Happy The-day-after-Halloween; it's shaping up to be another hectic month here on the Coast; not AS hectic as it is back East but it's still fairly busy. As Anthony told you, his side of the family came out here for Thanksgiving which, despite his confrontation with HIS irritating jerk dad, was kind of nice. I finally got to really bond with his step-mom which is cool; after all, it's good to know that all parents aren't jerks or maniacs. About the only cloud over the nice time we had was wondering how bad Gavin would take it when Anthony told him that his expansion plans needed to be rethought. I'm not a CA so I can't tell you the technical terms for why the old boy's plans were wrong; I have, however, spent most of my life in Milborough so it only stands to reason that they have to be bad.
In any event, thinking about how nice it was to have another female role model in my life got me to thinking about a question people have been asking me a lot; why am I not close to Deanna. Well, to start with, there's an unwritten rule that sort of groups people into, well, tribes; when we were sharing the Pattermanse, she was a member of WorkingMom and I was a Freeter so we weren't supposed to have much in common. That, however, is only the superficial explanation. I also felt ill-at-ease around her because she's a member of Team Mike; despite the progress we've made, we both know that he and I never really be that close owing to being raised by the parents we had and, well, there was also that time someone pointed out that she and I looked similar. It's not really all that nice to have to contemplate borother-sister incest by proxy. Worst of all, of course, was that for the longest time, Deanna was as deceived by the 'rents as Anthony was. She thought that Mom hung the moon which vaguely upset me; I couldn't say why at the time but it still sort of bugged me that she spent all that time thinking that we were perfect.
The latest e-mails from Cst. Luggsworth prove that that's not the case. Mom, you see, has escaped from care and, since she has a rotten sense of direction, forgot what kilometers are and forgot what little High School French she learned, is at large in Eastgate, seemingly unstuck in time. Dad seems vaguely remorseful about this but you never know with him. He thinks that Gavin is an okay guy so he might just be worried about how her being a step ahead of the cops makes HIM look. Hell, he didn't even step in when Mom threw out the Halloween candy; imagine my shock when I learned that almost nobody tossed it the next morning. I spent years wondering why all the other kids had candy and chips in their lunches in the first part of November. I was so let down, I didn't even have the heart to get into the usual friendly 21-24 argument about Secret Saturdays. Ah, well; think of that as yet another reason to feel disappointed in my folks. About the only good thing about having a horrible mother is that it keeps you from being as bad. This means that Francie is bound to have better Thanksgivings and Halloweens than I did.
Now to slightly cheerier news; April finally seems to be getting the hang of University life. That's because she's the latest victim of the Curse of Boire High; it never fails to astonish me how many grads do poorly on their first midterms. Not to put too fine a point on it, Anthony deserves some sort of award for skating by with a straight C-minus when his first time at bat came up. I know that talking down a freaked kid sister isn't really good news but considering what else is going on, it's fairly benign in comparison.
As for us here, things are doing fairly well, all things considered. At any rate, we're bound to do better than our parents which is, I think, the point. Cross fingers on that at any rate.
Till next month,