I Know It's a Long-Ass Post, But It All Has to Go Somewhere

We went back to Houston late on Friday, arriving at about 12:30am. We went to sleep and I awakened Jethro around 10:30am so we could see my grandmother during visiting hours. After a gorgeous fight complete with name-calling and hand-gestures, we left.

We get to the hospital and the ICU staff is looking daggers at us. I thought it was because my very large family had been plaguing them during non-visiting hours. Not so. My grandmother, discontent with being the least grieviously ill person in the ICU, had caused quite the ruckus while my aunt, a succubus from the very deepest pits of Hell (otherwise known as NYC), was on the phone bothering the hospital staff.

Now, I can't entirely blame my grandmother. She was being moved to her bed by an orderly and her catheter became entangled in the sheet covering the chair she had been sitting on. One scream didn't have an instantaneous effect, so she continued until the entire ICU was in a blind panic.

Meanwhile, my aunt from Hell (aka NYC) heard all this, and called everyone from the top down and gave them what I can only imagine was the verbal equivalent of a jalapeno infused enema.

Then she called my sisters to bitch at them for not being psychically aware of the situation, threatening to come down and handle everything herself (like she ever would). "I'm a hell of a lot scarier than any of you," she informed my sister. "Damn right," said Sis. "Pol Pot is less scary than you."

By the time Jethro and I arrived, things had calmed down some, but the nurses were none too pleased with us. My grandmother was somewhat sickly looking, but I'm pretty sure she was in her element with an entire hospital staff at her beck and call (albeit somewhat bitterly).

After visiting my grandmother, I went to my sister's (who's marrying the Brit) bridal shower. Three sisters and I all drove together and it was actually kind of a fun ride. We ran out of gas a little bit on the freeway and had to coast to an exit with a service station, only just making it because we were going downhill, and passed a girl in a truck who had a bumper sticker that said, "I Used To Have A Lot of Nice Things and a Wolf. Now I Only Have a Wolf." She was wearing a hat with animal ears, and we passed her up just to get a better look. I don't know how to explain how funny this was, but one of my sisters made wolf-ears with her hands as we passed, looked back and asked, "Did she recognize?" I am still laughing about it.

We arrived at the shower where I was asked unceremoniously and without prelude whether Jethro and I had been married in the (Catholic) Church, by one of the guests whom I hadn't seen in about 15 years.

Just for the record, it isn't wise to ask me this question. But not for the reasons you would think. I know it isn't their business, blah, blah, blah, but I can't find it in my heart to be offended or hurt by people who care so much about me that they would flout protocol in such a spectacular fashion. No. The reason it isn't wise to ask me about it is because I will talk for about 45 minutes without ceasing on the reasons why I am not married in the Church, my issues with religion, my views on theology and dogma, my admiration for religious people even though I feel no need to subscribe, and the fact that I someday want to try anal again just to make sure I really hate it and I don't want to have to go to confession about it.

I warned you.

I fell asleep early Saturday night, intending to visit my grandmother again the next day. We were packing up Sunday morning, when I found myself in the throes of some kind of depression. I was crying for no reason at all, and I could barely move. Somehow I made it to the hospital to see my grandmother. She was all doped up on something that I wanted.

I sat with her for awhile while she drifted in and out of consciousness. I stood up to get her some water and found myself in the throes of some kind of vertigo. I was so dizzy I could barely walk. I don't know for sure what caused it, but I think it was some of the electronics in her room. I'm susceptible.

I waited until my sister got there and left, staggering drunkenly out to the waiting room where Jethro was waiting with the kids. I tried Jethro's tried and true vertigo remedy, which has always worked before, but to no avail.

We left the hospital and started driving back to New Town. We decided to stop and see my family on the way out because I was dry-heaving in a little plastic to-go cup. I went and laid down on my mom's couch and asked her to give me a hug. I'm a pussy.

After resting awhile, we started on again. I was disappointed we were going to miss the Super Bowl, but we didn't want to get back too late. We stopped at a convenience store where I got me some seltzer, Motrin and out of pure desperation, Dramamine.

Then we stopped at a diner for dinner and I took the dramamine.

Hellllooooo Sally. Where has this shit been all my life? I was in pure heaven after about half an hour. No more vertigo, no more depression, no more anything. I was happy and drowsy and rattled on nonstop to Jethro about everything from the punk scene (Don't come to me with your pink hair and pierced face, or your raggedy clothes and caustic wit and demand respect for being different. No one gives a shit, least of all me. Go to a country where you could disappear for bucking the "establishment" and I'll give you all due respect. But here? Within the last 60 years? Gimme a fucking break.) to business (reminder to self: find local produce growers tomorrow).

We tried to find the Super Bowl on the radio, but the signal kept fading. We kept it on anyway.

I had dozed off for awhile after listing the merits of raisng rabbits as a source of protein, when I heard the radio give a particurly loud blast of static. I bolted upright and yelled "TOUCHDOWN!!!! It's the Giants, right? They're winning now, right?"

Jethro's hands gripped the wheel and he said, "I think they've fucking won it!"

"NO!"

"Yes!"

The signal broke through for a second and we heard the score: 17-14 with 35 seconds left.

The signal went out again, and we listened with baited breath to the static. We were pretty sure we knew when the game was over, but we weren't sure who had won. We found out on another station.

Good game. Wish I'd seen it.