Welcome to the Clown Farm

Where every day is a circus just waiting to happen.

I’ve been away. Not altogether, but partially, though I’ve been back long enough to grace you with a post about suicide, which is my way of saying to myself, “Welcome Home!”

I’m not really morbid. I just veer off in that direction now and then. I’m also not horribly mentally ill, I just like to write about it because someone has to.

I’ve learned a few things in the past couple of weeks that I’d like to share with you, whether you care to hear it or not.

**When going on a family road trip, stock up on plenty of snacks and drinks.

**Wear comfortable shoes. This goes for days spent at Disneyland as well as days spent on the couch unless you’re like me, and abhor shoes.

**Communication skills are only helpful if the person you’re communicating with has them also.

**Holy Cross Cemetery closes at 6 pm sharp, and after that time they won’t let you in because the alarm system is being armed. Are they afraid someone’s going to try to get out?

**When going to Disneyland, do not miss a visit to the spa at the Grand Californian. DO NOT. It will save you when your last shred of sanity is hanging out, ready to be blown away by the first breeze.

**When you go to San Francisco, do not miss Brandy Ho’s. That is, if you like Hunan. And if you have to walk several blocks on legs that are barely reminiscent of the legs you started out with, ankles sprained, toes aching, pedicure blotched, it’s worth it.

**Museums are fun, but they don’t like it when you try to rearrange the pictures. You’ve been warned.

**Layers.

**If you’re planning on getting some work done while you’re on that family road trip, forget about it because it isn’t going to happen. You can take your laptop along if that makes you feel better, but you won’t be getting anything done, I don’t care how long you’re in the vehicle.

**Horrible things happen to people when they shouldn’t, and there’s no reason for it. It just is.

I’m sure there’s more, but at the moment I’m unsure what they are. See follow up post.

Earlier I came downstairs to work because it was hot in my office. (By coming downstairs to work, I mean “lay on the couch with the good laptop and pretend to do something useful.”) When I came down, I noticed that the fan was indeed on. Charming husband came down with me too, though he had to go back upstairs. I said, “Hey, why’s the fan turned away from me?”

“It’s cooling the xbox,” he said.

“It’s what? It’s hot, and the fan’s working on the xbox? What about me?”

“What about you?” he said.

No, he didn’t say that. Well, he sort of did. But he also said, “Turn it around then. But you’re not the one who’s going to have red lights flashing when you’re overheated.”

“Just watch me,” I said to him, then turned the fan so it was at least blowing in my general direction. I’m sorry, but the xbox can fend for itself.

When this xbox is laid to rest we’re going to keep it as a shrine. It’s Stew’s xbox, and he left it to Andrew when he died. Please note: he left it to my HUSBAND, not to me.

I got the TV.

Saw part of my wonderful charming family when I was at Disneyland. Those that could came and had dinner with us at Downtown Disney. Fabulous Italian restaurant there, or ristorante if we’re being technical. I’m the black sheep of the family, or at least lime green. They are all beautiful and smart and charming. I, on the other hand, am chunky and fat-faced, with a bad complexion and irritating hair, and I have no social graces nor wit to commend me. I envy them their closeness – I’ve been gone from there since I was 18, and my efforts to keep in contact are mostly irritants to them. (Don’t worry, I don’t think they read my blog, unless I say, “Look! You must read this!” And even then it’s doubtful.) I used to wish I had family close by, but I’ve learned to comfort myself during major holidays. And I have charming husband to keep me amused. He is quite amusing.

I used to want them to like me enough to send me the occasional email, and since that may be an unfair expectation, I can live with the reality. At dinner last week I was happy to just sit there and listen to everyone talk. We sat outside, and there was just a slight breeze, and there were two babies in attendance, my nephew, Aidan, who’s now wanting to start toddling off everywhere, and my niece’s 6 month old, Makena. (Aidan’s father is one brother, and Makena’s grandfather is another brother.) They show every sign of continuing their parents’ tradition of happy beautiful lives, and that makes me happy, even if they never really know who Aunt Monique is.

It’s all good. I’m all good.

As long as the red lights don’t start flashing.