Because it is one thing to be a contender for the Darwin Award. It is something else entirely to take your children down with you.

Ya'll.  I am so angry.

I had to go over to my sister's early this morning.  Her alarm has been malfunctioning and went off several times in the middle of the night.  She's out of town, and I'm number two on the security company's call list.  I asked the alarm company to put her system on "test" until 10 AM, so I could get some sleep and head over there after Banner was awake and fed.

So, around 9 AM, I got into the car while Banner and Trevor were busy watching The Animal Sounds Song on You Tube.  Amy lives only about a mile away, so nothing about my journey took very long.

I exited off the main road onto her street, and slowed down for the narrow, 90 degree turn that her street makes about a tenth of a mile into her residential neighborhood.  There are always cars parked along this curve, and I drive a SUV.  It is impossible to take this turn going faster than 15 miles per hour (at least in my car), and I'm not just saying that because of the following story.  It is just one of those sharp turns.  I know it is there and it is difficult to see any other cars coming in the other direction.  It is simply necessary to slow down when approaching it.

And it is a good thing I did, because walking down the middle of the street on the far side of the curve was a gaggle of mothers and their children.

Again.  They were WALKING.  Down the MIDDLE of the EFFING street.  With their children.

I counted seven mothers.  Each pushing a stroller with at least one kid in it.  Several even had an infants in Bjorns strapped to their chests.

At first I didn't think very much of it.  I pulled up behind one of the parked cars along the wide end of the curve and slowed to a stop to let them all pass.  And that is when one of the mothers, wearing a long, black, strapless maxi dress, walked over to my car, banged on my driver's side window and shouted, "You need to slow down when driving through OUR neighborhood.  There are children here!"

Like I couldn't see them all standing there in the middle of the road.

But I said nothing.  Just stared back at her and blinked.

Never in my life have I wanted to yell at someone so much.  And I probably would have if there hadn't been at least ten children under the age of three with her and her other mom friends.  Because regardless of the fact that I was driving about 5 miles per hour under the max speed of most school zones in the City of Dallas, these moms were intentionally walking their children down the middle of the street right before what is essentially a blind curve.  What if I hadn't been familiar with the turn?  What if I was driving a sportier, turn-loving car?  What if Amy didn't live only a few houses down from this particular bend in the road?  What if I had been speeding?  Or not paying attention?  They all could have been plowed over like bowling pins!

Not to mention the fact that these moms were teaching their kids that it is acceptable to walk down the middle of the street in an area with perfectly good sidewalks on both sides of the block.  And I'm typing this knowing full well that there are parts of my neighborhood where I have no choice but to push the stroller in the street.  But it is always by necessity, not choice.  And owing to the fact that I don't want to get hit by a car, I always hug the curb.  It would never occur to me to march my baby down the middle of the road meant for vehicular traffic like that, nor would I ever feel comfortable doing so in the first place - especially so close to a curve where I can't see oncoming traffic or they me.

Instead of saying any of this to the b*tch in the black maxi dress, though, I just stared at her and waited for them to pass before coasting to Amy's house to deal with the alarm situation.  I'm pretty sure I had visible steam coming out of my ears.

This is one situation where I wish I was better with confrontation, because - the more I think about it - those mothers needed to hear that what they are doing is needlessly reckless and stupid.  They are taking unnecessary risks with their children just so they can walk in a horizontal line down the middle of a road.  I'm sure it is easier to talk and socialize that way, but is it really worth it?

And then for her to have the gall to bang on my car window and call me out?  For what?  Driving?  In the road meant for cars, not playgroups?

Maybe it is just me, but this is one of those situations where I wish I could go back in time and give her a piece of my mind.  If for no other reason than it might resonate with one of the other mothers and convince her to use the bleeping sidewalk.  Because, really?  That is what they are there for.

A post where the admittedly clueless, pregnant lady gives advice...

If I only knew then what I know now.

I mentioned this before, but finding a reputable day care in Dallas is a nightmare. Correction: finding a reputable day care in Dallas that doesn't have a ridiculous waiting list is a nightmare.

What they don't tell you when you go in for your first prenatal visit is that you really need to start getting on the day care thing STAT. Like, you probably should have already called a few centers around town the second you got that positive on your first at home pregnancy test.

I was a blissfully ignorant first time mom-to-be whose biggest concern last spring had nothing to do with day care. I was more concerned with getting through the first trimester, and was terrified that I would miscarry. As a result, the subject of day care didn't even cross my mind until I started the second trimester and the blood test results came back with the news that The Fetus was healthy and developing normally. And even then I was of the let's-research-everything-and-weigh-my-options mentality. By the time I actually started calling and emailing various centers, it was mid to late July and (no joke) PEOPLE LAUGHED AT ME.

By August, I was concerned and - now that we've hit September - I am pretty much a walking basket case. I am on five or six waiting lists, and the earliest any of them can take THOR is sometime next summer. Well, except for this new day care that just opened. They have room in March and April, but when I called them I was discouraged when the man answering the phone slipped up and said something about how short staffed they were. This immediately conjured up the mental image of my son crying unnoticed for hours on end all hungry, cold and suffering in a dirty diaper. But since I don't feel like I can afford to rule the short staffed day care out completely, I still have them on my radar.

All this distress in regards to day care also has me looking into options for Thor when he is a toddler and of pre school age. I might have already applied if the applications for the Episcopalian schools in the area hadn't asked me questions regarding my son's personality. Because all I really know at this point is that my child is active and dislikes flashlights. Additionally, they all want the kid's name and, well, we haven't decided on one of those yet. If you know Trevor's last name than you are aware of the problem. It is like Monica on Friends. Nothing goes well with "Bing".

But I digress. The real issue here is day care. So, if you just discovered you are pregnant, do yourself a favor and start calling around town tomorrow. You will save yourself a lot of time, stress and panic in your late second trimester. Which will leave you plenty of time to focus on the other important things, like, I dunno, baby socks and lamaze.

Back on my soapbox...

"To a man whose mind is free there is something even more intolerable in the sufferings of animals than in the sufferings of man. For with the latter it is at least admitted that suffering is evil and that the man who causes it is a criminal. But thousands of animals are uselessly butchered every day without a shadow of remorse. If any man were to refer to it, he would be thought ridiculous. And that is the unpardonable crime."

- Romain Rolland, Nobel Prize 1915

Everyday on my way to work, I pass at least two stray animals. Some – like Haskell was – are hurt, others malnourished or starving.

Additionally, I see many more animals – especially dogs – with collars on that are allowed to roam the streets in their neighborhood freely. The males are clearly not neutered, and the females give birth regularly to a new litter of puppies.

In an effort to help, I’ve done all I can think of to do:

• Called the SPCA – they do not have the resources to pick up stray animals and only have limited space (available by appointment only) to take in new dogs and cats every day/week.



• Notified Dallas Animal Services - who promises to send an Animal Control Officer to the area in question sometime in a 28 day (four week) period. By then, many of the animals have moved on, died, been hit by cars, or have simply disappeared.
  
  
• Picked up stray or abandoned animals and tried to foster and/or find permanent homes for them (i.e. Haskell, Carla, etc.). Or finding someone else who could (i.e. Toby, Bob, etc.).
  
  
• Left food out for hungry or starving animals to ease their suffering.



• Reported dead or dying animals to 311.



• Donated money and resources (food, old towels/blankets, etc.) to the SPCA and other local animal groups and shelters.



• Participated in walks to raise awareness about pet overpopulation, the benefits of spay/neuter, and to encourage the adoption of shelter and/or rescue animals.
  

While I feel as though I am making a difference in my own small way, I am more than aware that the problem is still spiraling out of control in many parts of Dallas. Pet overpopulation is on the rise, and thousands of dogs and cats are euthanized in shelters around the city every year. I believe that something needs to be done, or the issue will only continue to get worse.

Below is a letter that ran in the most recent issue of PAW PRESS (put out by the nonprofit organization PAWS IN THE CITY). Included is a link to an online petition in support of the recently proposed changes to the City of Dallas’ animal ordinances, which involves mandatory spaying/neutering of household pets and a formalized breeder registration. I believe it is a step in the right direction to help curb the high number of unwanted dogs and cats in the City.

Please take a second to read the letter below. I hope you will consider adding your name to the petition and/or passing this information along to others who may be interested in the subject.

HELP US PUT AN END TO COMPANION ANIMAL OVERPOPULATION

According to the book "One at a Time: A Week in an American Animal Shelter", an animal is put down every 9 seconds in a US shelter. If the City of Dallas made changes to its animal ordinances that reduced the number of animals being killed at taxpayer expense in our shelters, and improved public health and safety on our streets, would you support those changes?

We need your help. If you do nothing else, take a minute to sign our petition now at http://dallasanimaladvocates.wordpress.com/. ALL THE INFORMATION YOU NEED IS ON THIS SITE! To find out more before you sign, please read on.

The City of Dallas Animal Shelter Commission has recently proposed several changes to the City's animal ordinances, the most significant of which is Mandatory Spay/Neuter with Breeder Registration. Many people maintain that the decision to sterilize a pet should be left to the owner. Well, that approach has left Dallas facing a pet overpopulation crisis. Last year, 26,979 dogs, cats, puppies, and kittens were put down in City of Dallas shelters, while another 13,000+ strays or abandoned animals were found dead in the streets. Our city shelters are overcrowded and unable to keep up with the flow of animals abandoned or surrendered to Dallas Animal Services every day.

We have tried to address this issue with voluntary programs. We've educated people about the benefits of spay/neuter; we've offered free spay/neuter services; we've even tried to pay people to spay or neuter their pets.

Clearly these measures have not been enough. The rampant breeding cycle continues and the City of Dallas is forced to use its limited resources dealing with growing numbers of excess pets every year.

The issue is bigger than the huge number of animals dying, though that is unacceptable. Sanitation, public health and even the environment are impacted. Large numbers of stray animals defecate freely in the streets and raid garbage dumpsters for food. They can spread diseases and - as a result of abuse or because they're simply starving - may be aggressive, increasing the risk of injury to the public. Animals that die in the street or are put down in the shelters require transportation by the City's sanitation department - to the local landfill, where they become food for scavengers. Animals that have been put down retain enough sodium pentobarbital in their bodies to kill the wildlife that feed on them.

This is a problem that needs to be fixed, however we need your help urgently. Please let the City Council know that you support these proposed changes - fewer unwanted animals on our street and in our shelters will reduce risk to the public and save lives.

Here are some ways you can have an impact on this important issue:

(1) Get educated about the proposed changes and why they should be passed. Metroplex Animal Coalition and Companions For Life have joined together to create Dallas Animal Advocates, an online resource for information, statistics, talking points, links, updates, and more.

(2) Sign the petition we will be sending to the Mayor and the City Council - our goal is 10,000 signatures by mid-June, so please ask your friends and family to sign the petition as well.

(3) Write a letter to the Editor of the Dallas Morning News expressing your outrage at the existing situation and calling for change.

(4) Call, email or write to the Mayor and other Council Members, supporting the new ordinances. Complete contact information is available at Dallas Animal Advocates.

(5) Speak at City Council meetings to really get your point across.

(6) Visit our Dallas Animal Advocates blog - leave comments or forward on to a friend; link to it from your blog or website.

This is not the time to stand by and watch as our City continues to be overwhelmed by a growing deluge of unwanted pets - anyone who lives or works in Dallas can be part of the solution. Think you don't have time to take action? We challenge you to take less than one minute to sign the petition - every signature counts!

Thank you for your efforts on behalf of Dallas' animals!

Elaine Munch, President
Metroplex Animal Coalition

Lorrin Maughan
Companions for Life

At which time I almost lost my faith in the public school system...

Yesterday, a group of 374 DISD middle school students came for a field trip. Within moments of exiting the bus, a 14 year old 6th grader did something so bad that a police officer had to come and escort the student off the park premises until his parents could be located and come to pick him up. He wasn’t allowed to enter any of the institutions on campus or have any contact with his classmates or teachers.

The incident occurred in the two minutes it took the students to get off the bus and walk to the museum’s front door. I’ve never seen anything quite like it. Of course, since the student never actually made it into the museum, my involvement in the situation was extremely limited. I’m not even 100% sure I know what actually did (or did not) happen. Although, I heard several accounts from teachers about the event in question, so I have a pretty good idea of what transpired (think: weapons and/or drugs).

To make matters worse, the coordinating teacher had a near nervous breakdown immediately following the incident. Luckily, the other kids were in a performance by this point, and weren’t exposed to the hysterics taking place just outside the auditorium. On the verge of tears, the teacher told me that she, “Just can’t do this anymore.” Apparently, she’s been teaching for the district for years now, but no longer thinks she is making a difference in the lives of the students. According to her, a lot of the kids at her school already have substantial juvenile records. Some of the girls have had reputations since elementary school. Drugs, alcohol and gang violence are everywhere. She’s tried and tried again and again to get through to some of her most at-risk students (including the one who was being escorted around by a cop just outside the building), only to watch them arrested and convicted of a major crime before their 18th birthday and enter the Texas Penitentiary System.

Talk about depressing.

Of course, not all the students at her school are considered to be at-risk. In fact, some of the best elementary schools in DISD feed into this particular middle school, along with some of the most troubled. So the students are – literately – all over the place. Some function way above grade level while others are barely literate. It is an interesting mix. And I cannot imagine being responsible for teaching a group of students that represent both ends of the educational spectrum like that. What a daunting (not to mention near-impossible) task!

According to the teacher, she had excluded around seventy students from the field trip for failing grades, disciplinary issues or overall behavioral problems. However, 24 hours before the field trip was scheduled to take place, the principle announced that the teacher could not exclude students based on things like failing grades or behavioral misconduct. As a result, students (like the one who was being escorted around by the cop outside) were allowed to come along at the last minute. And what happened?...A major incident took place just outside the museum within moments of the bus arriving that morning.

It just isn’t fair to anyone involved. Not the teachers who have to deal with situations like these. Not the kids who have to witness their classmate being forcibly removed from the group by a police officer. Not even to the student who got in trouble and had to be separated. His past behavior strongly suggested that he lacked the skills and maturity to go on the field trip in the first place. I can appreciate the principal’s belief that no one should be excluded, but putting a kid into a situation like that is almost setting him up to fail. Plus, you have to have some system in place where kids learn that there are consequences for their actions. If you misbehave, if you get suspended from school, if you fail a class – all these things effect whether or not you will be able to go on the end of the year field trip (not to mention advance to the next grade). Saying you are going to enforce consequences and then not following through is teaching the wrong lesson and not benefiting anyone in the long run.

Sorry to go on and on. I was just deeply troubled by what I saw yesterday. I know these problems exist everywhere in schools across the country, but it is still hard to digest when confronted with situations like this head on. After all, they are just kids. Only in the sixth grade – most not even old enough to be considered “official teenagers”. And yet, here they are dealing with issues with no easy solution. No quick fix. Plus, this particular middle school happens to be the one in my neighborhood. It is a mere two blocks from my house. I pass these kids on my way to work everyday. If I had kids, this is the school they would attend.

It really makes you stop and think.

Funny what you remember...

They tore it down three days shy of the fourteenth anniversary of my grandfather's death.

Just over three years since my grandmother passed away, and I still lived there as a house sitter.

I knew it was coming.

I still cried when I finally saw it reduced to rubble. So many memories in that house. And now it is gone forever.

On March 30th, my grandmother's closet still smelled like her...




And part of me still expected to see her sitting on her bed through this window...

(I'd always try to sneak up and knock on her window from the yard without her noticing me. She'd always pretend like she didn't see me coming and act surprised. I’d giggle. She’d come out and give me a hug. I miss that.)

Now, nothing but memories remain.

I miss you Memaw...



I miss you Pop-Pop...



Love always,
Your Deeeeeeeeeal

Gone but never forgotten...

From this on March 30th, 2008...













...To this on April 5th.





Incase you cannot read the signs in front of the teardown pictures, they are advertising the Park Cities Historic & Preservation Society's 6th Annual Historic Home Tour. My grandparent's house was built in the 1920s, making it one of the "older" homes in the Park Cities. Nothing quite like irony, huh?

This is torture. NOT ART.

I received the following email forward from a friend of mine this morning. CLICK HERE to sign the petition and prevent such horrible animal cruelty from happening to another dog in Honduras in 2008.

To my animal lover friends,

Please forgive the group e-mail but this seems important and perhaps our signatures may help.

I'm wondering if you have heard about the boycott petition for an artist from Costa Rica who used a starving street dog as an art installation in a gallery in Nicaragua and purposely let the dog die in public view.

I received several e-mails about this issue and honestly at first I thought it was a hoax, I could not believe it was true, but sadly it is true.

This artist has been chosen to display this same "installation" with another dog in the 2008 Biennial in Honduras.

Here is the petition to boycott a second opportunity for this artist to have another dog dying in public display. You can find more information by googling the artist name, the 2008 Honduras Biennial and animal rights groups.

http://www.petitiononline.com/ea6gk/petition.html

I haven't been able to find any evidence online so far to suggest this is a prank or hoax.
And the pictures of the emaciated dog had to come from somewhere...

If this is someone's idea of a good laugh or April Fool's Day joke, though, it is NOT FUNNY.

The Weekend from Hell (in REAL time...well, almost)

As you may recall, I had a college friend visit me a couple of weekends ago. Remember the one who provided less than specific flight information? Yeah, THAT ONE. For the sake of anonymity, let’s call her “Trisha”.

In case you were wondering, I did finally meet up with her at the airport. Trisha was on a Delta flight that had been routed through Atlanta. So, yes, she WAS at DFW (which was a good thing after reading all of your comments suggesting that I had the wrong airport).

Anyway, back to the weekend: I had 1.5 days of comp time at work that I needed to utilize up before it expired, so I decided to use it for Trisha’s visit. I took all of Monday off and used the other half day the Friday she arrived. Only problem: I was going to be slightly late picking Trisha up on the day of her arrival.

Here’s an email I sent Trisha a week before her scheduled arrival informing her of my plans as it pertained to her visit:

Bad news: I might be a little late picking you up at the airport next Friday. I should be able to get there between 1-1:30, though.

Good news: The reason I might be a little late picking you up is because I got 1/2 day off on Friday (so I have to work until 1 or until my boss goes to lunch and then I'm free for the rest of the afternoon) and all day Monday, too!

Anyway, just thought I'd let you know. I'm using comp time, so I don't have to use vacation time or anything like that. Sweeeeet!

7 days!

-Deals

So, Trisha had been informed that I was planning on being late picking her up at the airport a week in advance. Not hugely late, just a little late (like half an hour). In fact, she sent the following email response acknowledging it all:

“Awesome! Well, knowing the air industry, I'll be late anyway. :) No worries though, I'll just hang out in the terminal and entertain myself. I can't wait!”

Of course, that was BEFORE I realized that I had no flight information for her whatsoever. But even that didn’t delay me by much. Trisha called me a little after 1 PM on Friday to tell me that she had just landed. I, in turn, asked her what terminal she was in and what gate she was closest to. I think she said something like, “E 10”, and I replied with, “Okay, great. I’ll be there in 20 minutes.”

Not ten minutes later I started receiving text messages asking me how much longer it would take me to get to her. Trisha was hungry. Trisha was tired. Like any amount of whining was going to make me arrive at DFW any faster. I did TRY, though, and somehow managed to pick her up at 1:25.

First thing she says to me isn’t, “Hi”, or “How are you?”, or “It is so good to see you!” Oh, no, no. First thing out of Trisha’s mouth is, “I’m hungry.”

Me: “Okay. What are you in the mood for?”

Trisha: “I dunno. You live here. Not me.”

If I only knew that that statement would set the tone for the entire weekend…

All day Friday, I decided to dismiss her seemingly constant complaining – choosing instead to chalking it all up to the fact that she only had three hours of sleep the night before (she had to wake up at 3 AM to drive to Tallahassee to catch her flight to Atlanta). I figured she was just tired and grumpy, and her attitude would improve with a little R&R.

Still, though, tired or not, her relentless criticisms were hard to take. Trisha hates dogs, and treated mine poorly. She wouldn’t go near them, touch them or anything. She seemed especially annoyed when I let them in the house, like they had no business being inside. And it wasn’t like my dogs were misbehaving or jumping all over her, either. I think animals can sense when they are unwanted and Gypsy Kitty and Haskell avoided Trisha like the plague.

And the dogs weren't a surprise, either. I always let any potential overnight guests know that I have two large dogs that sleep indoors at night. When I told Trisha about them, she told me that the dogs wouldn’t be a problem. True, she wasn’t a big lover of dogs, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t temporarily coexist with them.

Haskell’s “box” (or crate) is located in the guest bedroom. Normally, when people come to stay with me, they don’t mind that Haskell will be sleeping in his box in the same room with them. He’s locked inside, so it isn’t like Haskell is planning on sleeping in the bed with the guests or anything. Plus, he’s quiet (except for the occasional squeak). So, really, his crate just happens to be located in the guestroom is all.

Anyway, Trisha told me on the phone BEFORE her visit that she didn’t mind that she and Haskell would be sharing a room. But she did (of course) once she got here. And poor, confused Haskell had to relocate to my room. In the grand scheme of things, this isn’t that big of a deal. It was just one more thing that irritated me, though. If you didn’t like dogs and were planning on visiting someone who has dogs, why wouldn’t you just get a hotel room? Because I’m NOT going to board my dogs just because you are coming into town. I don’t care what you say. They LIVE HERE, not you.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. Not all of you have heard about the finer details of this particular weekend, and I feel as though I may be muddying your perspective of Trisha with my own.

(Slow down, Deals. Breathe, breathe…)

It wasn’t just the problem with the dogs that got to me. Within moments of entering my house that Friday, Trisha starting criticizing…well…everything. She didn’t like my furniture (it looked like a grandmother had decorated), my house was too cold and drafty (her grandmother keeps their house at a toasty 80 degrees year round) my yard was too small (her grandmother’s yard is 20 times larger with better landscaping), my plants were all dead (it’s winter), she HATES azaleas (because I planted them last spring just to irritate her), my house smelled like bleach (so the toilets were clean – sue me!), etc. It just went on and on. She even did a thorough inspection of all of my framed pictures to make sure she was represented in at least one of them. Thank goodness I did have a picture of her on display, or I’m sure I never would have heard the end of it. However, the picture I had of her was taken six years ago before she lost a lot of weight. So – just when I thought I was safe – I was reprimanded for framing a “fat” picture of her. I couldn’t win!

But my PERSONAL favorite line was this: “I could have gone to Hong Kong this year for my birthday. But I came to Dallas instead.” She obviously had a lot of HIGH expectations for the weekend. I knew right then and there that this weekend wasn’t going to go well. How can Dallas live up to Hong Kong?!

Because I knew she’d most likely be tired on the day of her arrival, I didn’t plan very much for Friday afternoon other than picking places to eat lunch (Two Rows) and dinner (Mattitos). This ended up being a huge mistake, because Trisha apparently doesn’t take naps – especially when she is on vacation. She did, however, feel like going for a walk. So, I took her to White Rock Lake. Looking back, this walk was quite possibly the only pleasant part of her visit. The only complaint I can remember was that I kept walking too fast (or too fast for her), and it wasn’t that big of a deal for me to slow down. In fact, I quite enjoyed the leisurely stroll in the late afternoon sunshine.

After the walk, however, Trisha started right back up again. She was persistent, whiney and the conversation went something like this:

Trisha: “[Audible sigh] What are we doing? I’m hungry and want to do something. I didn’t come to Dallas to sit on my butt on your couch, you know.”

Me: “I know. I’m sorry. Trevor is on his way home from work as we speak. We’ll go to dinner once he gets here. Are you feeling like Mexican food tonight?”

Trisha: “[Audible sigh] I don’t care what we eat. Just as long as I get fed.”

Me: “Okay. Well, he’ll be here soon, I swear.”

Trisha: “[Audible sigh] What do you mean by ‘soon’.”

Me: “Well, it is Friday and the traffic tends to be heavier right before the weekend. He’s generally home by 6:15 or 6:30, though, so I’m expecting him pretty much any minute.”

Trisha: “[Audible sigh] …”

Me: “Don’t worry. He’ll be here soon..”

Trisha: “Just so you know, I don’t want to play 3rd wheel to you two all weekend.”

Me: “I know. You already told me. I’ve invited Amy and another friend of mine to go to dinner with us tomorrow so you won’t feel like a 3rd wheel.”

Trisha: “[Groan] So you invited people I don’t know to MY birthday dinner?”

Me: “Well, you know Amy…”

Trisha: “…Yeah, okay. Whatever. Call Trevor and tell him to hurry up, will you?”

Trevor and I took her to Mattitos for dinner. We both ordered the Chicken Fajitas Light, which irritated Trisha because she wasn’t planning on ordering anything “light” while she was on vacation. Somehow I think she expected us to change our order after telling us this. We didn’t.

Still thinking she was just cranky because she was exhausted after a day of travel, I recommended that we watch a movie at my house after dinner. Surprisingly she didn’t resist this much, so we returned home and watched BEST IN SHOW. She picked it out, not me. I was surprised since she doesn’t like dogs and all.

Afterwards, we started getting ready for bed. I asked her if she wanted to sleep in a little in the morning since she’d had such a long day on Friday. Her answer: “No. I don’t sleep in. I’ll be up at 6 AM whether I want to be or not. My body is normal and doesn’t need 15 hours of sleep a night like yours.”

My response: “I wasn’t talking about sleeping until noon or anything. I just thought we’d plan on sleeping in a little. You know, like 8:30 or 9:00?”

Her: “Whatever. I’ll still be up at six.”

But she wasn’t. She managed to sleep until 9 AM (thank goodness!).

The first thing I said to Trisha the next morning was, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”

The first thing she said back to me was, “What are we doing today?”

So, I started to tell her my plan which included brunch, a tour of the Arts District (mainly the Turner exhibition at the Dallas Museum of Art and a walking tour of the Nasher Sculpture Center), the dragon parade in honor of the Chinese New Year at the Trammel Crow Asian Art Museum, Dinner at Tucker’s on Ross, party at my friend Mandy’s house, and then – if we were still standing – I thought we’d go out to a local bar or club for some dancing. However, I didn’t get past the word “brunch” before she started in on me:

Trisha: “Brunch? How about breakfast? Unlike you, I need to eat three meals a day.”

Me: “Uhmmm, I have some food in the kitchen. What do you want? I have egg whites, toast and cereal. You are welcome to eat whatever you’d like.”

Trisha: “Whatever.”

Me: “Does that mean you don’t want to do brunch?”

Trisha: “Nope. Think: lunch.”

Me: “Oh. Okay. I guess we could grab something downtown.”

But we didn’t. Trisha ate breakfast, and then decided to take a shower. A loooooong shower. Afterwards, she announced she didn’t have any deodorant, so we needed to go to Target. I offered her mine to use in the interim, and she used it before yelling that scented deodorants induce her migraines. Apparently, it would have been MY fault if she came down with a migraine on HER birthday. Because I knew that scented deodorants did that to her and all. Couldn’t she READ the label? It says SCENTED right there on the bottle! Then, just to make me bite my tongue some more, she threw her wet bath towel at me and said, “Here. You do something with this. It’s your house.”

Meanwhile, I had texted Trevor about the possibility of him picking up a cake for Trisha after he got off work. He asked what kind, and (remembering that Trisha was a very picky dessert eater) I asked her the following questions:

1. Did you give up sweets this year for Lent?


2. We’d like to buy you a cake for your birthday. What kind of cake would you like?

She had given up sweets in previous years, so the question wasn’t completely out of left field. This year, however, Trisha HAD decided to give up cake. Well, except for birthday cake (a fair exception if your birthday happens to fall during the Lenten Season, I suppose).

The answer to the second question, however, was much more complicated. Trisha apparently hates chocolate cake (unless it is German chocolate), doesn’t like most white cakes or frostings (in general, but not always), loves coconut cake (but only if it is handmade), and so on and so forth. Part of me thinks she expected me to bake a cake for her birthday. Since THAT wasn’t going to happen (mainly because I’m not very good at it), I told her that she could order a special dessert off the menu at dinner that night.

Which leads me to Tucker’s. Trisha asked what kind of food they have, and I told her that it was a nice restaurant that served everything from spinach salad to bisque to elegant seafood dishes to pizza. Her comment: “So, you’re taking me to some pizza joint for my birthday?” She followed it with a very sarcastic “Greeeeeat.”

I texted Trevor back and told him to pick up a tiara instead.

Around 11 or so, I finally got Trisha into my car and we headed to Target. I thought it was going to be a quick trip. You know, grab some unscented deodorant and go. But no, no. She also needed a strapless bra, some kind of weird foot pad for her heel and new shoes. Oh, and Trisha doesn’t do anything fast. She sits there and agonizes over anything and everything. In restaurants, she has to read the menu from cover to cover before ordering. So, yeah, buying shoes is like that, but worse. In case you haven’t noticed how many DIFFERENT kinds of size 8 ½ women’s shoes they have at Target nowadays, I’m here to tell you: A WHOLE FREAKIN’ LOT! We were there for almost two hours. I. Almost. Died.

Trisha finally did make a shoe decision, though, and we made it through the check out a little before 1 PM. Since she had already started in on how hungry she was, I decided to take her to a restaurant close to Target for lunch instead of immediately heading downtown. So, I took her to the Kona Grill at the Northpark mall. They have a wide variety of cuisine, which I thought Trisha would approve of since she is such a picky eater. But she didn’t like it. Or rather she was mad at me for not telling her which peanut flavored entrée to order (note: I don’t like peanut flavored food. I like peanuts and peanut butter, but not anything peanut seasoned. Does that make sense?). I told her I had friends that had ordered the peanut flavored whatever, and they had all seemed to enjoy it. I had never tasted it, though, because (again) I do not enjoy peanut flavored cuisine. Well, long story short: Trisha didn’t like what she ordered and blamed me. Awe-some.

We finished lunch around 2 PM, and headed downtown. I thought we’d check out the Turner exhibit at the Dallas Museum of Art before heading to the Trammel Crow Museum, but Trisha didn’t seem interested visiting the art museum at all. So, we headed across Flora to where the Dragon Parade would take place at 4 PM. Having almost two hours to kill, I recommended walking through the Asian Art Museum. Trisha had been to Asia, so I thought it would strike her fancy. Surprising enough, it didn’t. At one point, I felt her staring at me as I read a text panel next to a beautiful, old Japanese tapestry. Looking up at her, Trisha stated, “Are you going to read everything?” I think I said something like, “Sorry, I thought that is what you did in museums,” before continuing on.

Trisha was VERY persistent that we get good seats for the Dragon Parade. So, around 3 PM, we headed back down to Flora, picked a place she liked, sat down and waited for the show to begin. Since we had an hour to kill, I tried to make small talk. I didn’t get very far.

Me: “How’s Florida?”

Trisha: “It sucks.”

Me: “It can’t be that bad.”

Trisha: “Believe me. It can.”

Me: “Why don’t you move if you don’t like it?”

Trisha: “Believe me, I will.”

Me: “Where do you think you will go.”

Trisha: “I dunno. Somewhere else not in Florida, I guess.”

[LONG PAUSE]

Me: “What do you think of Trevor?”

Trisha: “I don’t know him. I just met him last night.”

Me: “I know. But you have wanted to meet him for years now. Any thoughts?”

Trisha: “As far as I know, he could be a serial killer.”

Me: “Oh.”

[LONG PAUSE]

Me: “I was thinking after this we could go get manicures for your birthday.”

Trisha: “No. I don’t think so.”

[LONG PAUSE]

Me: “I was thinking about taking you to the new Old Red Courthouse Museum tomorrow.”

Trisha: “Why would you take me there?”

Me: “Well, you like history and I thought you’d enjoy learning about the history of Dallas and all.”

Trisha: “I’d rather not.”

Me: “Oh. Okay.”

[LONG PAUSE]

Me: “Well, what would you like to do?”

Trisha: “I told you. You live here, not me. How am I supposed to know what to do in this city?”

Me: “I dunno. You seem to have a pretty good idea what you don’t want to do.”

Trisha: “I want to do things that you never do. How about that?”

Me: “We ARE doing things I never do. I never come to the Arts District except for work-related meetings anymore.”

Trisha: “No. I mean new-new things. Let’s do stuff you never do. You know, stuff outside your comfort box. Things you’ve never even considered.”

Me: “Like what?”

Trisha: “[Sighing…] Never mind.”

Me: “No. Seriously. Like what? If you want to do something I’ve never considered, chances are I won’t consider it now. Because, you know, I haven’t considered it and all.”

Trisha: “Like I said, ‘Never mind’.”

I finally gave up trying to chit chat with her. The hour seemed to drag on and on – it was miserable. Luckily, though, the dragon parade was worth waiting for. At least in my opinion. Who knows what Trisha thought. I’m guessing she didn’t like it.

After the parade, Trisha and I went for coffee at Starbucks (mainly because she wasn’t interested in getting birthday manicures). Then we went back to my place to get ready for dinner.

For her birthday dinner, Trisha had brought along a pink, cotton dress. It wasn’t super formal, but a dress you’d wear to brunch or Sunday morning church. However, out of the blue, she decided she wasn’t going to wear it after all. Her reasoning: why risk getting it dirty since I was only taking her to some “stupid, old pizza place”. It was only after seeing me dress up for dinner that she changed her mind.

As mentioned before, I had asked Amy and Bert to join us for Trisha’s birthday dinner, so Trisha wouldn’t feel like a 3rd wheel to Trevor and me on her birthday. JLR and RR were supposed to come as well, but decided to go to some sort of “game night” instead. Melissa was also invited but ended up being out of town that weekend. Lucky ladies!

While we were waiting for everyone to arrive, Trevor sat down on the couch and turned on the TV. I don’t think he really wanted to watch anything in particular. Just turn on ESPN or something for background noise while he waited for Amy and Bert to arrive. When he hit the TV “ON” button, CNN popped up. Obviously, the last person who had used that TV had been watching the news. Even though Trevor immediately reached for the remote control, Trisha shouted, “Oh, no! We are NOT watching CNN on MY birthday!”

Trevor: “Hold on, hold on. I’m changing it. Just give me a second.”

Trisha: “Well, you are obviously not doing it fast enough because I can still see it.”

Thank goodness Bert rang the door bell at that moment, or Trevor may have said something he would have regretted.

Amy, knowing it was Trisha’s birthday (and wanting to do something nice for a friend of mine), made a mix CD as a present and gave it to Trisha on the way to Tuckers. Thinking it would be fun, I immediately stuck it in the player in Trevor’s car so we could listen to it. Wanting to know what “mystery” tracks Amy had selected for the mix, we listened to a portion of the song before hitting SKIP to find out what was next. Every song that came on Trisha (apparently) hated. She – literately – had NOTHING nice to say about anything on the CD. In fact, after the last song on the CD had been played, Trisha turned to Amy and said, “So, essentially you gave me lame CD for MY birthday? Gee, thanks.” Like Amy had to give her anything for her birthday! Whatever happened to appreciating the thought – even if you didn’t like the gift? Grrrrr…

Dinner was relatively uneventful. Trisha was obnoxious, but by then that was to be expected. I DID make her wear the tiara Trevor bought her for the entire meal (it was just fitting somehow).

Since we didn’t know what to give Trisha for her birthday, Trevor and I decided to go in together on a gift card for her. It wasn’t a lot – just $25 or $30 because I was also planning on buying her dinner at Tuckers that evening. Anyway, we put the gift card inside her birthday card as a surprise. Although we watched Trisha open the card, she never even acknowledged the gift card or said thank you. Instead, Trisha kind of rolled her eyes at the whole thing and put the card away.

And dinner? Yeah, not so cheap either. Trisha’s portion of the meal was $75. She had ordered some of the most expensive items on the menu and insisted on having her own dessert. Then, she didn’t seem to enjoy anything she ate – constantly commenting on how she would have made it or how much better a cook her grandmother was than any chef. And I thought she was going to pitch a fit when the Tuckers wait staff didn’t sing her HAPPY BIRTHDAY! It was like nothing was good enough, no matter how hard we tried. Oh, and Trisha NEVER (NOT ONCE) said thank you for any of it. She just rolled her eyes and criticized the entire evening.

After dinner, we had plans to stop by a party being hosted by my friend, Mandy. Trisha didn’t seem interested in going to it (wanting, instead, to go dancing), but we persuaded her to go for a little while because it was still early and none of the clubs really got going until after 10 PM.

On the way to Mandy’s, Trisha whined and whined about what we were (apparently) making her do on HER special day, and we promised her again and again that we wouldn’t be there for long. Just 30 to 45 minutes. Long enough to have a drink and say HI to everyone. Then we’d leave. Bert was already planning on going dancing at a club on lower Greenville, and I figured we’d tag along with her (Bert goes out dancing pretty regularly, so she is much more “with it” when it comes to clubbing than I am. After everything else, I didn’t want to risk taking Trisha dancing at some place she’d refer to as “lame”. Much safer to go with Bert).

So, we got to Mandy’s and there were a bunch of people there eating, drinking and having a good time. Someone had hooked up Mandy’s PlayStation and several guys were singing karaoke as a part of the AMERICAN IDOL game (which was even more humorous considering the oh-so creative avatars they kept creating for themselves before they “performed” in front of everyone). It was a fun party. Well, except for Trisha who sat in the corner, didn’t talk to anyone and refused to even look like she was happy (much less having a good time). People kept coming up to her and trying to make small talk, but Trisha was having none of it. She even yelled at someone for accidentally mispronouncing her name.

We had only been there for about half an hour, when I tried to offer Trisha a drink. She was sitting on the other side of the bar from me, looking absolutely put out. Since she looked so annoyed, I even added, “Don’t worry. We’ll leave soon. I promise. Just give it 10 or 15 minutes more, and then we’ll go dancing.”

And that is when Trisha let me have it. In front of everyone she chewed me out for bringing her to, “a lame a$$ party on HER birthday.” She couldn’t think of anything more awful than karaoke, and I was a horrible friend for exposing her to such a boring party in the first place on her special day. And to think she flew in for such torture!

That was it. I couldn’t take it anymore, I was so angry. Not wanting to make a scene (or any more of one), all I said was, “Stop. You need to stop. Now.”

Trisha: “Excuse me?”

Me: “Just stop.”

Without another word to Trisha, I found Trevor and told him we needed to go. I then walked over to wear Trisha was sitting, grabbed my purse and – without so much as looking at her – said, “Get your stuff. We’re leaving.”

Luckily, I found Mandy downstairs (I was SO happy she wasn’t in the room when Trisha had her outburst). I quickly thanked her for inviting us to her party and told her that we’d love to stay but my out-of-town guest wanted to go dancing.

Back in Trevor’s car, Trisha didn’t say much except to insult Amy’s mix CD once again. It took about all I had not to snap back at her. I was so angry.

I decided once we got back to my house that going out dancing was out of the question. Quite frankly, I didn’t feel like it. I knew that no matter where we took her, it wouldn’t be good enough. Plus, I couldn’t even look at her, much less think of something to say. So, Bert went on to the club without us. Trisha, realizing that her birthday festivities were over, went into the guest room and closed the door. Amy, Trevor and I sat in the living room for awhile afterwards in silence. None of us knowing what to say (or how to say it since Trisha was just a room away), but silently agreeing that Trisha was a big problem.

The next morning, Trevor and I had planned on taking Trisha to brunch at a cool little place called Buzz Brews. We had also asked Bert to come along because – again – we didn’t want Trisha to feel like a third wheel all weekend.

The night before we had discussed doing brunch around 10 AM. If Trisha woke up early and required breakfast, she was more than welcome to the cereal and milk I have at home. However (despite her swearing up and down that she cannot sleep past 6 AM), Trisha still wasn’t up by 9:30. So, I gently knocked on the guest room door and reminded her of the plan. At first, I didn’t hear anything so I tried again. This time I got a response, and it was a cranky one. Trisha announced that she wasn’t going anywhere before she took a shower and “readied” herself for the day.

So, despite the fact that Bert was due at my house by 9:45 AM AND Trisha was aware of this plan in advance, we all just sat around staring at each other in the kitchen while Trisha took her sweet time getting dressed and ready to go.

Trisha had apparently decided to make us pay for “ruining” her birthday by giving everyone the silent treatment. Seriously. She said nothing unless spoken to. It was horrible. At one point, in an effort to make small talk, Bert asked Trisha, “So, what do you do back in Florida?”

Trisha (sharply): “Nothing.”

Bert: “Oh. Okay.”

The whole morning was like that. You could literately choke on the tension.

Oh, and brunch? She hated it. Wouldn’t even try any of the menu items – choosing instead to just order an egg and some toast. Trevor paid for everyone’s meal, and even though both Bert and I thanked Trevor repeatedly, Trisha said nothing as usual.

After brunch was over, I recommended that we head to Neiman's at Northpark to check out their sale. Amy had mentioned it the day before and Trisha seemed interested. Plus, I knew Trisha was keen to try on a pair of boots she had seen in a Neiman’s catalogue recently. It seemed like a good activity that Trisha would enjoy (especially since she didn’t seem to like anything I had suggested the day before).

But (surprise, surprise) Trisha didn’t enjoy Neiman’s either. This was only complicated by the fact that the boots she had seen in the catalogue were not anywhere to be found.

Great.

Thinking she might enjoy shopping somewhere else, we left Neiman’s and entered the mall. Walking into Kate Spade:

Bert: “Oh! I just love Kate Spade!”

Trisha: “It’s too expensive.”

Bert: “But looking is half the fun!”

Trisha: “Not if you are me.”

Bert: “Well, I love to look.”

Trisha: “That’s just you. Believe me.”

Bert: “Okaaaaay.”

Needless to say, we ended up leaving Northpark not long after we arrived.

Trying to think of where to go next, Bert and I offered a variety of museums and attractions we could visit, but none of them interested Trisha.

Bert: “How about the Zoo?”

Trisha: “No. I hate zoos.”

Me: “Well, we could drive to Ft. Worth and check out the…”

Trisha: “…No. I came to Dallas. Not Ft. Worth.”

Bert: “How about the Sixth Floor Museum?”

Trisha: “No! I’ve been there already and I don’t want to go back.”

Me: “Well, what would you LIKE to do then?”

Trisha: “I dunno. You live here, not me.”

Seriously. Every suggestion we made, she turned down. But Trisha wouldn’t give us any clues as to what she would rather do instead. I felt like screaming, “I don’t read minds, you know!” It was so frustrating.

Thank goodness Bert kept trying (the saint!), and when she offered to give us a private tour of Dallas Heritage Village at Old City Park, I jumped on it before Trisha could pooh-pooh that idea as well.

Bert’s tour was AWESOME. She got us in for free and had keys to all the locked buildings at the museum. So we got to go inside some of the houses that no one else touring the park that day got to venture in to. It was like we were celebrities or something. Plus, Nip and Tuck (the resident donkeys) LOVE Bert. When they saw her approaching, they both nickered in greeting and came over to the fence and let us all pet them. According to Bert, the only trick to gaining Nip and Tuck’s affection is through their stomachs. Specifically: Apples. Show up with apples on a quasi-regular basis and those two mammoth jackasses will love you forever. Sigh. It must be wonderful to work somewhere with cute, fuzzy animals!

Sadly, there is no known “apple trick” when it comes to Lucy the cow (or Trisha for that matter). She just stared at us from the middle of the pen she shares with the sheep (looking extremely annoyed and put out as always).

Of course, no matter how interesting Bert’s tour was, it did nothing for Trisha. She walked behind us at a snail’s pace, looking completely and utterly detached and bored. On several occasions I heard her sigh loudly and roll her eyes as Bert was talking. Trisha made absolutely no effort to pay attention – choosing instead to text message on her cell phone. It was ridiculous, not to mention rude.

Here’s the thing: it wasn’t like Bert was working that day. It was, in fact, her day off. She was giving us the tour of Dallas Heritage Village out of the kindness of her heart. Even if Trisha was mad at me, it didn’t give her any reason to treat my friend that way. It was like Trisha was a five year old child moping around because she didn’t get what she wanted (not that any of us knew what that was, but still!). At 29, Trisha should know to treat people with respect – especially strangers who are just trying to do her a favor and show her a good time.

And did Trisha thank Bert at the conclusion of the tour? Of course not. She just walked to Trevor’s car and got in without saying a word.

After leaving Dallas Heritage Village and Bert (who had afternoon plans), Trevor and I decided to drive around downtown. The original purpose of this voyage was to make sure that Sonny Bryan’s smokehouse in the West End was open on Sundays (as Trisha had announced that she wanted BBQ for before the weekend was over). Once there, however, we decided to drive around and show her some of the sights. So, we drove through downtown (being careful to avoid anything to do with JFK since Trisha wanted nothing to do with that) pointing out things like the public library, city hall, farmers market, Scottish Rite Cathedral, etc. We would have continued with this impromptu driving tour of Dallas if Trisha had seemed the slightest bit interested in what she was seeing (which she wasn’t).

My favorite moment from the “driving tour” was approaching the Texas Longhorn Cattle Drive Sculpture in Pioneer Plaza with Trisha in the car. I’ve always enjoyed the sculpture. It is, after all, the largest of its kind anywhere in the world (depicting 50 steers and 3 cowboys). Friends that have visited me in the past have enjoyed getting out of the car and walking the length of it to better appreciate the vast amount of space the sculpture occupies (not to mention the work that goes into creating a life size work of art like that). However, Trisha just looked up when I asked if she wanted to get out of the car for a closer look and said, “No need. It’s just a bunch of metal cows.”

Riiiiiiiiight.

Not knowing what to do next (and getting no help from the backseat), Trevor and I decided to take Trisha to the Arboretum. It was a beautiful day – nice and warm with a lot of sunshine. Still trying to be a good host, I paid for our parking and the three adult tickets. Did I get a thank you? Of course not!

We walked in a giant circle around the Arboretum, pausing to look at the various water sculptures and red camellias in full bloom. It really was a pleasant stroll, even if Trisha was behind us moping about.

For most of the walk, Trisha was quiet and didn’t say very much – except when she encountered an azalea. Then she’d remind us how much she hated them. Apparently, everyone on her block in Florida – including her grandmother – plants azaleas. So, when they all bloom in the springtime it looks like, “someone spray painted the entire neighborhood with Pepto-Bismol.” I guess we were lucky no azaleas were in bloom that weekend. Had there been, Trisha might have made us leave before we even arrived.

After we finished the circle around all the gardens, Trisha turned to Trevor and me and said, “Is that all?” Like she expected more, and was sorely disappointed. She didn’t seem like she wanted to explore any more of the various pathways around the Arboretum, announcing instead that she was hungry. Trevor and I tried in vain to find an open café on the grounds. Unfortunately, they were all closed, so we decided to explore the gift shop before leaving on the off chance it had something she’d like to buy or eat. Surprisingly, Trisha actually seemed to enjoy the gift store, and really looked hard at several of the items on sale there (even though she ended up buying nothing).

We left the Arboretum around 4:30 PM and headed back to my house to clean up and regroup. Trisha seemed excited about the prospect of eating BBQ, but we still didn’t have an “after dinner activity”. Not knowing what else to recommend, Trevor suggested going to see a movie. Trisha seemed interested, so we pursued it once we got back home by turning on my computer and checking out movie times and schedules. I thought deciding on a movie with Trisha was going to be difficult, and – although it was FAR from easy – we were able to settle on the same flick without as much trouble as I had anticipated. I think the negotiations only lasted forty minutes or so. The winner? Michael Clayton.

Since the movie was playing at the Inwood Theater, Trevor thought it would be best to grab BBQ at the Sonny Bryans on Lovers Lane instead of venturing all the way downtown. So that was the only part of the plan that changed. Well, that and the decision to stop at Sprinkles along the way. Trisha had read about the cupcake goodness in a magazine, and when Trevor mentioned that there was one in Dallas she all but fell over with excitement.

The stop at Sprinkles took awhile. Not because there was a long line (a Sprinkles first), but because Trisha spent about twenty minutes agonizing over which one to choose. In the end, I think she purchased four different cupcakes, but still managed to yell at Trevor for taking the last BLACK AND WHITE. Poor Trevor.

Next was dinner at Sonny Bryans. I was worried about the BBQ dinner because sometimes the combination of smoky smells and smoky flavoring in BBQ can trigger my migraines. I had told Trisha about this (I stupidly thought she would care since she too has problems with migraines), but to no avail. I did think ahead, though, and took both a Benadryl and a Frova (my migraine pills) as a preventative measure before we left my house. Luckily, this seemed to work, because I didn’t get a migraine. I DID leave dinner with a headache, but I’m not completely convinced that wasn’t just caused by spending too much time with Trisha.

Trevor offered to buy Trisha her dinner, but I told him not to. She had freeloaded for most of the weekend without ever saying thank you or acknowledging any of it. Enough was enough. Of course, this immediately changed once we arrived at the movie theater, and Trevor bought all three movie tickets. I think he thought she’d at least thank him for the movie when he handed her a ticket. But no. Trisha said nothing. Just stuck the ticket in her jean pocket and turned to walked away.

We had sometime to kill before the movie started, so I suggested we walk around Inwood Village instead of sitting in the theater lobby. I was kind of hoping Trisha would refuse to go, but she didn’t. Sigh.

We slowly made a figure eight around the shops and restaurants that make up Inwood Village. The night was warm, and it felt good to be moving after eating BBQ.

Along the way, Trevor and I were chatting about some of the stores in the complex. One of my favorites is a place called Jaya. It sells Asian antiques and furniture. Most of the stuff on display is out of my price range, but I DID buy my armoire there just before I moved into the house I live in now. A lot of my home is furnished by Ikea, and the armoire represented something nice and real that I had worked hard and saved for. Anyway, Trisha overheard me talking to Trevor about how the furniture inside Jaya was expensive (but not unrealistically so like THIS $20,000 armoire at The Market at Home store in Inwood Village) and just had to chime in. Apparently, if it was expensive it wasn’t worth owning at all.

I’ll spare you the details, but the end result was something like this:

My point: Yes, my armoire was expensive, but affordable (unlike some other furniture stores where similar pieces of furniture run at $10,000 or $15,000). I knew what I wanted and how much I was willing to pay for it. The armoire at Jaya was exactly the piece of furniture I was seeking at a price that wouldn’t break the bank.

Her point: She’d NEVER be caught dead buying anything in that store. Only somebody like me would waste my money on something so stupid.

So, yeah. Whatever.

A similar conversation occurred when we passed a store selling maternity cloths for women. Trevor has been talking a lot about marriage and children recently (feel my panic!), and made some comment along the lines of, “One day when we have children…”

Trisha, who apparently hates children and thinks people who have them are idiots, promptly responded with, “Well, if you do, don’t call me.”

Ya’ll: It took all my inner power (both physical AND mental) not to immediately snap back: “Don’t worry. We won’t.” To this day, I’m not sure how I kept that thought to myself. And Trevor? Yeah, he totally thought the same thing! Go us!

We finally made our way back to the theater. Trisha immediately plopped into a chair in the theater lobby and resumed texting on her cell phone. Trevor and I wondered around looking at things in silence (we were still within earshot of Trisha) until it was time to go into the theater and find seats. This – like everything else that weekend – was easier said than done. The first row Trevor selected was too close to the screen, the second had seats that were broken (at least according to Trisha) and the third apparently smelled of vomit (I only smelled stale, buttery popcorn. Not bile. But, then again, no one asked me). Finally, we found seats that Trisha approved of and settled in for the show.

I cannot be sure, but I’m almost positive that Trisha hated the movie. Afterwards, she claimed it was “okay”, but I swear she came close to falling asleep in the theater that evening. She was completely hunched over, with her head resting on her hand. Like everything else we did that weekend, Trisha seemed so disengaged and uninterested that it was distracting. She kept sighing throughout the movie. It wasn’t over-the-top or anything, but loud enough where I could hear it. Even though it was dark, I could still feel her eyes rolling somehow. Maybe I was just being too sensitive, though.

After the movie was over, we all piled back in Trevor’s car and headed back to my place. Hardly a word was muttered the entire way. Once we got home, Trisha immediately headed back to the guest room and closed the door without so much as a “good night” or “see you tomorrow”.

The next morning, Trisha woke up early and I could hear her moving around the house. I decided I wanted to sleep in, so I didn’t start to get dressed until around 9 AM. While I was brushing my teeth, Trevor turned on the Weather Channel. We had both heard the reports about the possibilities of severe weather that day, and wanted the most up-to-date information. After all, it might affect Trisha’s departure.

Sure enough, the Weather Channel was calling for the risk of severe weather to increase as the afternoon wore on. All the models suggested that the first line of storms would hit between 3 and 5 PM – right at the height of the afternoon rush hour (and the exact time we were planning on driving Trisha to DFW). So, I turned to Trevor and whispered the following to him:

“Trev, I need you to back me up on this. I’m going to go out there and tell Trisha that we need to take her to the airport after lunch because of the risk of severe weather. I don’t want to be on the highway in heavy traffic during an afternoon thunderstorm, and I’m assuming you don’t either. Something like that could make us late getting her to the airport. Miss her flight even! I think it is best we recommend leaving here for the airport around 2:30 or 3 PM. If we present a united front on this, I’m sure she’ll listen. Otherwise, she’ll just assume we want to dump her at the airport early.”

Trevor, thank goodness, agreed, and I went out to break the news to Trisha.

However, I wasn’t prepared for what happened next. I walked into the living room only to discover Trisha, already dressed and sitting on the couch, with her bags packed and ready to go. Not expecting this, I hesitated before saying, “Hi. Good morning!”

Without even looking at me, Trisha said, “I want to go to the airport. Now.”

Me: “But your flight doesn’t leave until almost 7 PM. It isn’t even 10 AM, yet.”

Trisha: “I’m going to try to get on an earlier flight. The weather looks like it is going to get worse as the day goes on, and I don’t want to get stuck here. So, go get dressed and let’s go.”

Me: “Okay. Give me ten minutes.”

I walked back into the bedroom and told Trevor the (good) news. We were ready to leave five minutes later.

The drive to DFW was made in complete and utter silence. There was nothing to say. At least nothing nice.

Upon arriving at gate E, I told Trisha to call me and let me know if she was successful in getting on earlier flight. If she wasn’t able to, and her 7 PM flight was cancelled due to weather, I told her I’d be more than willing to come back out to the airport and pick her up.

Her response, “Yeah, okay. Whatever.”

I then wished her happy travels, and asked her to please let me know when she got back home.

This time all I got was, “Okay. Bye.”

Trevor and I got back in the car, and watched as Trisha walked into the terminal without so much as a wave, thank you or a look back in our direction.

It might make me a bad person, but all I could think was, “Ding! Dong! The WITCH is gone!”

Trisha had insulted everyone and everything she had come in contact with during her stay in Dallas. It is one thing to treat ME that way, but leave my friends and family out of it.

The thing about Trisha is that she’s very proud of being both an only child AND an only grandchild. She’s spoiled and knows it. I think she believes that somehow gives her the right to treat everyone around her like trash. I honestly believe that Trisha thought I owed it to her to buy her meals, museum entrance fees, etc., and pamper her during her stay with me. Even more so since she had decided to come and visit me in Dallas instead of travelling to Hong Kong with her grandmother. And I would not have minded doing so if she had given me some clue as to what she wanted to do. Obviously, the plans I had made in preparation for her visit were not good enough. But I’m not a mind reader, so unless you tell me things you’d rather go do, see, etc., I’m probably not going to come up with the right answer on my own.

And then there was the complete lack of gratitude. I mean, would it have killed her to say “Thank You”? Especially to people like Bert, who gave Trisha a tour of a museum on her day off? Or Amy who made a birthday mix for Trisha just because? A CD which Trisha left in Trevor’s car, by the way. Apparently, Trisha didn’t feel moved to take such a “lame CD” back to Florida with her.

I had also purchased a copy of TEXAS MONTHLY and D MAGAZINE for Trisha’s visit, and gave them to her when she arrived. Trisha was a magazine journalism major in college, so I thought she’d appreciate having them (and also give her ideas of things she’d like to do during her trip to Dallas). Of course, she never thanked me for them, much less opened either one (at least not to my knowledge). And, after Trevor and I had taken Trisha to the airport, I found both magazines in a pile of garbage she had left for me at the foot of the (unmade) guest room bed.

I dunno. I guess this trip to Dallas was kind of make-or-break for Trisha and me. We were friends in college, but never very close. I mean, we studied abroad in London together and hung out on occasion, but we didn’t have very much in common other than a few mutual friends. Plus, staying in touch with her hasn’t been easy over the years. She’s very demanding whereas I like to think of myself as being more laid back and relaxed. It apparently isn’t a good combination as can be seen from the retelling of “The Weekend From Hell”.

Sigh. It really is too bad, but I just don’t see us being friends anymore. After Trisha’s display that weekend, I’m not sure I want to see her again, much less continue being her “friend”. Does that make me a bad person?

Probably.

I’m guessing the feeling is mutual, though. Trisha never called, texted or emailed me to let me know that she got safely back to Florida. Nor has she ever sent anything along the lines of a thank you note.

So, yeah. I suppose all that is left to say is:

THE END

How sad is that?

And the 'Cult of Fear' continues...

Anyone else see similarities between this...

...and this...

...or is it just me?

I'm just saying, is all...

Things suck.

I'd elaborate on that thought, but I can’t. And I won’t.

The End.

Taking deep breaths...

Incase you haven’t stopped by in awhile; things have been a little tense over here at Blinky Moments. Although, I promise to keep everyone up to date with any new developments in the “TRAVIS CLAYTON BEAT UP MY LITTLE SISTER” saga, I thought it was time to take a break and return (if only briefly) to this BLOG’s regularly scheduled programming.

So, keeping that in mind, here is a video I took of a little dog “dancing” at PetSmart a couple of weekends ago. My favorite part is the little boy’s commentary off camera, so turn up your volume if it isn’t already.

(Oh, how I love stupid dog videos!)

Food for thought...

"Do you feel like a man
When you push her around?
Do you feel better now as she falls to the ground?
Well, I'll tell you my friend, one day this world's got to end
As your lies crumble down, a new life she has found.

"A pebble in the water makes a ripple effect
Every action in this world will bear a consequence
If you wade around forever you will surely drown
I see what's going down.
I see the way you go and say you're right again,
Say you're right again,
Heed my lecture."

- The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus, Face Down, 2006

Time for a chat...

Anonymous said...
does anyone know the other side to this story? Amy went over to travis' appartment and broke all his stuff and went crazy. he asked her to leave and she refused. she then started physically attacking him. he has scratches all over his body from Amy's attack. This also was not the first time she has physically hurt him. She had preveiously given him two black eyes. Travis also has a whitness that says he never saw him intentionally hurt Amy. If you ask me, Amy is the one who needs anger management. She's the one who needs help. And people need to stop spreading bullsh*t rumors over the internet.

2/21/2007 4:02 PM


Anonymous said...
So why don't all of you stop judging someone you don't even know about a situation you know nothing about.

2/21/2007 4:13 PM

Dear “Anonymous” Commenter,

First of all, I would like to thank you for commenting on THIS post. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been waiting to hear from you. Quite the contrary, actually. I’ve been eagerly anticipating your arrival and would like to formally welcome you to the conversation. I do hope you stick around for awhile, as we have a lot to discuss.

Let me begin by answering your first question: “Does anyone know the other side to this story?” My answer is no. No, I don’t know the other side of the story. Quite frankly, I don’t even care. Amy is my sister. She says that Travis hurt her. I do not need to know anything else. She is my family, and families trust and believe one another unconditionally. If the same is not true for your family, I am truly sorry.

This will probably seem painfully obvious to you, but I would like to take the opportunity to point something out: Just as I am not familiar with Travis’ side of the story, you are apparently not familiar with Amy’s. I would like to encourage you to become educated about Amy’s side of the story. And by “educated” I mean “from the source”. No more of this hearsay nonsense. That is getting us nowhere. Once you have properly educated yourself about both sides (from the horses mouths, so to speak), feel free to chastise me publicly about my alliance to Amy being so one sided. Until then, however, do not ask me again to do something that you yourself have so clearly left undone.

As for “spreading bullsh*t rumors over the internet”, I must disagree. In my post on Monday, I did not delve into any of the particulars of the events that transpired on the evening in question. In fact, my argument was only that I did not believe anyone, under any circumstances, deserved to be hit. This is true for my commentary as well. If you do not believe me, I invite you to revisit the posting for yourself. HERE is another link to it for your convenience.

Even if, as you claim, Amy did go, “Over to Travis' apartment and broke all his stuff and went crazy,” why does this give Travis the right to hit her? Why didn’t he simply pick up the phone and call the cops? Or walk away? Travis is almost a foot taller than Amy, and I find it hard to believe that he was incapable of removing himself from the situation.

Similarly, had Amy really physically attacked Travis on previous occasions, which I seriously doubt, why did he again decide to remain silent? I stand by my belief that no one, under any circumstances, deserves to be hit. So, why did he do nothing? Was he simply embarrassed that a girl, no taller than five foot one, was able to give him not one, but two black eyes? Why didn’t he take pictures or call the police and document this supposed assault? Why didn’t you, his friend, support him in filing charges? After all, it is hard to hide a black eye (much less two). Yet, you are the first person to ever disclose this “information”. My guess is that, even if (and what a big “if” it is!) Travis was on the receiving end of a couple of black eyes, there is no way that he can, beyond a shadow of a doubt, tie Amy to them. Which leads us back to “hearsay”. Forgive me if I’m no longer interested in hearing such silly rumors that you yourself are now responsible for spreading all over the internet.

As for your claim that Amy scratched Travis, of that I have no doubt. In fact, she told me she scratched him. Told the cops as well. After all, scratching is a very common defense mechanism employed by individuals in an attempt to get away from both the attack and their attacker. I’d go so far as to call it a textbook reaction, given the circumstances.

Of course, I’m sure you will be very quick to point out that I was not in the room that evening. To which I would respond: Neither were you. Unless you are the very man in question, but I seriously doubt that Travis Clayton wrote either of the comments listed above. Much more likely that you are one of the “friends” I mentioned in Monday’s post. Why, may I ask, do you feel the need to mask your identity by posting as “Anonymous”? Are you not secure enough to go on the record as a named individual who supports Travis? If I felt confident enough to defend a friend of mine publicly, I would have no problem letting the world know who I was. After all, I’d want that friend and everyone else to know that I was proud to support them and their cause. Not ashamed and hiding behind a non identity.

I know what you are probably thinking: My blog does not reveal my true identity, either. However, rest assured, Amy only has one sister. My identity really isn’t a mystery, now is it?

Had Travis been secure enough in his own story that evening, he could have very easily opened his door and spoken with the Dallas Police Officers when they came over to question him that evening. By doing so, his side of the story would have been officially heard and documented. Instead, Travis chose to remain silent and avoid the cops (literately) knocking at his door. Forgive me, but I see that not only as a cowardly act, but a near admission of guilt as well.

As for this supposed witness: I am assuming you are speaking of Travis’ roommate at the time. Since the roommate was in his bedroom for most of the events that transpired that evening, I am not surprised that, “He never saw [Travis] intentionally hurt Amy”. Technically, Travis’ roommate never saw Travis NOT intentionally hurt Amy, either. This brings us back to Amy’s injuries. Exactly, how do you explain those? Did the bruises just appear? Or are you implying something much more sinister?...Namely, that Amy’s injuries were self inflicted? Please do not make me go into all the reasons why THAT is a ridiculous notion. I do not have any desire to waste my time probing into the absurdly hypothetical. And, quite frankly, if you have to resort to the absurd to explain away something, than maybe there is a much more obvious answer (i.e. that Travis really did hit Amy that night).

As for your final statement of, “Why don't all of you stop judging someone you don't even know about a situation you know nothing about”. I would like to remind you of two things. One: you aren’t even following your own instructions seeing as though you are neither Amy nor Travis, and are basing your involvement in the situation upon a bunch of “he said, she said”. Again, do not ask something of me that you yourself are not willing to do. Two: I know both Travis and Amy. This is my Blog and I am confident that my freedom of speech is still intact. You, in turn, are welcome to express your beliefs and opinions, as are any individuals who feel so compelled to comment on any of my self-described ramblings. I am under no obligation, moral or otherwise, to agree with you, but I will promise that nothing you write will be erased (unless you or anyone else resorts to what I will describe as “inappropriate name calling”).

With that, I look forward to reading your rebuttal.

Sincerely,
Deals