Some who read already know that from my past blogs on such prestigious sites as MySpace have given my family stories an interesting spin. For those that remain unfamiliar with these long gone entries, let me say, that all you need to know is that one word should stick out in your mind, unconventional. It's a simple word, and I've used all sorts of descriptive phrases in my past to describe my family dynamic, but my New Year's resolution is to paint them (at least for me) in a new light.
I did not spend the traditional days of Thanksgiving, or Christmas with them, instead my sister and I opted for a 4 day stay during the first week of December. The deal was we would cram all the goodness and "fun" of the holidays into 4 glorious days, Thanksgiving dinner, Christmas gift exchange, my Father's Birthday, and all the goodness of the hours in between.
I thought as we drove from Los Angeles to Arnold, that a positive cloud hung over the trip, I bopped along to pop music, laughed, my sister and I took turns driving.
We arrived around Midnight.
DAY 1
This day began like any other, nestled in my bed the sound of a fresh television screen popping on in the living room below me, woke me like the sizzle of bacon. Instead of scrumptous fatty meat products waiting to greet me on the couch, I found the Trinity Broadcast Network (TBN).
If you've never watched TBN then I don't suggest starting, the daytime hours are filled with pretentious holy-rollers, and the nighttime is filled with religious films, that although bare a contemporary release date, the production looks as though they've been stuck in the late 80s.
At 8am I had the first religious reference uttered. This was quickly followed into a long, and epic story...
"Did you hear anything last night?" My Mother uttered to me.
"No."
"No scratching, digging noises from the walls?"
"No." The concern on my face grew.
"You didn't hear anything from inside the closet? You didn't open the door did you?"
"No. Dear God what's going on!?"
"Well there's a...something...I mean, I think it's a chipmunk that's stuck in the wall of the closet."
The rest of the story, although horrifying, seemed typical. Small furry woodland creatures "of some sort" being trapped in the walls and not finding their way out.
"It was a family." she continued, "I could hear the babies crying, I think they died in the walls, and now there's just one in there."
At this point my sister and I begged for story time to end.
"Don't tell you father, he didn't want me to cut a hole in the wall to release it, but I did. So now it's hiding in the closet somewhere."
12:30 my Father arrives home early from work. We sit on the couch and stare at the flat screen.
"So you're almost done with school?" he says.
"Yep."
"Gonna find a job?"
"Yep."
"Maybe you could work on a cruise ship."
Let me explain, for some reason, and this dates back years in my memory, ever since I've worked in theatre my parents believe that working on a cruise ship would be the best environment for me. Along with the fact that my father for the past 8 years that I've been a stage manager cannot seem to remember what exactly a stage manager does, he does however know that entertainment on cruise ships use stage managers, and has persisted each time I see him to acknowlege this fact by hassling me into agreeing to at least apply.
"You could travel like you always wanted to." my mother pipes in.
A clear picture forms in my mind, a large abundance of people flood the decks, two years go by, and the dinner theatre crowd still howls at the musical sing along show, a comedian blubbles with old jokes rephrased, and to top it off my on again, off again, love affair with the ships ventriloquist, goes slowly bust when he informs me that he's jumping ship in Cabo San Lucas for a younger and slightly more enthusiastic massage therapist he met on last months singles retreat, her names Chastity, but "not for long" he says as he leaves me in the windowless and groaning belly of the beastly ship.
"I've already applied and been rejected." I say, unfortuanatly this is true, my last resort had already been used.
I look at the clock and realize the hours would soon approach when Glenn Beck would grace the television. I decided to make my exit early.
"I'm going to take a bath." I wander towards the hallway.
"You're going to miss BECK!" they call out, "Glenn Beck speaks the truth, have you seen how many books he's written!"
"I, uh...the tub takes a while to fill...I'll...." I wander down the hall and out of earshot, I can hear my sister stir from her nap. Poor Bastard, I think to myself, she should have timed it better, as I turn the tub on I can hear from the living room "YOU'RE UP! You're just in time for Beck, he speaks..." The sound of running water drowns them out, it drowns it all out...
Two hours later I emerge, a little soggy, but happier than I would have been. I get there in time for dinner. We decide to use the formal dining room, we haven't done this forever, and I really couldn't remember why not, there's no television present, nothing but pictures of dead ancestors on the walls and the company of some that are still living...
The dinner starts off where we left off...
"Los Angeles, that's working out for you, you know if you live there for too long you get asthma."
My sister, ever resilient, decides to talk over these comments and inform them of her job and life anyways...the conversation dead ends when after the meal is over my father proclaims...
"If I had known I was going to raise two liberals I would have strangled you in your cribs."
My sister and I, we erupt into laughter, he said this with a hint of comedy, but sometimes the best rule is to laugh, somehow laughing makes the moment seem funnier that it really is.
The first day home tapered off into nothing after this, I crawled into bed around 9:30, and having decided to write about this experience I began a log of all the events of the day, in summation I wrote this at the bottom of the first day's entries.
"Love present, yet any kind of realistic compassion is lacking-Nothing New-Must learn to curb anger, due to 1st day encounters and fear of wrathful out bursts & awkward time spent during next few days-Love present but world view narrow-must stay away for longer periods of time in next two years- Embark on adventures- Will never return home-Lack of interest on parentals part in knowing children unable to be corrected-Seek out zen demeanor/empathy for them."
Day 2
Day two went by faster, the days blur together in many ways, we went out and about, stopped in the towns below, and then saw New Moon, because it was the only thing playing at the little movie theatre in our county. The theatre was empty, half way through my mother says, in response to the lead female trying to date a shape shifting wolf "She should just have him neutered."
Day 3
This would be Christmas, we would open presents and try to act cordial. Half the day was spent on the internet. My sister on craigslist, but I had to wait to check my accounts so my parents weren't watching, they use their giant flat screen as a monitor, and the idea of an audience does not appeal to me, as I try to update my facebook status to "Chipmunk Genocide".
My mother comes in half way through my update.
"You have to make a trap."
"What?"
"We need to get that chipmunk...er...whatever it is out of the closet."
"How is this my responsibility." I ask.
"You know how to build things, can't you make a trap, look it up on the internet."
Ten minutes into searching "Chipmunk Trap" I find that most of the entries end with the phrase "Scrape dead chipmunk from bottom of box."
"You should get one of those humane traps from the humane society."
"I don't have time, come on, you have to help me." my mother squeals.
At this point my sister abandon's me, she quickly decides to run outside and scrape pine needles. Dad notices her and runs into the living room, "Hey the girls are scraping pine needles!" He then notices me, sans rake, and and says "Oh, nope only one's scraping." He exits.
"Fine, get me a box and I have string and just leave me to do it."
"Well good, your stuff you left here is in the closet that it's trapped in. You're gonna want to get it out before you have to pack."
"If I find a dead chipmunk in my shoes, I'm not going to be happy." I take the box and head upstairs.
After pine needle raking, and unsuccessful chipmunk trappin' we head to an after dinner movie. My sister gets to pick, this is where we find out that my father has cancelled my mother's subscription to STARZ!, you know that family friendly premium channel not so bold as HBO, and not as raunchy past midnight as Cinemax.
This is when the rage happens, we sit and watch as my mother and father battle over cable prices, the coup ends with a simple phrase.
"This is all I f#*%@ have!" My mother yells.
Next we only hear the sound of a dial tone as my father get directed to an automated operator at the cable company.
"I'd like to reinstate my subscription to STARZ!" He mutters.
Two minutes later, the channel pops back on and we enjoy or premium selection of "Waterhorse", exclusivly on STARZ!
At gift exchange we sit for a moment, and thank each other, and then my sister hands my Father his birthday card.
The birthday card is specially made, made by the transvestite that me sister does make up on, the exterior is a picture of her, and the inside reads,
"You can have your cake and Sheila, too! Happy Birthday Big Boy!"
My father looks confused.
"Who's this woman?"
"Oh, you know Sheila!" my mother tweets.
"Is this the tranny!" my father's eyes get concerned.
"Did you know it was a man when you first saw it, Dad?" my sister asks.
"Yeah! of course I did! I was....uh...you couldn't have mistaken it for anything other...than a...than a...man." My father leaves the room.
Day 4-41/2
The rest is history, those final hours wasted away on television, and earthquake preparedness speeches.
"Are you prepared for when California gets hit by the big one?" my mother asks.
"I'm prepared to ride it out, or die, one of the two." I say.
I think about the refugee chipmunk, I think about the chipmunk trap, still without a chipmunk waiting to be released. I hope that it at least makes it out of the house.
On the morning of departure, we hug and kiss good-bye, not so much out of sadness, but more like a celebration of survival. We wave and head out, we remember a forgotten cell phone and turn back, we repeat the good-byes.
On the way out of town we stop at a gas station and fill my clunky red jeep, smell the fresh mountain air, and buy 3 bottles of wine. Somehow, in some kind of way we made it, 2009 is almost over and we made it...now we wait for 2010.
Happy Holidays! and may the New Year be bright for you and all the days ahead from me to you!
