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In one of the psychology classes I took the prof commented that what the patient doesn't talk about is usually more important than what they do talk about. same thing is starting to happen with my diary.

sunday morning my dad called. or rather, my step mom called for my dad. When I told Eric who had called he said "You have a step-mother?" so here's the run down: my mom and dad got divorced when my brother was a baby and I was 2. I remember him dating a woman named Diane who worked in a beauty parlor and she would give us faberge eggs that I think she would make. He started dating Ruth (my step mom) after that, or so I thought. A few years ago my dad and Ruth finally got married. I figured my dad was dying soon cuz why else would you go ahead and get married after all those years? He cut back on his drinking since then and isnt so yellow-looking these days. At the reception someone congratulated them at keeping a relationship going for over 20 years. I had looked at my brother at that point and he was doing the math too: "If I'm 22 now, and my parents got divorced when I was 2... and they've been dating for over twenty years... hmmmm"

We never called Ruth mom or stepmother. We didn't like her much when we were young. She's chubby, not obesely so but had a proccupation with undoing our malnutrition all in one weekend. We only saw our dad a couple times a year if that so when we did see them they would notice our growth moreso had they seen us everyday. When we would be over she'd be all about how fat we were and how fat we're gonna be and how sorry we're gonna be and how our bones are gonna break and we're gonna die of heart failure when we're in our 20's cuz we're so damned fat. She still hasn't really laid off the weight thing. She's also all about college degrees and making lots of money. She's like 7 or 8 years older than my dad and obviously started having kids at a young age cuz she's got 6 sons plus one who died (or maybe its five the dead one makes 6) and the youngest of them is Punk (Lyell Jr, I'd go by Punk too) He's like 35 now. Ruth has a grand-daughter my age. Every time I talk to Ruth she says stuff like "Shelli has grown up so pretty, have you lost any weight? Shelli just got her bachelors degree, have you finished school? Shelli just got a new job with great pay and benefits, are you still working that volunteer crap?" etc.

My dad used to drink 30 beers a day. Not even cans, bottles. 30 bottles of Labatt's Blue. He used to have a little cooler beside his bed for when he'd wake up in the middle of the night with the shakes. In my whole life I've never seen that man consume any liquid other than beer. There are solids, gasses and beer. Recently, I guess he's settled down some. He's still alive anyway. The last time I saw him he and Lon and my brother went through a few 12 packs. Though I got the drinking/drugging gene from him, I don't like beer. I rarely finish beer. It tastes like... Dad. Kissing someone who's been drinking beer reminds me of my dad. When I was young I thought that my dad had a special kind of toothpaste that made him smell that way. On one occaision we were over at my (evil) aunt and uncle's house (aunt is one of my mom's sisters) and my uncle kissed me. My uncle is a drunk as well and smelling his beer breath I commented "Uncle Rob uses the same toothpaste as daddy!" (hear it in your head as a Ralph Wiggum voice)

One time my dad took me and my brother camping. Well he took us camping a lot, but on this occaision it was one of the firsts where Ruth didn't come with us. We get to the lake and set up and get a fire going and all that and then Prett asks for something to drink and my dad hadn't brought anything for us. He remembered the steaks and the beer but that's it. Seriously he brought coals and lighter fluid and plates and steak and beer. For an overnight campout.... That was the only food, and not only that but he didnt bring silverware or napkins or cups etc, just steak and beer. He said to my brother "You wouldn't want a beer would you?" Before he could answer yes I suggested we make a store trip, we're going to need some eggs for breakfast. I was probably 10, Prett 8. At least he remembered the steaks. He's good with steaks.

Its not just my dad, that whole side of the family are notorious beer drinkers. When my grammaBarr died there wasn't an immediate funeral. In fact the family waited 8 months to have a funeral. With a family that big I guess you need that much time to round everybody up. Most of us were staying at the same motel, we had the WHOLE motel... and that weekend the family went through three kegs of beer. Kegs as in full kegs, not halves or quarters... not to mention the 12 packs of Mike's Hard laying around. My gramma Barr, whom I'd seen 5 times in my life, had 10 kids, surprisingly all lived to adulthood (example my dad: "Hey kids, did I ever tell you about the time I was swinging from a rope into the river and I landed on a stick that went straight into my aorta and I was stuck drowning, under the water on this stick? My brother noticed something was wrong cuz blood was shooting out of the water every time my heart beat." Just for the record my dad has also cut off the tips of his fingers in a work/alcohol related accident. He also thought the dinner table would be an interesting place to share the story about his cataract surgery in which they kept him conscious the whole time and he remembers them popping his eyeball out and him being able to see underneath his own chin. He also said he wanted to put his eye in his mouth so he could see what that looked like. seriously, I have half this man's DNA... yeah now you're beginning to understand.) I learned a lot about my dad that weekend. After the funeral there was a buffet dinner at some resteraunt. While in line with relatives people started sharing stories about my dad, all of which started out something like this "Remember that time, old farmer Whatshisface showed up on the front lawn with his shotgun screamin about how Art had knocked up one of his daughters..." there were three separate stories about my dad knocking up farmer's daughters. This isn't how or why he married my mom. After high school my dad enlisted into the war and served as a custodian in Germany while most everbody else was dying over in Vietnam. The guys my dad was closest to that he served with all ended up marrying my mom and her sisters and their close friends. My mom and dad were pretty much the last to marry and my mom has even admitted that she got married because "Everybody else was doing it". That was in 1971 I think. They tried to have kids right away and that didnt work so my mom thought she couldnt have kids, or maybe she was even told that she couldnt have kids. They did some drinking and drugging, my dad a lot more than my mom.... They lived on my great uncle's farm way up north in New York. That great uncle is my gramma Barr's brother. It was there that she got pregnant with me in 77. My dad had gotten used to the idea of not having kids. My mom actually wanted to settle down and raise a family so this was a major conflict between the tw of them. My mom had her tubes tied and I was supposed to be the first and last of their spawn but somehow she got pregnant again and they left each other (my dad claims he left her cuz she's psycho and he didnt want kids, my mom says she left him cuz he was a bad father and wouldnt stop drinking and doing drugs). anyway they were happily married before I came along. My mom has actually said things like that to me. My dad not so much.

so my step mom called sunday morning and left a messege that they are worried and I should call them. At first the tone in her voice and just the fact that it was her leaving the messege and not my dad, at first I thought she was going to tell me that he was dead or at least in the hospital with a failing liver. But no, they're just worried about me... as if.

Always remember to quit while you're ahead.

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