A post in which I let my dad hold it*

I woke up to t a beautiful day, but decided I didn’t feel like going to the flea market this morning. I needed to go, but I just didn’t feel like it. I had some breakfast, and then realized I had been taking my medicine almost completely incorrectly.

I wandered around online, and had a buddy come by (so much for being Off Men). After he left I took a nap. When I woke up it was afternoon. I really did need to do something productive. I hadn’t cleaned any last weekend because I felt so badly, and the place was looking distinctly shabby. I drifted towards the couch, where I looked for a FarmVille update.

I then gave myself a firm talking to, and arose from the couch to get something done.

I ate lunch, then started on some overdue cleaning out. I had to go out to do some shopping, but before I went I was going to load the car and get some stuff out of the house – a perpetual need.

I unpacked the new china I had ordered last week and put it away in the cabinet hole left from sending the Blue Willow to Lisa two weeks ago. That was quite a process. I thought packaging was bad when people send glass through the mail, but that is nothing to when they send china. One box that had four cups and saucers in it had to be 18 inches square, with two boxes, two layers of styrofoam popcorn and newspaper, and then a wrapping of paper and bubble wrap just to make sure. I mean, I’m glad everything got here OK, but it was quite a production freeing my new purchases from their wrappings.

That done, I took the styrofoam peanuts out along with the garbage. I smoothed and folded the packing paper I was keeping (a glass collector can always find a use for un-printed newspaper), and gathered up the rest to be recycled. I got together the Goodwill load (of course there was another one).

Then I loaded the car, hauled off all the (considerable) recycling, dropped the Goodwill load off, and headed for the flea market. By this time it was about four, but in pretty weather I know the vegetable sellers stay late. I was in luck, and they were still there. I got what vegetables I could at a discount, and then went on to the grocery store for a few other odds and ends.

While I was checking out at the store, the phone rang. It was Dad. He said he was calling to ask if I had spoken to Cindy last week as I had told him I would. I indicated that I had, and that I thought Cindy was mulling over calling. He then started to do the typical “I hate Cindy and Paul” routine I have been listening to for the last three years, laced liberally with a victory lap for him because he had known they wouldn’t call, etc. There was a generous dollop of the typical distain, disgust, and general calling down of the heavens upon them. During the flow of this seemingly endless invective, he told me the reason for the worry about Eve. Of course I was sworn to secrecy because “If Cindy didn’t care enough to call about her mother without needing a reason, she wasn’t fit to live.” He said something about how he “hated to put me in the middle of this”.

That was too much - the last straw. I felt as if he had set up an unfair test for Cindy, and was crowing because she had failed again. When he paused to draw breath, I started in. We pretty much went at it hammer and tongs. I told him that they had paid back the money he asked for when he send the demand letter from the attorney, and he needed to lay that down. I said a lot of things I’ve been swallowing for three years. I told him that their word didn’t hold much weight with Cindy and Paul because of the constant dramatization and tricks he and Eve had employed the last couple of years; that we were in a bit of a “little boy who cried wolf” situation because of it. I told him that I didn’t think he was in a position to sit in judgment of anyone, and asked him if that is what he has been learning at church. I told him I was sick to death of them all acting like twelve year olds and using me as the go-between. He had told me that he was worried about Eve, and that he loved her. He gave the usual “I would do anything but” speech, with the but this time being he would never “kiss Paul’s ass”. I said “Great Dad. So you’ll do anything to help her but lay down your pride. Good call.” I then hung up the phone. I was DONE.

Sadly, this is not the first time that something far more important has taken a back seat to my father's pride. We've all had our experiences at doing it through the years. My father nurses a grudge like a napless baby with a sweet. He's just always been that way. Eve is the same way. It's an area of common ground for them.

And of course I felt terrible. Unlike Dad, who seems to thrive and come alive in his rage, ceaselessly banking a fire that only seems to get more boundless and bountiful, mine burns out and leaves me feeling like shit. There is no win with him. If you try the gentle approach he runs right over you. He has consistently done everything I have tried to intimate was a really bad idea from the beginning of this. If you get angry, he just gets angry back. He was born right and has been going uphill ever since. My dad would no sooner cede a point in battle than he would beat himself in the head with a hammer. And I had acted just like him.

I called Mom for a pep talk, but she didn’t answer her phone. I decided that was a selfish reason to call her anyway.

I decided to plow my frustration into cooking, and started chopping vegetables. Mom called me back while I was doing that. I apologized, and asked her if I was as big an asshole as my father. She assured me that I was not. But of course she’s my Mom, and she thinks I’m wonderful whatever I do, so I didn’t choose the most objective person to ask. After we got that out of the way, we just talked about normal stuff for a while.

I got my sauce on to simmer, but still felt bad. I sat down and tried to figure out the least Dad-like thing I could do, so I called Dad to apologize for losing my temper. I didn’t back down from the things I said, but I apologized for the way I said them. Dad, surprisingly, was magnanimous in triumph. He actually apologized back. Now I know he would have eaten nails before he picked up the phone to call me to do that, but for him it was a big change to even inkle a bit of wrong-doing on his part. Will miracles never cease. I did feel better after talking to him.

I finished up my spaghetti and packed lunches for next week, and changed out a load of laundry.

I called Billy to find out what they were up to tonight, but they were on their way back from Asheville. They had spent the day going to Asheville to take the hot springs and then were going to stop for supper on the way back.

By this time, I was pretty wiped anyway. I would have liked to spend some time with them to decompress after the dad stuff. I thought about calling Miss Kat and dana, but decided not to bother them - it was getting a bit too late to call. I started feeling cold and realized I was running a low-grade fever yet again. I ate some supper and took my pills, and just fooled around online for a while. Eventually, I fixed the bed, took a shower, and turned in. I sleep better clean, and felt like I needed a bit of pampering after a long, long day.