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Note to self: Do not turn the hose in the pool because the water is low, at 6pm, then forget about it until 10pm when the husband says 'Where's that running water sound coming from?'

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The visit to Mexico was nice, but a little rushed. I think I would have enjoyed spending more than 2 hours there, a lot of which was trying to stick with the moving guys Dad sent me over with, since he had to mess with getting phones and Internet service and so forth set up. Not that I'm complaining, I was ostensibly over there to help him move and I didn't end up actually lugging boxes, just helping with peripheral things like fetching lunch, getting the hotel room cleared out, and stuff like that. It was fun. I bought some cheesy trinkets and booze. What an American.

I finished 'Narcissus in Chains' by Laurell Hamilton. Yeah, it's a vampire book, so sue me. As much as my more literate friends will sneer, it was a damn good book. I wish she wrote faster.

The end of the trip got all weird. Dad dropped me off at the bus station with about 20 minutes to spare, and for some reason took that time to try and convince me to be on 'his side' re. the Bro Thing. The Bro Thing is that Bro is gay, which pisses Dad off. He won't admit it does, though. Bro asked if he could come up to visit about a year ago and bring his boyfriend and Dad said no. Bro has said that constantly being rejected by Dad is too painful (Bro is a Sensitive Ponytail Guy, and Dad is a macho athletic coach/history teacher who thinks GWB is a really swell guy) and so he is not talking to Dad until Dad lets him bring Tom (the boyfriend) over for a visit. Dad has tried everything to make it not his fault; first it was that they lived in a conservative town and he didn't want his friends to see; then it was his wife who (since her brother died of AIDS) doesn't allow it (like he's ever allowed any of his wives tell him what fer, the chauvinist swine); now he's acting pissed and like he's the victim- "I'm bending over backwards- I'll pay for them to stay at a hotel; meet them anywhere they want," etc. And it turns out while he was trying this with me, he was talking to Mom (divorced here these 15 or so years- but he'd rather talk to her than confront his son) about how he might be dead soon, and he didn't want Bro to have any regrets if he died before they made up.

Bro and Mom and I talked about this and decided Bro should explain to Dad one more time why he feels the way he does. Dad seems to be going out of his way to Not Get It. But neither Mom nor I were gonna pressure him in any way. He is hurt with every contact he has with Dad, and I can't say that I blame him for being extremely gun-shy. Dad was hard on all of us, but his son the most. :(

Anyway, the bus ride was fine. On the leg from Eagle Pass to San Antonio we were stopped twice by INS and checked for our citizenship. For me this involved looking at me and asking 'are you a US citizen?' but it involved checking cards and papers for pretty much everyone else. They even had a dog sniff the luggage compartment on the second stop (at least that's what I assumed was going on). Then on the second leg from San Antonio to Austin, I almost gave myself a freaking heart attack when the driver announced (after we'd started driving) that this was the bus to Dallas. I think I actually stood up and yelled 'Shit!' until a nice co-passenger explained to me that the bus stopped in Austin on the way to Dallas. Oooh! OK. The driver was about to say that but my interjection covered it up. Boy did I feel like an idiot. It amused the surrounding passengers, though. The buses (and bus stations) were a lot nicer than I had been led to believe. Go Greyhound!

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Picture, if you will:

We're having Thanksgiving here. This in an effort to make the holidays less of a grinding, soul-sucking hell for my husband who gets to show off his cooking skills. So I'm inviting people left and right, people who might be at loose ends, my family, blah blah. Tonight I ask him if he's invited any of his family. He says 'yeah, my sister.' OK, his sister has a husband who has recently gained cutody of an 8 year old boy, and I know Eric loathes children.

'Ah, so what about Caleb?' (the boy), I inquire.

'We'll hook up his Playstation to the other TV.'

'The other TV?'

'The one in our bedroom' (said in the 'well, duh' voice)

'Umm... the one with the coat rack full of S&M equipment, the copious hentai collection next to the VCR, the dildoes in the closet, and the bookshelves overflowing with books about S&M, the occult, and aquarium maintenance?'

'You forgot the one on anal sex,' he reminded.

We then spent the next several minutes trying to come up with the most horrifying scenario involving Caleb running downstairs and... something. Wearing the strap-on on his head, wondering why there are no tentacle sex monsters in 'Dragonball Z', et cetera.

We have decided to have the Playstation on the downstairs TV, which will keep people from watching football anyway.

I'm glad I'm fixed; have I mentioned that lately?