Tuesday, August 09, 2005

Another visit survived...barely

I'm back. In a few slightly chewed pieces, but I'm back. I swear, I will take a real vacation one day. One that involves room service, sitting on a beach being served girlie drinks by a nubile young imp named Juan, and no famdamily. Don't get me wrong, I love them, but they're fistfuck crazy and this trip was about 50/50 fun and holy christ I can't take one more fucking minute bad. Or 40/60. And sometimes 20/80. On that day there was booze. Lots of booze.

There are way too many details to write about, and frankly, I'm still recovering from everything that happened. I don't feel like spilling it all over the pages just yet. Too fresh, too raw. And things are scrambling around in my brain at mach 5. They need to reorganize. In the meantime, here's a taste.

My brother is still an asshole and I will commend my impressive shut-mouth skills with a shopping trip this weekend where I buy myself something frivolous and pretty. And maybe even sparkly. He deserved a 2 x 4 across the forehead more than once, but I was a perfectly poised princess and chose to call him a fucker under my breath and not let anything get out of hand. Fucker.

I'm insanely worried about my father who was super depressed most of the time and my mother decided to lose her shit on his birthday calling him an asshole and threatening to leave him. But since he's 80 and can't hear worth a shit, thankfully he didn't catch that lovely tirade. I think. But I sure did! She always does this when her stress meter finally maxes out and she needs to blow. Too bad she can't furiously knit a king-size afghan or go eat a gallon of ice cream like normal fucking people.

My niece was really fun for the first few days. Then her newly adopted college-girl schedule of staying up until 1:30 in the morning, sleeping until 11:00 the next day and consuming not much more than pringles and candy caught up with her and she became all annoying all the time. She's 8, by the way, not 19. But that's a story I probably won't tell for fear that someone may catch me and I'll get grounded until I'm 40 for talking shit. (But my brother has no parenting skills and omg, you all would have croaked if you saw what I saw, hello, 1 shower in 7 days? Gross). And that's all I'm saying.

There were some moments of relaxation, fun and laughter peppered throughout the week. And of course, the landscape was breathtaking as usual and I will never tire of driving around the countryside, past the lake and through Yellowstone. Watching the lazy rivers flow past and squealing with delight every time I spot an animal. I really am lucky. God dammit.

I took 7 rolls of 35mm film that I'll get developed this weekend but I managed to snap some nice pic's with my new digital camera, before the battery crapped out on Friday afternoon while I was sucking down bloody mary's like the 40 million mosquito's who drained my left leg of its entire supply of plasma.

Clicky clicky to make biggy.

First day at the lake. I was carried off by a horsefly but returned relatively unharmed.


Lady McSpaz of Sugartowne.


Damn rowboater. F'd up my shot. So I killed 'im.


Not my dog. Cry.


Pretty falls.


Elk a-nappin'.


Hold still dragonfly!


No swimming! Unless you don't like your skin attached.


Unfortunately this didn't fit in the car. I wanted it.


Killer algae. Do not touch dumb man from Germany! Nine!


Thar she blows! Sigh. Again.


Taken from the car as my dad breaks the sound-barrier in a Yukon.




Wolves howl at the moon and trash trucks. Who knew?


I couldn't get enough of these guys.


Biiiiiiig boy.


I would have traded a pot of gold for just some pot.


From the boat. Now this was a nice moment.


It's good to be home.

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