Because every single person that I know is doing/has done the Thirty Day Song Challenge, I'm bowing to peer pressure and doing it as well. Observe:
Day 01 - your favorite song
Day 02 - your least favorite song
Day 03 - a song that makes you happy
Day 04 - a song that makes you sad
Day 05 - a song that reminds you of someone
Day 06 - a song that reminds you of somewhere
Day 07 - a song that reminds you of a certain event
Day 08 - a song that you know all the words to
Day 09 - a song that you can dance to
Day 10 - a song that makes you fall asleep
Day 11 - a song from your favorite band
Day 12 - a song from a band you hate
Day 13 - a song that is a guilty pleasure
Day 14 - a song that no one would expect you to love
Day 15 - a song that describes you
Day 16 - a song that you used to love but now hate
Day 17 - a song that you hear often on the radio
Day 18 - a song that you wish you heard on the radio
Day 19 - a song from your favorite album
Day 20 - a song that you listen to when you’re angry
Day 21 - a song that you listen to when you’re happy
Day 22 - a song that you listen to when you’re sad
Day 23 - a song that you want to play at your wedding
Day 24 - a song that you want to play at your funeral
Day 25 - a song that makes you laugh
Day 26 - a song that you can play on an instrument
Day 27 - a song that you wish you could play
Day 28 - a song that makes you feel guilty
Day 29 - a song from your childhood
Day 30 - your favorite song at this time last year
So this is Day One: My Favorite Song. Now, if you asked different people who know me what my favorite song is, you'd get a whole slew of different answers. Dave would probably say "Bad Romance" by Lady Gaga; Michelle would probably say "I Would Walk 500 Miles" by the Proclaimers, but preformed by Velveeta, simply because it's OUR song; Erin would probably say "Hallelujah" by Rufus Wainwright or "You're Still You" by Josh Groban, and she'd be the closest to the truth (Erin and I go way back...). But they're all wrong. Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you my absolute favourite song of all time: "Walking In Memphis" by Marc Cohn.
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So my reasons for loving this song are many and varied: 1. I was born in Memphis, TN twenty-six looong years ago, and haven't been back since I was 14. I love Memphis - and this song reminds me of it. 2. When I was younger, my Mom always told me that whenever this song came on the radio (because it really doesn't happen all that often), it was my Dad's way of saying hello. 3. It reminds me of my Dad. 'Nuff said. 4. It was the first song that Mulder and Scully (of X Files fame) danced to; granted, it was being sung by a Cher impersonator at the conclusion of Post-Modern Prometheus which detailed the saga of a gentleman who looked like a "Monster" ... who would blanket women's homes in a fumigation tent, drug them with gas, then break in and impregnate them, all while playing Cher's music. (The most frightening thing about the prior statement is that I didn't have to look any of that information up on the 'net. I am that much of an X Files geek.)
So there you are. Song #1. Done.
So today is Saturday. I have a laundry list of things to do today: laundry, wash the girls and take them to the park, clean my car, clean the kitchen, run to the store and come up with dinner, run out to get rum, remind Dave to get fitted for his suit for Todd's wedding next month, mail thank you notes and birthday cards... thank god I don't have any work to do! ;)
Last night Dave and I had an argument about his inability to remember to CALL WHEN HE'S GOING TO BE LATE. I'd gotten a 'take and bake' pizza for dinner, which only takes about 20 minutes to cook. Since Dave's only about 5 minutes from home, I was going to throw the pizza in the oven at about 8:40pm so that it would be done when he got home. So I do just that: I preheat the oven, throw it in, and settle down to watch some episodes of Million Dollar Listing while I wait for Dave - - and then the phone rings. At 8:55pm. And he's going to be late because he upped someone and just got back from a test drive. The customer arrived at 7:15pm and this is the first I'm hearing of it. And then, AND THEN, he hung up on me.
Oh no he didn't! *snapsnapsaucyheadswivel* I immediately called him back and gave him whatfor - which included a few words of questionable origin. And he told me he'd call me back in a second, after he talked to the customer about whether or not he wanted to do the sale at that moment, or wait until today. So a minute went by. Five minutes. Ten. Fifteen minutes later he calls and says he's coming home. It's 9:10pm at this point and the pizza's done, so I pull it out and divvy it up since he's on his way home - - a half hour later, after I've given up waiting and eaten a slice, I'm running my bath water when he calls again and says that NOW he's coming home. Right. So I do what anyone would do: I lock all the doors and barracade the doors he has keys to. I pull down all the blinds and close them. I throw a dark blanket over the door windows. I turn off all the lights. Then I go back upstairs and take my bath.
I don't know how he got in, but when I went back downstairs an hour later, he apologized repeatedly. But I know it will happen again, and probably really soon. See, Dave has a tendency to become REALLY single-minded at work and completely forget that I'm at home, holding dinner back for him. Then, when he FINALLY remembers, it's too late. I hate, hate, HATE when people do that. I cannot stand it if someone says that they're going to call me and doesn't. I REALLY hate when I call and call and call and call and no one answers the phone. I compulsively call every single one of the numbers I have for them until they pick up. My Mom does the same thing. It's a remnant of the night my father offered to drive his drunk boss' Porsche home from a Pittsburgh Pirates game and crashed the car only a few miles away from his destination. He never came home and my Mom couldn't get ahold of anyone... until the police showed up at our door. So needless to say, if I can't find you, I get nutty.
Today's my aunt's 54th birthday. I'm trying to think of the best way to text her and say "ha! you're OLD!" which she'll hate. I don't really care, though, because we live to harass each other. My whole family is like that, expect for my youngest uncle who's kind of a douchebag.
My Family:
Grandma & Grandpa: Pretty self-explanatory. Grandma's hilarious and sarcastic - once, before they were dating, she threw my grandpa out of her sorority house. And when they started dating, she'd go out with him and when he dropped her off at home, she'd wait for ten minutes and go out with another guy (grandpa caught wind of it and spied on her). But he was no saint - he was dating another girl too, and while he was caught up in the war was writing to both her and my grandma... but sent the wrong letters to the wrong girls! The other woman ended it with him, but my inventive grandma went and had a picture of herself taken at the beach with another man's shoes on her beach towel. Then she sent THAT to grandpa. They still argue about it to this day, especially as grandpa is convinced she's having an affair with their mailman. The mailman is in his 30s. My grandma is 89.
Uncle #1: Uncle #1 used to be a big-wig, hugely wealthy, incredibly successful drug rep; in fact, he was the #1 selling drug rep in the tri-state area with a pretty (though bitchy) wife and two kids - my favourite two cousins who are about the same age as my brother and I. He would take the whole family skiing, rent beach houses for all of us, buy out entire aisles at Toys R Us at Christmas... you get the point. Then it came out that my two cousins might not... no, definitely weren't after a DNA test... his kids. Then his wife left him for their father and he moved out of the gorgeous house in the suburbs he'd purchased for his perfect family... and he lost his job (this, no one in my family is sure about. We never found out why, but there was speculation he was doing illegal deals with the doctors and embezzling money) but didn't tell anyone and blew through his entire life savings continuing his high rolling lifestyle. Then his ex-wife soaked him in the divorce and he went deeper and deeper into dept. It was terrible. A few years back he remarried, but it was a disaster from the start and eventually he and wife #2 divorced. He's in his 60s now and hangs out with his son's buddies and girlfriend, with whom he is UNUSUALLY close. He's usually wasted at family gatherings, and once told me (at my high school graduation party) that I should just skip school and find a rich man to marry, since girls don't belong in college. He once told my brother that his girlfriend had a nice ass, and asked her if she'd sit on his lap. Once he told Dave that I looked hot in my bathing suit because I had great boobs. You get the picture.
Uncle #2 and Wife: Quite possibly my favorite relative. My Uncle #2 is an ex-fratboy pothead who is so laid back it isn't funny. Seriously, we had just landed in Cancun and were outside the airport drinking while waiting for our transportation, and when we left he forgot his SUPER expensive laptop at the outdoor bar and didn't discover that he'd left it until we got to the hotel, 45 minutes away. He casually caught a ride back, asked a few questions, had to go back through security without his ids, and got his laptop. Then he came back and had lunch. His wife, my aunt, I hate. She's a complete know-it-all about every topic imaginable, a die-hard Republican, and makes comments like, "I don't WANT to go to Planet Hollywood - who goes to CHAIN restaurants on VACATION?! (The previous nights, we'd gone to Margaritaville AND Carlos and Charlies... at HER insistence) You are ALL so noncultured." She called ceviche 'SER-VER-CHEE" for the entire week, despite being corrected multiple times. She informed Dave and I that we should have no input on dinner choices, as the "people who have real jobs" should get to make that decision. I've got to say, that one confused all of us (especially since she doesn't work). And she's always been like this. The rest of the family can't stand her. Even their daughter, my absolute favourite cousin, thinks she's a moron. Dave and I are really looking forward to our wedding, since he has an Uncle/Aunt pairing exactly like this in his family. We're going to put the two of them together and see who kills who.
Uncle #3 and Wife: He used to be awesome, happy-go-lucky, and my Dad's best friend. Now he's a surly douchebag who only shows up to family gathering if he's getting something out of it. Christmas? Sure, he wants the Christmas checks my grandparents give out. Easter? Yep, for the kids' Easter baskets. But any birthdays, graduations, celebrations where he or his family doesn't profit? Nope. His wife we never see. Seriously. For three years straight she missed EVERY family gathering and we became worried she'd died and we didn't know about it. Dave and I have been together for six years, and he's only met her twice. And they only live 30 minutes away from our hometown. Their kids, my two cousins, are great. Both boys are well over six feet tall and totally sarcastic. One is Penn Stater right now, the other is starting in the fall. So we love them. Expect for when they were getting ready to start school and my uncle called my grandparents to ask for "donations" to their college fund.
Mom, Step-father, Me &Jason: 'Nuff said. We're awesome. I also have two older step-sisters, one of whom is married and the other is going through her second divorce (seriously, it's been a bad year for marriages and grandfathers.) after her husband decided to move out and get his own place a year ago. They have three kinds ranging from 12 to 7, and HE has a new girlfriend who's not much older. My other step-sister's married with two little boys. They're both hilarious. Then, my step-father has a brother and a sister, both of whom have kids, so I have plenty of cousins. My favourite at the moment is a thirty-something eternally single woman who just announced that she's a lesbian. And she has a girlfriend. And they're pregnant. With twins. She announced this to my SEVERELY Republican, very prominent, small-town family. I love it.
Aunt #1 and Husband: This is the aunt who's having her 54th birthday today. She's probably the one who's understood me best, being a former fat girl herself. She's always bringing up how my Mom (the head cheerleader when they were in school ... seriously, at 57 my Mom still looks like a Barbie doll) tortured her when they were younger. She's on marriage #2 after she cheated REPEATEDLY on her first husband with her second. She's living proof that karma comes back to bite you on your ass: after refusing to have children with her first husband (she didn't want any) she got pregnant by her current husband. Before they got married. My grandpa never has quite worked out how my cousin was a fullterm baby after only five months. My cousin is a smart kid, but she's weird. For the longest time we've been convinced that she has some kind of gender confusion thing - she plays football, wears only clothing from the boys section - including size 11 shoes, has tried to kiss girls and grab their chests, and requested that we call her Rob . . . and she's 16. My aunt claims not to see it, but I think she's in denial. Her husband, my uncle, has two kids from his first marriage. His kids are douchebags too.
Aunt #2: This aunt's birthday is tomorrow. She's not married and doesn't have kids, and until just a few years ago lived with my grandparents to look after them. She finally got her own place just outside of town, and has really come out of her shell. She's really pretty and used to be REALLY crazy religious, but since she started dating her boyfriend she's gone all 'new age-y' which I like. She works for my step-father (as does my Mom), so she's the family member I see most often when I'm home. Her boyfriend is persona non grata in our family, after treating her like crap and breaking it off with her a few years ago, after which she got really depressed and secluded herself and wouldn't talk to anyone. Apparently they're together again, so she's back to what I guess is normal. Her boyfriend used to work for my step-father as well, but got himself fired... basically for being a douchebag.
So that's my Mom's side of the family; they're the family we're closest with, since we grew up with them and they all pretty much live in the same town. My Dad's family all live out west in California, and we only see them for a week or so every few years. When we were younger my grandparents would travel to PA to see us or we'd go out to see them and my uncle and aunt every summer, but lately it's just been too hard to coordinate my schedule with Jason's to get us both out there for any length of time. The last time we saw them was last summer when my grandfather passed away after a lengthy illness. Mom, Jason, and I went out and basically kept the house and family running for a week while everything was arranged. Mom did all the cleaning and laundry for thirteen people (my uncle, his wife, and their two boys; my aunt, her husband, and her three daughters; my grandmother; and the three of us), I did all the shopping and cooking for thirteen people (and that means three meals a day, plus snacks for four teenagers and Jason), and Jason did all the leg work for the arrangements and helped with the meals if barbecuing was involved in any way.
It was a rough week. My Dad didn't get along with his brother and that resentment that festered between them (Dad was the golden boy, a college football star, and a doctor - his brother is a little pipsqueak of a computer nerd who lives in the mountains with his family and owns things like one of those water bottle bladder backpacks and a Prius) has been transferred to myself and Jason... likely because I look so much like my Dad and Jason took right after him with sports - - while his kids are an effeminate male thespian and a pyromaniac freak of a son (love my cousins!). My aunt isn't as bad, but she's totally clueless. My grandparents were rough on her when she was younger, being very very British and very very old school. She was absolutely in love with her boyfriend and they became engaged... for a day, until my grandfather told her absolutely not because he was Italian (I'm dead serious). She was devastated and alone for a long time, before finally finding a nice British pharmacist and settling down - unfortunately, the night after her wedding she was acting odd - - and in the car on the drive back to home (they were married in the mountains), when my mom asked if she loved him, all she would say was that he'd make a good father. And she so wanted kids and she was getting up there in age, so she went with it... So a few years and two miscarriages later, my aunt gave up on my uncle and adopted two little girls from Vietnam and one little girl from China. I don't really care for my uncle, but the kids are cute.
So anyway, there we three are out in CA trying to deal with the funeral arrangements: seriously, my Mom and I became convinced it was the twilight zone. My aunt and uncle are functional adults, but when we arrived NOTHING was done. The services were set, that much is true, but my uncle refused to have a viewing BEFORE the service and wanted it to be done the day after... which I have never seen before and didn't understand... and didn't want anyone there but family. And though when we'd arrived it was a day and a half after the death, there was no obituary written and no notice had been put in the paper. My Mom had to direct them in how to get flowers for the altar and casket, but my uncle refused to pay for two sets of flowers and insisted he'd just put the flowers in his car from the church and take them to the funeral home after. No memorial cards were ordered, no visitors book was put together, the will couldn't be found, the safety deposit boxes weren't opened... hell, a day before the memorial service I fielded a call from the funeral home asking, for the third time they said, what we'd decided to do with the body. IT STILL WASN'T DECIDED IF HE'D BE CREMATED FOUR DAYS AFTER HIS DEATH! It was, for lack of a better word, a complete clusterfuck. And the three of us had to sort it out. Which we did, but not without stress. The viewing was on Sunday, just a few hours before our flight was scheduled to leave, so we were all packed up and ready for the service at 12:30pm - it was scheduled to be from 1-3pm, but obviously we weren't going to be late.
But my aunt and grandmother were at the bank, sorting through the safety deposit box. And my uncle and his older son were out buying GUITAR STRINGS and checking out a 4-wheeler they'd found in the paper. My aunt's two elder daughters were watching television and eating lunch, and my uncle's younger son was in the swimming pool. My uncle's wife was MIA. When we asked the kids why they weren't getting ready, they told us their parents told them they didn't have to go.
And my Mom and I said WTF? Who in their right mind wouldn't expect their children to pay respects to their grandfather?! So we left - we went - we got there early, and the poor funeral director looked so embarrassed that we were the only representatives of my grandpa's entire existence. We went in. Empty room, grandpa at the top. No flowers from the church - guess THAT slipped my uncle's mind. Thank god for my Mom's family, every single person had sent flowers, so the place wasn't bare. We went up. We paid our respects. Jason slipped his Pitt student ID card into grandpa's jacket pocket (both were Pitt Panthers, albeit a few years apart). I slipped the remainder of the yarn I'd used to make him a blanket (it was intended to be given him the week following, when we were planning to go out to visit him in the hospital. I gave it to my grandma instead, and told her the colors I'd used reminded me of the lakes he'd used to take Jason and I fishing on. The only way she can sleep now is if she has that blanket) down to his feet... and then we sat down in the third row, anticipating the rest of the family's arrival.
And waited.
And waited.
And waited.
Finally, at 2pm, my grandma arrived with my aunt. And her three girls, all wearing jeans and tee-shirts. Nice, very classy. About 2:30pm my uncle's wife rolled in with her two boys, both also in jeans. Grandma came up to the front. My aunt came up to the front. Everyone else stayed in the back of the chapel.
At 3pm, the three of us got up to leave. We said goodbye one last time and headed out. No one followed us. Well, that's not technically true. When we got to our rental car, we noticed my uncle's wife had followed us out and was watching us leave from the corner of the building ... like she didn't want us to see her. She watched us leave. Then, as we were driving away, we watched my uncle finally arrive. Told you he hated us.
We got back to the house, assuming a key had been left for us since obviously they were intending to stay a while longer. No key. No way to get in. House is locked, but fortunately we have the key to the motorhome out front (our apartment for the week), so we're able to get our bags. This was too much for my Mom, and she wasn't going to hang out to wait for their return, so the three of us went out to eat. Then, an hour later, we went home.
They decided to bring my grandpa back to PA for burial in the family plot (he grew up on a farm in central PA), but they arranged the entire thing around their pastor's trip back to PA to visit family because they wanted him to officiate. And he's such a flake that a service which was supposed to take place on Saturday at 2pm was nearly pushed back to Sunday at 6pm, which would have meant Dave and I wouldn't be able to make it, because obviously we needed to be at work on Monday. But it went as planned.
They actually all came back early and stayed in my hometown at my house for a few days, which drove my Mom and Jason insane. Mom for obvious reasons, but Jason because he lives in Pittsburgh and works for Pitt, obviously, and every single one of them wanted a personal guided tour of the campus. By my brother. During the summer busy prep season. He managed a quick lunch with them before they headed off to stay with other family in the town where the burial was going to take place.
So Dave and I make the drive, leaving the dogs with friends for the weekend, and get to the location with a half hour to spare. It happens, we eat, and while we eat we come to a consensus to visit the old family farm where my grandpa grew up. We go, we pet the ponies, and we head to our hotel to get ready for dinner. We were going to a favourite family restaurant (food was horrible - I remember it being a LOT better) with everyone, which meant there would be something like 20+ people trying to sit down and eat a meal in peace. Now here's the thing: most of this extended family hasn't seen Jason, my Mom, or myself in over a decade. The rest of the family visits and keeps in touch, but after my Dad died we kinda lost touch with them all, despite the fact that they live about an hour from our hometown, and they've never met Dave - - so we arrive, and while my aunt and uncle and their spouses drag my grandma over to the long table set up for the group and sit with this extended family, all the kids (15 and under people) and the four of us are relegated to a little table near the table with all the adults we haven't seen in ages.
And they ignore us. Completely. After sitting at one end of the table and the kids choosing to sit together at the other end, we weren't acknowledged, spoken to, etc. for the next hour. We solved this by drinking. Mom got punchy -- she really REALLY can't stand my uncle, so this annoyed her... I mean, we're family too, no matter how much they hate us for no reason -- and insisted our drinks be served in a children's sippy cup, since we were obviously at the kids table... but after an hour and a half of being COMPLETELY forgotten about, we were done. Dave and I had traveled 10 hours, missed work, had to make plans for the dogs, spent insane amounts of money on gas, and Mom and Jason had done the same, minus the commute, and we were being ignored. So we got up. We paid for our uneaten dinners. And we left.
No one noticed until 45 minutes later.
If people have problems, I think most of them come from relationships with their family members. So after reading about my Mom, my brother, and my extended family, you'd think I'd be completely insane. I'm not. I'm hard-skinned, or I like to think I am. I get irritated by people's quirks, but for the most part can handle them. I like to think of myself as the blackest of the black sheep in my family, on all sides. And this is why I went 3+ hours away to Penn State's Main Campus and only came home twice a year. Or, after graduation, came home for two weeks before taking a job offer in North Carolina and moving a week later. Or, when Dave and I couldn't take N.C. any longer and wanted to move closer to our families (it was a 12+hr drive from Lumberton) we only ended up in Virginia Beach. I love my family, don't get me wrong. But my family's dynamic is completely f-ed up.
And Dave's family is the exact opposite, except for a few bad eggs. Don't tell my Mom, but sometimes I think I like them better... except for Dennis' "wife." Dave says she's a bitch. I keep my mouth shut, but I usually agree with Dave. ;)
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