Memory Lane

Warning: this post is made under the influence of several home made Lemon Drops. These lemon drops were quite the hit at family camp a few weeks back. This is not the original recipe which calls for Meyer Lemons. Nope, the Meyer lemon tree hasn't produced enough yet this year to make it so. This recipe is with the ones that you get from just about any super.

Wonelle's Lemon Drops

Mix over ice:
1 Cup Freshly squeezed lemon Juice
1 Cup Vodka
1/2 Cup Triple Sec
1/2 Cup Simple Syrup (recipe follows)
Strain into Martini Glasses (if you've got it in you - rimmed with colored sugar)

Simple Syrup
4 Cups Evaporated Cane Juice Sugar
4 Cups Water

Bring to a boil. Reduce heat to a low simmer until sugar granules liquefy.

As I mentioned in a previous post, my family has purchased a house together. What I failed to mention is that it's in the city where I grew up. They stayed there. I got out as soon as I could. They're moving and need to be out of their respective homes this week, the 31st.

I've been trying to assist Sister # 1 (the one with Husband and 2 kids) with childcare duty. It has been disastrous. I've been able to sit on the little one (the older one is 15) for a total of about 2 hours. It's not for the lack of trying though. It seems my child is on a completely different nap schedule than hers. As soon as I can watch her kid, mine is sleeping or vice versa. I somehow doubt that intention gains the same amount or type of positive thoughts as actually following through. In my heart of hearts I want to say "Whatever!" but I don't. I hear the brow beating in my own head. It's just as good as being there.

Sister #2 with one kid hasn't talked to me at all about needing help, etc. And to be fair, neither has sister #1. But hey, I'm bitching here. My Mom hasn't either. She's just a wreck. Can't make a decision about paint, flooring vs. carpet, etc. to save her life. Planning isn't even an option. I swear their brains just don't consider the lives of other people- or that talking is necessary to get things done. No phone calls, no discussion about what they need - or want - in terms of help from my family. It's frustrating to no end. So Wood works his arse off for the last two weekends helping out while I'm 100% responsible for Twig and feel like I'm getting a beating (behind my back of course) because I can't drop everything and help. Yeah, I do feel a bit guilty. It's my own shit...

My plan for today was to take Twig out in the morning, get a nap and then gather both him and my nephew for a park-playdate. Well, my playdate fell through (no biggie) and just as Twig fell asleep for his nap in the car, nephew was nowhere near going down. We don't fight Twig for naps at home anymore - it's just not worth it. If he happens to fall asleep in the car, Great! If not, Great! Usuallly though, he falls asleep in the car. Today he needed a little extra sleep and since I was trying to do good and was already there trying to do good, I drove through the town where I grew up. In case you don't know this - the town that I grew up in is The Town that I really, really don't like. The town that I would have absolutely no reason to visit if it weren't for the fact that my family lives there.

So, in order to give my child what he needed, I drove around The Town. And remembered.

...The house of my grade school best friend and that of many other grade-schoolmates...The Jews, the Scientists, Fat Southerners, Adopted Mexicans, Mormans,the Asian Kid with only a Dad and a Van, and the Outcasts (not to mention the school itself)...

And wondered what they are doing now.

...The house that I lived in until I was in High School - and the people that lived next door (on either side), the several folks on the street and the creek I would wander in for hours at a time. It's amazing to me these people that kept me sane while I grew up, and how amazingly thankful I am to those people for keeping me safe and influencing, in such a positive way, who I am today...

And wished that I could remember more names or faces.

...The neighborhoods that I rode my bike in for hours and hours at a time before High School - and the names that I gave the homes that we visited - Disneyland, the Seven Seas, Rock Garden, and goodness only knows what else - just because of their landscaping, Koi Ponds, and other decor...

And wished that I hadn't had to rely on imagination to take me away until I could go away. But counted my blessings for having had such an imagination to keep me busy.

...A friend whose dad was in his 90's when we were in our teens. They lived in a shack amongst mansions of their time. He owned the house and the land and refused to make updates despite his daughter's pleading. She lives there now. As I drove by, I heard the sound of happy children coming from her house, and saw very little indication of modernization...

And was glad that she had that place to be. Her Dad loved her to pieces and it showed.

...The neighborhood that I walked through, drunk and high on who-knows-what, in my skin tight dittos and come-fuck-me-Candies in the middle of the night, after probably having sex (or at least thinking I wanted to) with someone whom I'd probably never met before, and making it home in one piece...

And thinking that the God that I question whether or not I believe in, kept me safe for a reason, and how thankful I am for that.

...The man for whom I baby-sat when I was in High School. He was a divorced but relatively functional alcoholic sharing custody of his 18 month old (who is, in retrospect more than 20 years old now). Who lived across the street from my High School Math teacher - the only one I ever had that could explain it in a way that I actually understood it. And who thought enough of me (despite knowing about my messed up family) to hire me to babysit his kids too...

And remembered that people are good and kind, and are given to you to help you and remind you of what could be - in their own way.

...The house where my best friend and her now Husband of almost 20 years lived for a hot minute - where I acquired a taste for red wine and the exact location of a middle of the night fight with my boyfriend that resolved absolutely nothing...

...And the home of his friend, who wanted to be my boyfriend, because my boyfriend was such an ass toward me, and didn't deserve me, and would never do right by me...

And thought of how those experiences helped me to make the right choices and led me to where I am now.

...And the toy store, and the falafel house, and the time I got hauled in for stealing, and, and...

...and how I hate to go there and remember all of those things. But how important those memories are to who I am now.

Excuse me, I want another Lemon Drop.