Cat Sitting

I find myself in Jersey cat-sitting my friend's beloved "kiddies". I have some sweet potato gnocci that I made from scratch soaking up a nice sauce of sage and olive oil and garlic, with just a touch of butter. Seems peaceful enough. A beautiful, large apartment all to myself with two of the world's most affectionate cats. Lucien and Lola have done nothing but follow me around and fight for a spot on my lap since I got here last night. It's a nice change from the week I've had.

My friend left his kitchen fully stocked. Wine. Beer. Fresh veggies. Fresh meat. Fruit. And more fruit. (He knows I'm on a Godforsaken diet.) Cable. WiFi. Elliptical. And most of all...peace and quiet. All this, and all I have to do is play fetch with his kiddies, scoop out their litter, and cut up fresh chicken for them twice a day all weekend long. Oh, and feed his fish. (I don't know their names.) I don't know if he even named them. Still, a very fair trade, if you ask me. I feel like I'm coming out on top, though.

I had a plan this weekend. Try out a couple new recipes. Practice some new fondant techniques that I've been reading about. Catch up on some decorating videos that I've gotten a hold of. It's easier being away from the Dungeon because of where my poor dungeon is located. Imagine trying to get paperwork done in a cubicle sitting in the middle of a war zone.

Well, I couldn't even finish my Saturday in peace. I got a phone call from someone who I won't even give the credit of naming. Some people should just exist known only by their actions and not by name. Some people don't deserve to have their name remembered in history.

It seems my father has left my mother. Moved out and everything. There's a little more meat to the action, but it's been a long horrible week and I would rather not relive any of it. Although the details of today's drama are still vague, I got into a discussion about my own life-choices with this person.

"You know, if you just stayed settled down and gave your daddy some grandbabies, then he would have a quiet mind and be content. You know he's always wanted more for you. If only you were...."

Better? Prettier? Smarter? Richer? More ambitious? What? More what?!


I know he was excited when I was pregnant with Joey's baby, and although the circumstances were not ideal, he was going around boasting that he was going to be a grandfather. I couldn't have been more devastated by the situation. Barefoot and pregnant with a baby I wasn't gunning for wasn't my idea of living the dream. I think he was the only one as upset as Joey was when things did not come to fruition. Maybe my reproductive skills are cursed. What can I say? I've amassed an immeasurable sum of bad karma in that department.

They can't fault me for lacking an education that they didn't have to means to pay for or to help me get. I didn't have the comfort of parents with deep pockets or elderly relatives with a bounty to leave behind after their deaths. I'm one of 30-something grandkids. My grandparents are long gone and any idea of inheritance was laughable. I actually had a friend ask me the other day why my siblings and I don't have a nest egg left behind by our grandparents. Not in my family. Everyone earns what they have. No one is given anything for free. Well, that's not true. My younger cousins seems to be having an easier ride, but that goes without saying for this new generation of entitled brats. It is what it is.

This call was one sided. I wish I could put into words all the thoughts running through my mind, but I find my skills lacking right now. I don't know what I'm walking back into. I don't know what's there or what isn't. I don't know what state of mind my mom is in or what circumstances she was left in. I just don't know anything for sure anymore.

What can be said about a father whose love is more damaging than comforting? What justification can you give to someone who does not know how to be part of a family? Can I blame my litany of failed relationships on the strained ridiculousness that defines our interaction the 33 years I've been around? Sure I can, but knowing better only means I should have done better. Being aware of a huge hole in the ground should only make you more cautious of where you walk; not justify why you would fall into it.

Would my parents have a better relationship if I was making the kind of money they expected of me; therefore taking the burden of a million things off them? Maybe. I don't know. Would being in a stable, loving relationship with a good man and breeding smart, respectful children ensure that they would never have to worry about me again?

I doubt it.

All I'm left with after that fucking conversation is that me trying to enjoy the life I live is probably why my parents are failures.

Fan-fucking-tastic.