Up next: twenty-two hours driving through the desert with Henry Hill, the sloppy faced Pit Bull. It’s either going to be one of those adventures that gets told with wild, flailing hand gestures (“You’re not going to believe this…”) or just one hand gesture that looks remarkably like a gun firing into my temple. After all, I signed myself up for this.
At 5AM, my sister and I are heading off in our Uhaul-Honda caravan to glamorous Utah, to move her in with my pops. Then, sans drool-faced dog or my sister, I’ll make the desert trek back to Dallas. Fun, right? Ignoring the drive through Tumbleweed, USA, there’s a huge upside to this move. For starters, my sister gets a Do Over and my dad gets one, too. Years ago, when the divorce tornadoed through the house, my dad took shelter in another state, leaving behind a sixteen-year-old girl who needed her dad. I was a billion miles away, probably drinking a bloody mary, at the time, and oblivious to the whole ordeal. Maybe five years is too late to get back what was, but it’s not too late to get your hands on something new and good. Not that my old man will openly recognize Henry Hill as something new and good – seeing as he’s the type of guy to make a lot of noise about hating dogs, but then very quietly be overjoyed that there’s some dopey, tail-chasing brute around to talk to, and to snuffle around the kitchen floor making a broom as dustpan all but unnecessary. The man isn’t, shall we say, fastidious. Which brings us to another bit of upside. My sister is like a tattooed, pierced Donna Reid. Nobody takes care of folks like she does. And probably nobody could use it more than my dad.
There is a downside, of course. One, being that my sister will stay far, far away when I make the trip back. And as much missing as I’ll do, I think it’s hit my mom the hardest.
“Maybe you should start acting more helpless so she will still feel needed,” my younger sister suggested. “Like maybe suddenly forget how to tie your shoes.”
I laughed, remembering all the necessary mom functions of childhood.
“Like, Mom! I need help wiping. Moooommmm!“
“Ooh, or fall in. That always happened to me. She had to hold me above the seat.”
“Sadly, I don’t think I could fall in if I tried.”
I guess it’s probably best for everyone if I stick to stick to the shoe-tying scenario.
KEY: Books on tape
“Ignoring the drive through Tumbleweed, USA”
Ah, tumbleweed. Wonderful commodity. Collect some; get rich; laugh at your former boss!
Look:
http://www.businessweek.com/smallbiz/0003/ep3666038.htm
(If that fails you could always sell your sister, I guess.)
Just take mom out for a night on the town, dressed as pirates, or at least to a movie.
i’m sad for you and your mom, but really happy for your dad. what a joy to have his daughter around. hooray for tattooed, pierced Donna Reid.
have a safe trip.
HEY Utah…..why any of us actually choose to live here is beyond me. After 24 years the excuse that “the mountains are beautiful” is getting a little old, especially since I don’t even know how to ski.
Good luck to your sis in the land of the righteous
. Hope she makes it out of this place with her sanity in tact. The mountians are beautiful though and while it is still hot here I bet the lovely fall weather pops up really soon.
Welcome to Utah sista. If you need someone to generally carouse around with you gotta friend here…
ROAD TRIP! That will be so great to have one with your sister. Make sure to have good playlists with songs that you can sing along to because nothing gets rid of a long drive better than belting out the classics– like the Dirty Dancing soundtrack.
Aw, that sounds like a great adventure. I always wished I had a sister. My brother is great and all, but it’s just NOT THE SAME.
As my parents always say, “Drive Pretty!” (And I always respond that I’ll be sure to reapply my makeup every few miles, just to make sure I’m pretty.)
That is a precious picture of Mr. Hill. And of you two too! Can’t wait till you get here.
Gosh you have the most beautiful smile.
Have fun! Cute doggie too!
Necessary mom-function: “Mommy, I don’t feel so good….*puke*” Hey! you could do that after a night of carousing. It would be just like old times for her and make her feel so needed.
What a beautiful dog!! Hope he doesn’t get carsick or chew the seat cushions….
Safe travels!
you need to update your current homepage picture! you look so different in this entry’s pic.
Have fun on your road trip! I would have never survived my big 1000+ mile move without my brother along.
As for the butt wiping assistance…oh I remember the days. I also remember the day I accidently locked myself in the bathroom, and my mom pulled me out through a hole in the wall. Luckily we were doing construction in the house.
Bonne chance to your sister and your dad. How kind, exciting, wonderful that they are both taking the leap and trying to rebuild. I hope they are able to work it out, together, and I hope you don’t get stuck being the occasional emotional intermediary.
What a cute dog!
Oh man empty nest syndrome. My parents luckily don’t have it yet since my two siblings are still keeping the house noisy, but my whenever I used to go home with my ex, his parents would hug and cry over him (he’s the baby) like they hadn’t seen him in years!
What a great photo. And is that a dress or a shirt? Because that sucker is adorable.
Exactly one year ago, I drove across Canada by myself. I had the Chronicles of Narnia on audio CD. 8 days with Kenneth Branagh, Derek Jacobi, Patrick Stewart et al. gave me enough incentive to slow down, take my time and really savour the drive.
Heather! That is a gorgeous picture of you. You look beautiful. And very tan, so I am jealous.
1) That dog is SO adorable!
2) The main way I help my mom through Empty Nest Syndrome is by calling her constantly for cooking advice. (“Mom, what does it mean to ‘broil’ something?” “If I use cheddar cheese instead of Parmesan, will this taste weird?” “Mom, which one’s the saucepan and which one’s the frying pan?”)
3) Welcome to Utah, sister.
Love the post!
How to fall into the toilet in 3 easy steps (or so I’ve heard…):
1. Have man (husband/boyfriend/one-night stand) leave toilet seat up.
2. Wake up at 3 am needing to go to bathroom, completely unaware that toilet seat is up.
3. Voila – instant fall into toilet.
Enjoy!
Your sis sounds like a hoot… love that she suggested you should start acting more helpless to benefit your mother. Hilarious!
Very CUTE picture of you! Like your top too!
“As far back as I can remember, I’ve always wanted to be a gangster.”
Also, Fish, thanks for making me feel at ease with the fact that I’m in my 20′s and thoroughly enjoy The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants. [Though I still haven't mustered up the courage to bring the books on the train
]
I love that your sister has a Pit Bull named Henry Hill.
So, I didn’t click on the Henry Hill link and I was wondering why on earth people were telling you that you had a beautiful dog. Knowing this crowd, I thought it was some kind of wierd insult… =)
“As far back as I can remember, I’ve always wanted to be a gangster.”-Henry Hill; Brooklyn, NY; 1955
I think you two will have soo much fun! Yes, definitely bring music. My sis and I always sing along when we are driving together, and usually laugh til we cry at our efforts. Good times…
Hi Fish. I just started reading your blog recently. I found your earlier entries hauntingly similar to myself. I just ended a *J* situation, which I have been clinging onto for a while. I just wondered how things with him worked out in the long run? I’m trying to convince myself I did the right thing.
jANe,
yes please.
joyce