My dad’s 60th birthday is on the 6th of June. Despite all the drama that is way in the past between us, I am not going to be singing that sad country song, “I wish I could have been there for that.”
I also don’t have enough miles to fly home. So eff it. I’m going to drive.
The irony is, I have to drive my now boyfriend to Florence prison for his DUI on June 2nd. I pick him up June 3rd. Then I’ll take off for PA on the 4th. I’ll admit: If my life were a screen play, the story line would be as transparent as Janet Jackson’s warddrobe malfunction at Superbowl-IV-whatever. Nixy meets drunk, falls in love, takes care of his ‘ace’ until all is well.
The dirty thing is, I’m hoping that while I’m in PA visiting, well, my Pa, I get to see the first DUI man I stood by. The great Angel. And, if I’m lucky, I can stay in humid hell central long enough to catch the Sawks playing the Sillies. What the h-e-double-hockey-stick? I’m driving, after all.
The irony never ends. Thank God I’m getting an oil change on June 1st.
I really want to know what all this is for. I will be the first to admit that I am so tired. I have big dreams, and little money. I can’t let that get me down, though. I have to think positive, hokey as it may sound. I know I can do it. “Doing it” here means making enough money to survive and do the things I want to do. Keep my house, write books, help people. Not necessarily in that order. I just want to be happy. Is that so bad?
I feel like one of the Beaudelaire orphans (and if you’ve never read Beaudelaire’s poetry, you totally won’t understand the apropos way Lemony Snicket used Beaudelaire as the last name of the protagonist orphans in his books). Unfortunate things keep happening to me, and somehow, I’m always trying to puzzle my way out of my latest crisis. A cross country drive might do me a world of good.
I’ll end this post on one word: Crikey!
