WORD!


I have sent my sample chapter to the editrix. We meet tomorrow afternoon.

In the meantime, I have tied up my classes with a lil bow. My Basic Writing students, they cry and hug me and awkwardly shake my hand because they pass their exit exam. My seminar students send me maudlin emails about how "really great" our class was. And now I rush to Kalamazoo. I am, as they say, psyched--to see blogfriends, to socialize awkwardly over cheap plastic cups of wine, to listen to new and bitchin' scholarship, and to generally be in the Midwest in May. O homeland of wild violets and crabapple trees afloat with coral blossoms! O emerald stretching horizon! O flatland and flat accents of my birth! I salute you!

But there is trouble a-brewing over at the natal home of Lettriste, lemme tell you. My K'zoo plans usually involve flying home, and then borrowing one of my parents' cars, and driving to Michigan. (This is much cheaper and less stressful than the whole flying-into-Detroit bullshit.) Although this had been earlier arranged, now it will not work out, and so I must rent a car.

Could my mother fetch me when I arrive at 10 this evening? Why yes, she could. But she won't. Because she is mad at me. (And my dad can no longer drive at night.)

Whither her anger and her rejection? As usual, it is all my fault. You see, she wanted to throw my brother a shower for his upcoming nuptials, a fete to occur next weekend. At her house. She invited 75 people, and wanted it catered, ideally by me. She did not ask for this. But it was strongly implied. (Delegating? Not her strong suit.) Originally, I said I could be around to help her for the entire week preceding this party. And because I am traditionally her bitch, I implicitly offered by my presence to console and comfort her anxieties. Parties bring out the insanity in her, and my role is to protect her from her worst self. And at my mother's parties, I am the slave.

But TF has invited me to New York for several days, because he is throwing a surprise party for his sister and his whole family is going to be there, with children in tow. And I said I wanted to come. So now I will only be able to "help" my mother for 3 days, instead of 7. She "just has to" employ a caterer, which is "far more than" she can afford. No caterer passes muster. She is working at her job like crazy, and can't spare the time to be in charge of the party. Her highly competent and well-educated employee is now "useless" and "no longer helpful." And of course, generally, nobody loves my mother, nobody wants to assist her, nobody cares for her, the shower is going to be a bitter mess, the house is an infernal shithole that simply cannot be cleaned enough, I am a bad daughter, and oh yeah, I am also a crazy slut of the highest order for even thinking about TF, much less going to NYC with him.

Indeed she and my father wanted to know, "who is going to PAY for that trip to New York?" (I held firm and told them it was none of their goddamn business.)

Good times out there on the prairie! Word to your mutha!