Tuesday, October 11, 2005


I haven't had a chance to say much lately - not because I don't have much to say, but because there has been so much going on and I don't even know where to start. Also, I wasn't sure if I wanted this blog to occasionally turn into a full-on Angela disclosure type of thing.

I've finally decided that this is acting like writer's block, because it's really keeping me from writing at all. So, those of you who aren't interested in gory family details, please read one of the excellent webcomics I have linked to on the left.

For the rest of you - my Circus Family has EXPLODED over the past week!

Where to even begin!

During the latter half of our week in Seattle, I got a phone call from Eric that I handed off to Allen because a.) I didn't feel good and b.) I was trying to take a nap. I could hear Eric yelling on the other end of the phone...it didn't sound good. When Allen filled me in, I felt like calling my friends, telling them to sell my house, and then asking them to sell the proceeds so I could begin my new life in the Pacific Northwest.

Turns out Eric went to go visit Ivan (the other, younger brother) at work, where Ivan chose to tell Eric that he had slept with his (Eric's) ex-girlfriend, the one that Eric had been trying to get back together with for the past two months. Eric kicked Ivan's ass, then went straight to my house, where he proceeded to tell my Mom that he left Ivan on the ground, and that the cops had just showed up.

Mom took this about as well as could be expected, which means not very well. She was of course more worried about Ivan than Eric, because Eric was standing in front of her (probably foaming at the mouth) and Ivan, as far as she knew, was laying in a crummy alley on Thayer Street. Eric could not understand her point of view, and let her know that in no uncertain terms what he thought of Ivan and anyone who would even think of defending him, and threatened further violence upon his person should he run into him. Then he took off.

Mom was extremely worked up and called all of my friends (hey guys!) to rally round. She worked herself into such a tizzy that they had to take her to a clinic the next day, where a doctor told her that her heart rate was so high that she could have had a stroke. She gave Mom 3 different prescriptions, including one for an eye infection she had developed (apparently the minute we left), one for her blood pressure, and one for anxiety. She was afraid to take that one, so my friend Matt took one to show her that it was ok.


For the record, I do not approve of my mother ignoring the advice of a medical professional, and instead choosing to use my close friend as a guinea pig. Just so's you know.

Also, the day after we returned (Sunday) Mom took and extra couple of pills and slept so deeply that she didn't hear either myself or Allen come to the door for 24 hours. I thought she was pissed off and ignoring me - she was drugged out of her mind. I guess the pill anxiety wore off.

Meanwhile, Ivan claimed to be ok, but no one could see him because he had very long hours over the next few days (Read: My face doesn't look so hot and I want to heal up a bit before you see me). He did check in with me to let me know that he was able to finish his shift that night, though he kept getting dizzy and falling over, and was unable to use one arm. Of course, he didn't go to the hospital, because everyone in my family (including myself to some extent) has some "I'm fine, my eyeballs are only bleeding a little" gene. "Doctors, Schmoctors!" we always say. How any of us have reached breeding age is beyond me.

What made things even more excited is that Eric, who had been on the island of Nantucket all summer, now needed a place to stay for a couple of days (with his two kooky roommates, David and Brandon) while he sorted through all of his belongings (which were living in our basement) and chose which things to bring with him on his cross-country move to California. San Francisco specifically. To become Rock Stars.

The problem lay in the fact that the entire time Eric was in town, my Mom lived in mortal fear that he would go after Ivan. Of course, once Eric had cooled down, we all knew he would do nothing of the sort, and he even said as much, but Mom spent each day a miserable, twitchy mess anyway. And Eric kept dragging his stay out - first he was only staying Wednesday night, then Thursday, and then oh, I guess Friday too! They finally left Sunday morning, finally bringing to an end the tearful hand-wringing. And the "why don't you care about your brother?" comments. She was angry with me for being too nice to Eric, since she couldn't understand his actions and thought that I was condoning them.

For the record - I told Eric that I found his actions to be terrible, I could understand his anger, and Hell, I would have taken a swing at the kid, too, but he shouldn't have hurt him so badly, or told his mother such horrible things. Also, Ivan and the girl in question did the deed after she and Eric broke up, but before he tried to get back together with her.

When I see Ivan, I will first make sure he's ok, then I will tell him that he is a pecker-head.

And my dad was calling a million times a day, because if I don't answer the phone he keeps calling, and calling, and calling until I break down and answer the phone, resigning myself to an hour long phone conversation, during which time Mom will try to communicate with me no less than 5 times (Exaggerated whisper: "Is that Dad?") unless I hide in my room.

Allen is really pushing to begin the "Go Back To Maine" campaign on Mom - I'm not sure what to think right now. But I do know that I am jealous of Eric's cross-country move.


lizzy said...

Sweet Angela,

I hope writing this all down has helped to get it off the front of your brain a bit.

I've got nothing very helpful to say except that you know I am always willing to receive any number of ranty phone calls and emails that you feel the need to make/send.

Also, I comment your excellent mastery of commas:
"(the other, younger brother)".

One rarely sees such grammar on the internet.

Seventeen days until the Farm, where there will be much drinking, knitting, and meatballs...ing.

-bates said...

Ohhhhhhh noooo! I thought I had the really messed up luck. You take the cake Angela. If you need copius amounts of alcohol, or if you and Allen want to escape for a weekend, you are welcome to come up here and escape.


Anthea said...

*sends big hug southward*

Angela said...

Thanks, guys! I appreciate it, you made me feel a lot better!

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