Way back in the begining of December, Michele and I went to a Hibachi steakhouse for Wah-Kee's birthday. It was pretty cool; I'd never been to one of those before. The best part was one the chef cut up a bunch of onion slices and stacked them on top of each other to make a little ant-hill-looking thing, and then he squirted some stuff from a bottle into it an lit it on freaking FIRE! Boom! Onion volcano!
The people that had had been to a hibachi before said this guy wasn't as good as some of the others they've seen. Aparently, the best hibachi chefs are more than a little insane. But I was still impressed. I think it's safe to say that onion volcanoes are the coolest thing since Sterno. And that's saying something, considering Nick got me a case of the stuff for Christmas one year. It was after we'd gone to a Chinese food place and the pupu platter had this crazy purple flame under it. I was enthralled. "I will never get tired of this."
And I never have.
Anyway, the whole experience was typical blog fodder, but I never got around to writting it, or much else, for quite a while. See, at the time, we were living in my grandmother's house, all cramped up together in the guest room. Brianna slept on the floor next to the bed, which was, well...awkward.
I spent most of my weekends and free time cleaning out her basement; throwing out junk, reorganinzing things, getting rid of all the cobwebs. She has four big rooms down there, so I thought we could at least put some of our stuff down there. Every once in a while she'd hobble down the stairs (even though she's not supposed to because she could hurt herself) and say "Are you still down here?"
For about three straight weekends I worked down there, and it looked pretty good. We had about six boxes of canned food left over from the apartment that had been sitting down there, and once I'd cleaned the room they were in, I decided it was time to bring them up to the kitchen. So I carried a few handfuls at a time up the stairs and put everything into the proper drawers and cabinets. I was just about done when I heard my mom screaming at me from upstairs.
"John! You and Michele take your things right now! You're moving back next door!!"
Wha?
While I was downstairs, my mom and 'Olly got in this HUGE fight. My mom had come over to take 'Olly to the store ot buy a new TV, because my uncle said he'd get her one but he never did. In fact, he did get her a TV, but since it was so close to Christmas, he was waiting until then to give it to her. Anyway, my mom, Ryan and 'Olly were in the car, and I don't know what exactly was said, but 'Olly started talking about us, how the guest room had clothes all over it. There are three bureaus in that room, and they're all filled with her clothes. The closet is filled with her clothes. The little table and closet in the TV room are filled with her clothes. Or to be more accurate, filled with jackets that her friend Mable brought over to her one time. Lord knows why. She probably just wanted to get rid of them. The point is, every available storage space in the "guest" room was full, and there was no place for our clothes. We had clothes in garbage bags, piled up on top of a dresser. We had to bring an old dresser from my mom's house into the basement to keep our clothes in there. I guess she brough that up in the car, too. She said "That's no way to live." Are you kidding me?
My mom reminded her that the whole reason we were there was to help her after her accident. She went over the whole story all over again, to which 'Olly responded "I never said that. You're crazy."
She turned to Ryan and asked if he remembered it. He said he did, then walked out of the car. He came back and told me and Michele what was happening. It was quite a while ago now, so I might have missed a few details, and some things I know she said I just don't want to write. But my mom told her to get out of her car, and when she didn't, she dropped her off at Mable's house and left her there. It was...surreal.
So we spent most of that Sunday packing up all our stuff (including the six boxes of food that I had just finished putting away) and bringing it down the hill to my parents' house. And all this just before Christmas. I still get that weird feeling in my stomach just thinking about that day.
My mom and her mother barely talk now, and I haven't seen or spoken to 'Olly since that day, not even on Christmas or New Year's. She said some really horrible things that I just can't ever imagine her saying, but I'm not mad at her. I know it's just her mind, but I can't go over there again. I absolutely do not want her talking to Michele or Brianna. I just can't deal with it anymore.
So it's been a little rough the past few weeks, kids. Since I'd spent all that time cleaning 'Olly's basement for nothing (although you could just say it was a nice thing to do) I started from scratch and started on my parents'. I had the week after Christmas off, so I spent it cleaning up down there and putting together some cheap-ass Wal-Mart furniture. There's still clutter all over the house that just doesn't have a place yet, but we've got a nice little setup downstairs, with a TV, DVD player, a leather chair I got from work, and an air matress that I have to pump up every night. Brianna sleeps on the couch upstairs. It's nice to have a little privacy, but there's not much heat down there and it tends to flood in the Spring. We had a bit of water come in last week, but it wasn't too bad.
On the bright side, look what we got Saturday!
And now, I'd just like to ask for a moment of silence for Michele's old car, who fell ill back in October of heating coil failure and sat idly in my grandmothers' driveway, where it apparently served as a toliet for mice and other rodents for several months. After getting a flat tire changed and having all the poop cleaned out of the glove compartment, it did survive long enough to drive over to the Hundai dealership in Quincy. When we pulled in, there was smoke pouring out of dashboard and hood. Everyone at the dealership came out and just stared at the car. It's in a better place now.
1995-2006
15 comments:
Did the dealer tell you Michele’s car was going to a car farm, where it can run and play with all the other cars? Maybe it will sire a little Cooper Mini with a taped-up door, just like its dad.
I like your attitude about your grandmother. No use being angry or bitter.
What can you do? Old people are crazy. Every day, there is at least one time when I have to restrain myself from kinking my grandfather's oxygen hose.
And hooray for the new car. At least her old car is at peace now. It had suffered enough.
"Everyone at the dealership came out and just stared at the car."
I think you forgot to mention "stared and laughed. A lot."
Yes, that day completely sucked for all involved. It's strange how you wound up thinking about it the same day I did.
At least we all got cleaned basements out of it. It DOES look nice down there - now that we've gotten the bats out of the chimney. If we can just stop the leaks...
Sounds like you've always got a backup career as a basement cleaner should the need arise...
I forgot to mention that when the car was steaming, it smelled like maple syrup. I don't know why.
That would probably be the leaking antifreeze. You didn't lick the windshield, did you?
It tasted like schnozberries.
A shiny "arrest me red" car. Nice. ;)
Yeah, well red was not my first or second choice. But they didn't have the color I wanted with the features I wanted. The only feature I really insisted on was anti-lock brakes. But that feature for some reason is only available as part of the "premium" package in the Elantras.
The upside is that I have an automatic sunroof, power windows, doors, locks, keyless entry, TCS traction control system, in addition the the ABS.
When I test drove it, it was raining hard, and I really thought it was maroon. I was thinking maroon is not so bad....I think the red is growing on me.
They have a push, pull or drag promotion at one of our local dealership. My car was barely running when I took it in ('89 Taurus), and I expected all to be paralyzed by fits of laughter. But instead they took it, pretended to give me 4,000 for it (ha!) and promptly sold it to someone on the reservation. How did I recognize it? The witty bumper stickers, of course! That, and the black smoke.
If there's a color that's "unsafe" for a car then why don't the manufacturers just stop making it?
You don't want to attract "Those We Don't Speak Of".
Bah... hot girls always drive red cars. It's a rule...
You'll fit right in JG.
"Bah... hot girls always drive red cars. It's a rule...
You'll fit right in JG."
Aren't you sweet.
"what was that stuff on the ceiling?"
Those tears on the ceiling of my car were always there back when I bought it. This is the first car I've bought that wasn't used. :)
If there's a color that's "unsafe" for a car then why don't the manufacturers just stop making it?
That is like asking, if the speed limit is only 65 why do they make cars that can go 130 mph? ;)
So, when is the first road trip? :D
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