I know, I know, certain death awaits me.

Check my friend Jim's blog. He's new at this, yet surprisingly bold.

So I called my Dad with good news. After making the shameful phone call to ask for money so I can pay my frickin' Brookline MA rent, and my mother agreeing to float me the cash 'til I get my Planes money, I called to let Dad know that the Financial Faeries had bestowed a gift on JoBiv. I FINALLY got reimbursed for my unused vacation time from my Parent Liaison job at the preschool! Whoopee! (Who, you wonder, doesn't take her paid vacation? Why, that's me! JoBiv! What would I do with it? Go home? You haven't been paying attention.)

I got the checks in the mail yesterday. CheckS. Plural. Nice, eh? I had spoken to MeeraLove earlier in the day, saying "Sure we can get together, but not at a cafe, because I can't afford the leftover coffee grounds," and then later I got to say, "Meera, DAHLING, let's saunter down Newbury in pointy bitch shoes (f'real, click on that -- I'm related to that person, somehow), and fear interaction with the peasants."

We didn't do that, though. We deposited my checks, bought dalmas and concord grapes from Trader Joe's, and spat grape seeds at squirrels whilst chatting about Life In General.

All this is to say, I called home. Nice of me. I said, "Dad, don't bother sending that check because I've got me some Moh-nay."

And he said, "It's already sent. Keep it."

And I said, "Umm... I donwanna."

And he said, "Well too bad, because I'm not takin' it back. Why aren't you coming October 2nd?"

Huh?

And I said, "Because then I'd be there too long." Whoops.

"What do you mean, too long?

"I mean, that would be a long time to be in Victor with all of you poor people chauffering me around. It's not fair to YOU." Good save.

"Oh. Well, Tom [recall former Marine brother, 32, lives in Cleveland, likes beer] and Sara [girlfriend whom I like because she is creepily similar to me] are coming that weekend. They got their weekends mixed up."

Right. So I have to change MY plans because the FRICKIN' MARINE can't plan a trip to the bathroom, much less to his hometown.

But I changed my plans because my Dad named a date for the Great Drive Back to Boston. Columbus Day. Everyone jot that down. Also, because my Uncle John from Hawaii will be in town that weekend of the 2nd, and I'd shore like to see'm. That was an awkward part of the phone conversation because my Dad was in the kitchen while my Aunt Mary (freak, remember?) was makin' cookies, and I would never, EVOR, change my plans around in an effort to run into her. No sir. It just may have been conspicuous that I've seen my Uncle John much more recently than I've seen her, but what can she do to me?

Hmm. I suddenly have this image of Aunt Mary as the witch in Snow White, dripping cyanide on a luscious, red apple...