Wednesday, January 07, 2004

I made up my mind to leave Vancouver. There is nothing here for me. I've been complaining left and right. Most people agree with my grievances.

When I first came back, Karen asked me how long I was going to stay. "Why, forever," I answered. Karen said she didn't think this city is suitable for me.

A mass exodus of friends took place over the eight months since I've been back. Last month Non-Arizona Cheryl announced her resignation as a Vancouverite. Shirley will probably move to New Zealand. I will fetch Arizona Cheryl in the summer, but she is married. So no chance of monopolizing her time.

Since there is nothing here from me, I wear my pout all the time. I am allowed. I will soon leave this mute town. It doesn't matter what bitter feeling I leave behind.

Then it happened. I walked into a room. Everyone smiled at me. "Sit beside me," said a lady. Whenever I said anything, everyone listened then nodded in agreement.

How dare they! Didn't they realize I wanted to hate Vancouver and all its inhabitants?

Well, I left having made one new friend (a Slovakian nanny).

Then my grandmother phoned to wish me a happy name day. (January 7 is Saint John the Baptist Day. My name derives from John.)

Grr! Can things get any worse?

Well, my godmother/aunt called to invite me over for sauerkraut.

Now who can refuse to see my bawdy aunt and perverted uncle?

I found myself at my perverted uncle's party eating mamaliga (polenta) and chugging overly-sweet champagne. My relatives amused themselves by commenting on the size of bread loaves. Then there are the miscellaneous swears they taught the Filipino bride. The chihuahua bit me.

My aunt promised me a massage and a takeout dinner next week. Before I go out the door I get a sealed envelope with my name day present.

My defenses are crumbling.

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