If I were still a country mouse

Now I know why I was so bored growing up around here.  It’s not that there’s nothing to do, it’s that no one cares to do anything.  I had this strange urge all weekend to go running.  Not that I can run, not that it would have lasted more than a minute had I tried, but I just start feeling so trapped when I’m there.  I drank practically the entire two days, carol anns in the morning coffee, a couple of beers with lunch, this new chi cream liquer in the afternoon tea (it’s called Voyant, and it’s very, very good!) then some rum and coke with dinner, oh, and some jello shots, and more beer… Yet there was only one night I was really buzzed.  The rest of the time, I was just numb.  Heh.  Pathetically fitting for such a place. 

Sitting around watching tv is considered "quality time" when it comes to my dad.  I guess at least I didn’t have to talk to him very much.  I’d kind of like to actually, but at the same time, I always worry that I’ll say too much about all the things that mom and I do together, and I try to avoid talking about her to him as much as possible.  I suppose it’s just better that nothing much gets said.  He didn’t lose his temper at all, and he even put a hitch thing on my truck for me.  (Since mom got this cool bike thing to put on the back of my truck, but it needs to go into a hitch thing to fit into, so dad slapped one on.  I couldn’t tow anything with it, but it’s not like I want to anway.  As long as it carries my bike, I’m happy! Oh, did I mention that the trees fell on my bike?  And that I’m getting $150 for my bike? Which is pretty dope considering I got the bike at salvation army for like $15)

I should have gone and visited the rest of my family.  Maybe gone for a walk, or anything that wouldn’t have made me feel like such a lump.  I guess at least it’s better now that I’m staying with Trina.  When I used to stay with dad I’d pretty much eat the entire time, and feel really depressed.  I’m not sure what I’d do if I lived there still.  I’d either be a really fat drunk, or I’d start running.  And grow a garden, and sew a bunch of quilts, and scrapbook all the time.  Yeah, maybe I’d turn out all right if I had to be there.  I’m still glad that I don’t though.   Actually, right now, I want to be in Seattle so very badly.  I want to spend an entire day in a museum, or going through art galleries.  I want my venti white chocolate mocha from starbucks, and I want wine with my dinner.  Such a city mouse.

I all most feel bad about wanting those things.  I know the kind of things my father would say if I were to tell him that I want to be in Seattle.  To shun this small town is to shun the man that’s lived there his entire life.  That’s how he feels about it, he’d never say it that way, but that’s it.  To him, there’s no two ways about it.  It wouldn’t make sense to him that I would love to go camping, fishing, and hiking, but still want to spend a day in a museum.  I can love both.  I don’t have to pick a side.  The fact that I have such wildy vast tastes is one of the qualities I love most about me.