.
ìYouíll be homeless,î Paige said. ìA bum.î
ìIíll live in a van down by the river,î I said.
Lora and Paige started giggling. I reconsidered. ìExcept, Iíd have to buy a van. Thatíd be more expensive than Iíd intended for being a bum.î Scratch that plan.

Iíd made plans earlier this week to get together with Marissa tonight, and with Owen being taken care of by my sister, I could spend the night there. However, Marissa seems to be among the missing, both on AIM and when I called her house a couple of times. Iíd talked with Connie about my parents and she offered a futon at her house, but they had to get up early. Same with Levesqueís house in Salem. I couldíve stayed with Paige and Lora but the hard floor on my already sore back wouldnít lead to any good rest. Then Tom logged onto AIM, surprising me. Tom usually isnít out of work till eleven, eleven-thirty, and it was only nine.
ìYou wonít believe what happened,î he said.
Actually, I probably would. Tomís job has been dangerous to his health for the past year heís worked as a residential instructor. Too many times heís ended up beaten and in the hospital from a restraint, never his fault. ìWhat happened?î I asked.
ìI was playing soccer and I got my foot stuck on the uneven ground and fell flat on my face. I have a sprained ankle.î
I should also mention that Tom isnít the most graceful of people, but he has one of the most graceful hearts I know. He and Angie (his fiancÈe) offered me a mattress in the extra room at their place, and Tom went out to the Red Arrow with me. I had to leave a tired, sick Paige at the yearbook office, desperately trying to finish up the yearbook by tomorrowís one pm deadline. I told Tom and he suggested that we bring Paige a grilled cheese and root beer to go. Good man, Tom.