---

I don't know what it is about yoga that makes my problems seem so silly. All day yesterday I was stewing over the issues with my dad and that dumbass phone call, and then I went to yoga after work. Now, I dislocated my knee Friday night on my way out of class (a regular occurance, so it's not a huge deal -- it popped right back in) so I wasn't sure how it would go.

I practically ran over to the studio to make sure I got a spot in front of the mirror (I can't stand it when some ass stands right in front of me - when did common courtesy die?) and the heat felt wonderful. Considering that I hate it so much in Philadelphia in the Summer because of the heat and humidity, who knew I'd ever love a sport done in a 105 degree studio? I changed, came back out to the studio and had 15 minutes of uninterrupted corpse pose time.

The class was fabulous....it wasn't one of those classes where the heat is dry and you feel totally refreshed afterwards, but I seemed to sweat out my hostility....and that can't be a bad thing. My knee held up until we got to 2 poses toward the end of class where there is direct knee pressure....Joel gave me some alternatives and that was that. At least I didn't dislocate it again on my way out!

Angel was on last night....it was a fairly boring episode until the end. It's not like I didn't know what was happening -- I read the Wildfeed yesterday morning. I also read the Wildfeed for Buffy....it looks like they're skipping an episode and going right to the good one where Buffy and Tara get shot. How sick and sad is this that I'm all pumped up over two TV shows? Considering that those are the only two shows that are a must see, I don't feel so bad.

School starts in about 3 weeks and I'm really looking forward to getting back into academia. I'm really not going to have a tremendous amount of time for art of any kind but I'm going to make a concerted effort. I want to start work on an altered book that will directly relate to my paternal issues -- I'm going to be on the lookout for a book that will work beginning today. I have some good ideas and I think it will translate well to the page. With luck maybe I will have it done in June sometime.

I have no desire to be at work today -- I'm feeling kind of pre-sickly. I woke up with a sore throat which I thought would go away after I drank something but it hasn't. I hope whatever it is that it goes away by Friday....that reminds me, I have to make reservations for Saturday night at Il Canituccio. I honestly don't know why I'm wasting Il Canituccio on mom and Ed -- their idea of good food is the Cracker Barrel. I told mom we were going to a nice italian restaurant and she asked me if they had other food too -- and I knew where she was going...I said "No, ma - it's italian food but not all italian food has tomato sauce in it or on it." She was shocked and surprised.......I think I must be adopted.

I am put to mind of the time when she came down for Mothers Day and I took her and Grammy D to Astral Plane for brunch. They both ordered a sechuan stir fry when neither on of them likes anything spicy....and they were both completely freaked out by the fact that our server wasn't wearing a uniform and that he may have been (said with a hushed voice) gay, and also by the fact that the restaurant was, in their view, weird because nothing matched. And then my mom insisted on leaving the tip and tried to leave a $5 tip on a $70 bill. And that is why Craig and I are picking up the tab and the tip on Saturday night.

---

So my father called last night, drunk as usual. If I would have asked, I'm sure he would have owned up to a few drinks but would have denied that he was drunk -- but his speech was slurred and he was in his "I'm the best dad ever" mood.

He called under the pretext of finding out how my trip to Seattle was, but he wasn't interested in the slightest. I tried telling him about it and telling him about what Craig and I did this weekend but I'd get one sentence out and then he'd completely change the subject or spout out some totally nonsequitur fact. He finally got around to telling me that Crystal is having seizures and recently got arrested with two of her friends for breaking into a locker at school.

And then he got to the real root of why he called -- he wanted to bitch about the fact that none of his children find his fatherly ministrations useful. He complained that the only time he ever heard about any of us is when we had done something bad, and then brought up some imagined episode from when I supposedly stayed out until 4am with Scott when we were in high school. That would never have happened for several different reasons, but he insisted that it happened and that he had to "give me a talking to". Yep, because my father's paternal advice always meant so much!

At any rate, he seems to have a completely different version of his role as a father than anyone else....he actually said that he was always willing to be around. I'm thinking, uh, when was this? It certainly wasn't when my mom had to work 3 jobs to support us, or when my grandparents had to watch us because my mom couldn't afford a babysitter. It wasn't when I had to drop out of college because I couldn't afford the tuition on my own.

The attempted guilt trip wasn't the most bizarre part of the conversation though. Somehow school was mentioned. I think he may have asked me what classes I was taking this summer. So I told him and then he asked when I might expect to have a degree. I told him something about "if I quit working and went to school full time I'd be done in 2 semesters" but that it would never happen because we can't afford for me to stop working full time. He immediately perks up -- and offers me and Craig a room in his house. It was all I could do to keep from laughing hysterically. I said "I don't want to move in with you. I'm 30 and I'm married - I'm certainly not going to be moving in with my dad." He got all offended! It was one thing to move in with him for a summer when I was 19....it's another to move in with your parent when you're a married adult. And that summer I lived with him and Sharon was a nightmare.

I think he must get the 3 kids confused. I'm not sure how Crystal feels about him...I mean, she lived with him for longer than the rest of us did and he at least made some effort to be fatherly for most of her life. I don't remember him living with us at all, except for that year on 4th Street. I don't have ANY good memories of him at all.

My earliest memory of my father is backing my mother into a corner of our house, screaming at her, and then slapping her a few times. I had no idea what that was about, but I found out many years later it was because my mom flushed his drugs down the toilet. And I remember him forgetting my birthday and Christmas almost every year. And then I remember being forced to visit him at his house in the summer for a week for a few years when he decided it was time for him to be fatherly for a while....I want to say that it was between the ages of 9-12. And the last summer I consented to go to his house I remember him making me do his laundry and bake some sort of a boxed dessert, despite the fact that I had never done laundry or cooked something in my entire life. He told me to ask the next door neighbor. So I did his laundry wrong and burned the dessert....and then he screamed at me so badly that I hyperventilated. And then I remember him coming to my high school graduation wearing dirty jeans and a ripped tshirt.

It's a minor miracle that I was able to grow up into a functioning adult. It's not to say that I don't have issues that can be directly attributed to my father's antics. I mean, I'm completely suspicious about marriage and I'm panicked about the idea of having children and I seem to be incapable of handling other people's anger well.

Anyway, the whole call ended with my father inviting us to a barbecue at his house, not a specific date, just an open invitation. I was noncommital.

It basically ruined my night and I couldn't sleep. And now today I'm left to ruminate over the details of it. The thing is that I don't hate my father -- I just feel sorry for him because he's lost his grip on the reality of the situation, and I'm annoyed at him because he's, well, annoying. I don't have any love for him. People say all that time that you have to love your family, but I don't. He is just a casual acquaintance to me that tries (and fails) to act like a parent when the mood strikes him.

I have fantasies that Craig and I move across the country and neglect to hand out the new phone number and address to him.

This has to stop....and I have to stop dwelling on it. Sometimes I feel like I'm a bad person because I can't cut him any slack for fucking up my childhood....but I think I'm justified.

On a lighter note, I had a nice weekend. Craig and I cleaned the house for most of the weekend because my mom and Ed are planning to visit this coming weekend. I hate to clean so it wasn't a great time but I do like it when the house is clean so the end result was worth the effort. Craig finally installed the bedroom shelves and we got rid of the bedroom dressers. I'm sad to see them go because I've had that furniture since I was about 4 or 5 years old, but it was really just crap and I was happy to get rid of them. The bedroom is much bigger now and looks nice. We went to Target and I took Craig out for lunch at Red Lobster....I hate chain restaurants but the lunch wasn't too bad. Sunday we went to see the latest Friday the 13th movie...Jason X. It was totally silly but highly entertaining for what it was....I was happy to have seen it. I didn't get any art work done, but I did manage to list a bunch of my journals on Ebay....with a little bit of luck someone will buy a bunch of them.

---

I've been out to lunch 3 times this week - once to Peacock with Christy and Dave; once to Joseph's with the work gang; and today to Sopukathai with the work gang. I can't seem to get a decent slice of dessert. Joseph's was, by the far, the worst -- a slice of apple pie that had stale crust, about 3 dehydrated apples, and super parched granola topping. Does not one at the restaurants taste these desserts?

It seems as if I am the only person at the Thai place today whose dessert was at least semi-edible. Rebecca got this weird pie that was sort of like clear gelatin mixed with banana baby food.

How can it be this hard to get good dessert?

I'm in the mood for chocolate creme brulee over at The Rose Tattoo....although I can guarantee that I'd get over there and they'd have either regular creme brulee or their peach creme brulee (which are both good).

Luckily my cravings will likely be quashed in about an hour -- I have yoga tonight. Nothing makes me less inclined to chow down than spending 90 minutes in the tropics. And, happily, Craig will be picking me up after class so I don't have to worry about sweating all over the back seat of a cab...although my reek is usually secondary to the foulness of the cab (or the cab driver, occasionally). It's so excellent that Craig liked yoga last week - it's nice to have him actually interested in something that I am. I just wish that he'd go more often -- he's pretty wound.

---

What is it that makes "work" such a bad thing? We wish our lives away! If it's Monday, then we wish it were Wednesday....by Friday, we've wished away 5 days that could have been used to do wonderful things. And then we try to pack a week's worth of fun into the two days of the weekend. It sucks!

I'm as guilty as anyone else -- I always think "I could make great art if I could just quit working and spent the time in my studio". But then when I do have the time (weekends) I find myself trying to shove so much other stuff into my free time that I don't get to spend time creating.

And so it's time to quit complaining and time to do.