They Call Me Junebug

Barely breathing...

I’m still alive. But just barely.

I started this blog with some many stories and jokes and down right important issues that needed, needed to be written about, by me. Then, my world fell apart, I came unglued and suddenly staring blankly at the computer screen through teary eyes became my favorite past time. This soon vied with listening to my mother cry on my shoulder, to see what could corner the bulk of my attention.

Not that I’m complaining, it’s important that I be here for my mother, but there is something so fundamentally wrong about having your mother come running to you with problems and tears and fears. It’s as if a pole has shifted, and all of the sudden I’m the adult with all the right answers who calms her down and tells her it will be alright. For nigh upon 25 years that role has been hers, and hers alone, and I’m not ready for it yet. I’ve never really been or acted like much of a “child”, but I’ve always been my mother’s daughter, and I’m not ready for that to change. At 24 years old, I was not prepared to have to begin facing my parent’s mortality. It’s not like they’re old, my dad is just 7 months shy of turning 50, and my mom a few months shy of 48. If they were older, like my husband’s parents, in their 60’s, I might be more prepared for it, I don’t know. I just don’t know if children ever become prepared to assume the roll of provider and caretaker for their parents, whether it’s emotionally or physically providing for them. I don’t know if it ever gets easier, but that’s what I keep telling myself, amidst the tears, that it has to get easier.

Our Vegas trip was wonderful, though Wayne Newton cancelled his Thanksgiving day show and we didn’t get to see him. We also did not get nearly as much sleep as I am accustomed to getting on vacation, but we had a really swell time. We won money at the blackjack tables, and lost minimal amounts to the slot machines. The video poker machines were my favorite, and it took very little to turn me into a zombie! The “Love” show was absolutely phenomenal, something that I would see over and over and over again, all in a row! Blue Man Group was also fantastic, it was the most interactive show I have ever seen, and it was spectacular. If I ever get back to Vegas, I would definitely see those two shows again. We enjoyed the Luxor, and made our way to the Tropicana, the Vinetian, the Bellagio, New York New York and the Stratosphere. We only gambled in the Tropicana, as that’s where the $5 blackjack tables were! No high rollers here!
The one major disappointment I would have to voice about Vegas was the food. Granted we didn’t eat at any 5 Star joints, but we ate at some pretty expensive places, in very nice hotels, and I thought it was just “ehh”. Coming from Dallas where there are more restaurants per capita than anywhere in North America, maybe I’m just a little spoiled. Thanks to my location, my family’s love for fine food, and my husband’s influence, I have eaten at some of the best restaurants all over the Southern United States, and Vegas just did not stack up like I thought it would. I guess next time we’ll have to spring for the $300+ meals, which is sad, since we could get much better here in Dallas for much cheaper.

The day before Thaksgiving, Mr. Junebug and I went to my parent’s house to take the 15ht Annual Family Christmas Picture, which normally turns out to be a pain in the butt, what with all the kids/teenagers whining and complaining. This year started out no differently than any of the last few, except that we were taking the pictures at the park at the end of my parent’s street. All of the whining was progressing as anticipated while we “kiddos” posed for pictures, until, out of the blue, came a “thud”. Looking around we spotted several misdirected (i.e. juvenile) youths who were availing themselves of the horse apples lying about. This persisted for a few minutes, without any getting close enough to our little photo shoot to elicit anything other than muttered threats from my siblings. Finally, one came “this” close to hitting us. It was on. My dad, the young, spry 49 year old who has spent his entire adult life running things like marathons, for fun no less, marched himself over to the crowd of kids, only it turned out to be just one teenager, as the rest turned tail and ran for dear life. My entire family was cheering him on, my siblings being so overjoyed to finally see someone else on the receiving side of his very unique and definitely scary brand of chastisement. My sister turned on the video feature on the camera, hoping to capture the ass whooping for posterity’s sake; though we warned her about the possible implications if the police were involved…We didn’t find out what dad had said to the punk until later when we were all seated around the dinner table. His exact words were “Don’t throw anything else. Or I will chase you down, and I will catch you and you won’t like it”. Sent all of us into hysterics at the thought of our spry old man chasing down a bunch of punks with their jeans around their thighs, because lord knows he could have done it. And if not him, my “little” brother, a runner for the NCAA Div 1-A track & field program with more wins than anyone else, ever, could have toyed with them for hours. An all out sprint for those boys would have been a nice leisurely distance run for my brother! It certainly made our day, and my sisters proclaimed it like, the best thing, like ever. And coming from teenage girls, you know that carries like, a lot of weight.

It’s Christmas time at the Junebug household, which means the Neurotic Christmas Elf has shown her face and shows no signs of slowing down till sometime after new years. We’re getting the Christmas tree tonight, and putting it up tomorrow night after the painters come paint our nasty PEACH living room a more respectable color, like Mocha and Real Beige. Once the tree goes up, I won’t sit still until every stationary surface, and some not so stationary (I’m looking at the dog) are covered head to toe in garland, lights, ribbon, jingle bells and or mistletoe. I’m done Christmas shopping, other than getting a few snacks to include in the gift baskets, so I really have nothing left, save for the family dinner for 36 people. If I don’t lose a marble or five over that ordeal, I’ll be greatly surprised.

I’m going to try and keep up more with writing, it really does make me feel better and happier and manages to elicit a few smiles in the process, but there are some days where it’s all I can do to keep it all together until I get home. The thought of having to open my mind, string together mostly coherent thoughts, and hope someone else understands my addled statements is just overwhelming at this point. We’re still waiting on numerous test results to determine the full on horror that is Brain Tumor 2006, and until we know more, everyone is on edge, and as I operate in “worse case scenario mode” ALL the time, it’s been feeling pretty bleak.

I hope everyone had a fantastic Turkey day, full of love, joy, family & memories. Mine was full of booze, gambling, sequins, nakedness and airports, which left something to be desired in the way of holiday spirit.

posted by The Call Me Junebug @ 2:47 PM