Eine 'tite histoire

On était au lit, tous nousaut'--moi, le Chenu et le Mistigris. Moi, j'étais après me sentir réellement foutaise, so je m'avais couché joliment de bonne heure. Le chat était élongi ent' nousaut' deux et il était après dormailler.

J'ai attendu quéque affaire qu'a sonné pareil comme ein coup de tonnarre et j'ai d'mandé monshu si ça était après expecter ein ouragan. La réponse a v'nu comme ein grand roulement. Tout d'eine éscousse il était tout réveillé, nôt' minou, tout deboute au milieu du lit. J'ai assayer de lui dire que c'était pas rien qu'ein gros traîn, main il se lassait pas calmer.

Je m'ai levé pour m'allégir et quand je m'a viré de bord encore, il avait foutu le camp. J'ai gardé dans la closette main je l'ai vu pas. J'étais parti en haut pour aller chercher d'la médecine et quand j'ai r'venu, c'était tout fini, l'ouragan. Aussitôt que j'ai v'nu de rentrer dans le cham', Ti-Gris a sorti d'la closette comme si rien avait arrivé. Je me fais aucune idée éyoù il était après se coucher.

The Crazy Report: Spring 2011 Edition

• Mom: worryingly crazy. Part of the reason for coming down when I did was to give some impetus to her efforts to get back on track, but we hardly spent any time together from the time she picked me from the airport and we fixed dinner together. My sister had me booked on Friday and then Dad was taking for two days, but we'd arranged that I'd stay with her Sunday night. But at the eleventh hour--literally--she confessed that her condo was in no fit state for company and asked if I could stay with my sister again. We were supposed to meet at a family funeral the next morning, but she never showed; I called her at Communion and she told me she was awake but just "couldn't get moving". We arranged to meet at the house afterward and have her drive me to the airport, but by noon I was making fallback plans. She finally did show and was apologetic in the car, but the whole thing had me a little concerned, even though my sister assured me this is how it's been for a while.
• Older Brother: increasingly crazy. I'd only been there a few hours when he admittedly openly to my mother that he was taking about two-thirds the dosage of his anti-psychotic as proscribed by his doctor. "So I guess you're not interested in coming to Chicago," I said, since it's agreed we won't even talk about a visit until he's in full compliance. He shrugged and said, "I guess not." So that's it, we've lost our last leverage with him. On Sunday, he dropped an f-bomb in front of the rugrats--a surprising lapse in judgment for him--so I pulled him to the other room, which gave my sister the opportunity she'd been looking for to ask him if he was once again shtupping the con-artist who'd attached herself to him a couple years ago. Sadly, yes. "We use condoms," he said, so we tried to impress upon him their fallibility, especially now that she's on antibiotics so the pill isn't an option. All in all, very dispiriting.
• Dad: not so crazy. His wife came by on Monday and gave me her sob story about how he ruined her birthday by withdrawing and dropping the ball. She wanted to know what he'd been like on our trip together and I honestly told her as good as gold. A little huffy-puffy on the steeper slopes, but sound overall, keeping his cool even when we got lost in the dark a couple times. (Sure is easier to direct him when I'm in the actual car with him.) The only real point of concern were the diverging stories they gave us about her upcoming surgery; some better communication needs to happen there.
• Sis: Trying her best not to go crazy. So besides our crazy mother and crazy brother, she's got her four sons, two of whom have spring allergies so bad she runs the aircon and makes them wash their hands after being outside. IMI is her biggest trial; less tantrumy than last I saw him, but his resistance to toilet training has just about broken her. Despite being two, the littlest one only causes a fuss when he can't go play outside (but what a fuss!) and the two oldest are pretty self-sufficient these days.

Ozark Diary: Day One

We got a later start than we wanted because Mom needed my sister to do some shopping and the only time they could fit it in was mid-afternoon. The time wasn't wasted--Dad and I spent it mostly out in the sunshine watching OGI pretend to be driving Dad's truck. A Chinese girl road by on her bike as her father weeded a lawn two doors up. By the time we hit the road, the bad weather predicted was moving in. Dad wasn't concerned: he figured the front would blow through pretty quickly and then all we'd have to face was a little drizzle.

Having learned his lesson from our last trip together, he had a sheaf of printed maps for me. He even offered a choice of routes. I spent far too much time on I-70 in my youth and remembered it as a built-up yawn, so I plumped for the southern route. Besides, that gave us a chance to stop in at Powder Valley so I could buy my father the Missouri Conservation Department titles I'd promised to get him for Christmas. We hadn't even reached the Meremac before I began to see the large stands of flowering dogwoods I'd been yearning for all this time. With almost perfect timing, we made it to Powder Valley right as the thunderstorms hit and with plenty of time to browse the bookstore before they closed. They'd added more exhibits even since my father's last visit, so we took a whirlwind tour before heading out again.

At this point, the road leaves the hills (and the dramatic highway cuts they necessitate) for a bit and follows the course of the river for a while. There are at least two dozen parks and conservation areas scattered about, several of them running right up to the highway, so even though you drive past Six Flags there's still plenty of pretty scenery.

Around the time we hit St James, we were peckish enough to begin looking for places to eat. My eyes were caught by a billboard announcing "COOKIN FROM STRATCH: Try our pan-fried chicken!" But we didn't see another sign for it before Rolla, so we turned off there to look for something to eat and ended up having a pretty terrible meal at Lee's Chicken because there was no parking at the local steakhouse and the Knights of Columbus fish fry across the street held no allure for me, since the conviction that catfish should not be eaten by humans is one of the few points of commonality between me and Orthodox Jewry when it comes to proscribed foods. Naturally, we were no sooner back on the road when I spotted Cooking From Scratch at the next exit.

We had a choice of turn-offs, too, but we'd missed the first one, so we headed on to Waynesville only to find the exit closed. Fortunately, there were detour signs so we managed to make it off in time and find the state route we needed with a minimum of casting about. But the overcast skies meant that night was coming on earlier than we'd hoped and we resigned ourselves to making it to the campsite in the dark. Our cabin was in Lake of the Ozarks State Park, which is the largest in the entire Missouri system. We discovered what this meant when, half an hour after driving through the entrance, we still hadn't reached the campsite. It would've helped immensely if someone had told me its proper name was "The Outpost" but we managed to make only one catastrophic wrong turn. The drive was atmospheric, ghostly clouds of mist rising above the road only to vanish as we drove through them. From time to time, we would pass an area of standing water and hear the croaking of bullfrogs.

By the time we reached the end of the road, it was after 8 o'clock. The drizzle had gotten heavier, and as Dad worked at lighting a fire with only kindling and no paper, I loaded up the gear into a cart provided to negotiate the last forty yards or so to the cabin door. One thing that was not among it was bath towels, and driving into town to buy more at this point was not in the cards. But Dad soon had a roaring fire going and eventually we had water hot enough to steep tea in. Dad had brought a battery-powered radio and he switched it on, inviting me to find a music station. "Probably won't find anything but country around here." Actually I found anything but--the station that came in best was blasting Zeppelin. Eventually, I found a surprisingly listenable indie station which I assumed was broadcasting from Rolla but turned out to be in KC.

We were both tired and knew we'd want an early start the next day, but neither of us wanted to be the first to put and end to the conversation and discover if the foam mattresses in the loft were able to offer a decent night's sleep. It must've been eleven or so when we finally turned in.