By the time this hits the newsstands, I will have hopefully gone camping. For those who have been with me since the late seventies, you may recall that I used to camp non-stop but have not gone in some time.
I think the last time we left off with the whole sleeping outdoors scenario, I had been camping in Edna (my van) in my OWN driveway. This would have been for most of the spring, summer and fall of 2014, if memory serves. Funny thing about that memory serving is I can recall something like that with some detail but cannot recall what this column is supposed to be about. Hmm.
In the midst of the madness of prepping for the outdoor trip (I can't think of a word to replace “camping” but am giving it a try), my whole family arrived. As I type this column with no theme, my sister, brother, son and Mother are next door “hanging.”
You may have noticed a change in the overall atmosphere because when all of the Housermans get together the balance of the town, county, area and state is thrown off wildly.
Pumpkin, known in real life as Jill, generally comes to visit for her own personal celebration known as the Pumpkin Fest, on an annual basis. Blainey (brother) decided to surprise the family and casually arrived on Tuesday, which would have been yesterday, at this point.
Of course he told me of his plans and swore me to secrecy. I made a video about it right away. I'm JOKING. You know, believe it or not, I can and DO keep things to myself if they are about another person and his/her particular crisis, visit, fill in the blank.
This is also true in terms of “off the record” statements made by some in casual conversations, etc. My life might be an open book but I do respect the privacy of others, even when I think they are being overly paranoid—which WASN'T the case with Blaine, don't get me wrong.
It cracks me up and frustrates me at the same time, when certain friends of mine think that the world is DYING to know all about them. They are convinced that So and So is being snoopy or that the whole town is just needing to know their business.
This kind of thing drives me to drink because, although this is a gossipy area as all small towns are, I don't think people are dedicating their lives to bloviating about Person X and his/her life. Another thing that leads me to scale tall buildings is when I'm talking to a friend—a real life friend and not a Facebook one—and he/she says, “this is off the record.”
What? Like I would print a conversation about spousal problems or whatever, in the paper? People get odd ideas about reporters, which was covered at some length in the last column so I won't bother hashing up that mess again.
WOW I am getting in touch with some emotions here, aren't I? As I said, this column isn't really about one thing in particular but is a rambling piece about what is happening as of late around the Houserman Compound.
You win a prize if you can guess where Mother decided we should have dinner last night.
OK, time is up and the answer is Greenville! For those new to this insanity, Mother LIVES for the Gallery Grille located for your convenience in Greenville. It was formerly known as the Greenville Country Club but has been opened to the public for a long time now. She will use any excuse to whisk us away to Greenville.
In fact, the first thing that she said when Brother Blaine entered her home bearing donuts was, “I think I'd better change the reservation for dinner tonight.” I exaggerate just a touch but it wasn't more than five minutes after his surprise arrival that she uttered those words—seriously. I actually wore a dress last night which was a shock to society at large and small. Pumpkin offered to loan me some earrings that matched which I gently, yet effectively, declined.
Moving along to something—ANYTHING—at this time. Siblings do come in handy for life crises (note the proper plural usage for crisis—my brother is a stickler for this particular plural version) like when I awakened today to broken glasses or when I need someone to take a picture of a new business in town or when I need an errand run for camping prep and/or another scenario.
This all happened today when I arose to find that the other “arm” of my eyeglasses decided to casually fall off in the night. The original broken arm has been duct taped for some time now and I care not. However, I must use these for driving purposes and cannot do so when they are lounging in disrepair on the shelf above the sink.
Blaine leaped into action right away and took them to be mended. In the process he also gathered some goods for the journey to the outdoor lodging situation this weekend. (I am really trying for different words to describe this but am not doing super well with it.)
I can't leave out Pumpkin in this column as she will burst into tears and hide in the guest room at Mother's. I shall now say something delightful about her. Hmm, nothing is coming to mind. I'm just KIDDING Pumpkin—simmer down. Jill/Pumpkin is always helpful to me when need be like the one year when I couldn't cover the parade and she and Blaine took over together to get pictures for me.
When I lived in Houston she had to bail me out several times—not from jail—you silly goose, I mean in terms of not having enough money for this or that. I do appreciate the woman and maybe don't say it enough. (How was that Pumpkin?)
Speaking of camping, which I think I did earlier in this piece, Blaine is the only other person in this dysfunctional clan who has ever had an interest in doing so. My father didn't care for such goings on and Mother—can you imagine that at all? Mother and Pumpkin are a LOT alike so going to a shoe store or applying make-up far outweigh the merits of sleeping under the stars.
Spencer (The Child) was in the scouts and had his fill of the whole getting in touch with nature thing at that time—although he did sleep in a rental car in Alaska a few months ago, now that I ponder. That sounds more terrible than it was. They went to see the Northern Lights (should this be capitalized?) and ended up more or less camping in the vehicle that they rented for that specific occasion. Spencer is a “happy camper,” he just isn't super fond of the whole hobby these days. He might ruin a wingtip shoe or soil a fancy suit whilst stoking the fire.
Now that I ponder, Spencer and Jill take after Mother and Blainey and I favor my father. Although he didn't sleep out in tents, he still enjoyed the whole outdoor experience by riding his bike to and fro whilst donning the now infamous safari hat, Bermuda shorts, “tall” black socks and other goofy attire. (Now does this seem like the case in terms of my taking after him?)
I can't really think of anything else with which to bore you at this time. After all, Blaine just arrived yesterday so give us time to have fist-fights and other things associated with family reunions. The next column just might be filled to the rim with drama but when isn't it really?
THE END (Interstate Crosscheck, AIPAC Lobby, War is a Racket by General Smedley Butler, “Frankenskies” FREE documentary on YouTube)