James brought my site back.

It is well worth visiting his site, for he is in a tragic position and still found time to help me.

It seems that we shall never go to Alabama again. This has been a great shock to the children and I.

No more days at Smith Lake, no more Uncle Jimmy and Aunt Patsy.

My father is selling his home and plans to move to Texas, of all places ( Re: Bush), to a, oh, retirement community for military officers.

He has sent me a bunch of things from the old homestead, which I still have not seen- time, you know.

He sold all of his gold jewelry, including the I.D. bracelet he promised to The Boy.

Speaking of The Boy, he did not receive a birthday card this year from his Grandpa, nor was a deposit made in our joint account. I gave The Boy 50 Euro and said that it was from Grandpa and Grandma.

I have no idea what is going on with him, but I do know this : never again shall we share the same house during the sultry months of summer in Alabama.

I have always been able to go home again, contrary to popular belief. And now, that is over.

The children and I all wish that we had known that last year was our last time there, so that we could have said goodbye to all of the things that we came to love about Alabama, the rolling hills, the kindly people, making puzzles together while Grandpa napped.

I suspect that I am on Grandpa’s shit list.

Do I care ?

Not one bit. He did not send my boy a birthday card. Small minded, I know, but such am I.

Today The Girl plopped onto the, uh, divan ?, fainting couch ?, in my little room of my own. The couch, by the way, is covered with a large paisley shawl.

She was simply aglow, for a boy- let’s call him John- has asked her out for ( out on ?) a date, to McDonald’s ( you have to start somewhere, I suppose).

I then had to don my wise mummy hat and ask her to think about her motives for accepting this date, for Jimmy Dean loathes John and deep in her heart, The Girl still loves Jimmy Dean. After all, every teenage girl loves The Bad Boy. I suggested that she not use John or hurt him in any way, and to be very honest with him.

How I do go on.

Mountains out of mole hills.

After all, we are simply talking about eating hamburgers together, are we not ?

It is hard to believe that is was in January that Jimmy Dean gave The Girl an ultimatum : stop seeing your best friend or it is over.

The Girl chose her best friend.

Now Jimmy Dean and Best Friend are a couple and, basically scaring the shit out of The Girl. When The Girl bikes to school, Jimmy Dean tries to nudge her off of her bike with his scooter. When she walks Elvis, if they are around, they threaten her.

She is one over emotional and scared girl.

At the moment, she is on *sick leave* from her school. Her grades are so high that it does not matter if she misses the rest of the school year, but we must find her another school.

The is a Dutch saying, small children, small problems, big children, big problems.

But she is doing much better now that she has just been at home.

How bad were things with her ? In a few weeks we have arranged for her to see a counselor, to help her deal with her life.

Such, then, is life.

Today The Baby received an invitation to a birthday party, from one of her friends that, oh,why don’t we just call the friend Annie ?

As good as any other name, I suppose.

A few weeks ago, we were all watching an educational show on TV and The Baby said, why, that is Annie’s father. The Father hardy-hared for a while, wondering why a man like that ( read : V.I.P) would suddenly turn up in our town. To tell the truth, I have spoken with Annie’s Dad, and I rather agreed with The Baby : that was indeed Annie’s Dad. Same name, same face….

Last Sunday was The Baby’s First Communion. Sitting right behind us, were Annie, her Father and her Mother.

At a certain moment, Annie’s Dad was within The Father’s view, I pointed him out to The Father and, jeepers creepers, he said, that is Mr. V.I.P.

Of course, the party is on the very same day that The Father takes off for India, but The Girl, The Boy and I can handle this to and fro business.

Piece of cake.

But whispering in the air about Casa Kitchen is the word networking.

Eh, I just wonder what to buy Annie for her birthday.