Erica Scott: Life, Love and Spanking

Ruminations, opinionated observations, darkly humorous blathering and the occasional rant from an outspoken spanko and unapologetic attention wh–, um, hog.

Completely OT: Mind if I rant a little?

The question was rhetorical, of course, because I’m going to anyway.

So we went to John’s mother’s memorial this past Saturday. Never mind how tacky it is to have a memorial in March for someone who passed in December. But considering that this family has been bitterly battling for three months, gathering them all for a solemn and sad occasion in the guiseΒ of familial closeness and respect seemed like a farce.

John and I took separate cars, because I fully intended to go home right afterward and not attend the reception at his sister’s home. I just couldn’t stand the thought of making small talk with these people. But I wouldn’t let John go to the memorial itself alone. So I dressed up — it was 95 degrees outside, so I wore a sleeveless black dress with a floral print, nude pantyhose (which John hated, but I told him the occasion called for it), and I dug my more conservative black pumps out of the back of my closet. Why I bothered worrying about my appearance, I don’t know.

Because one of John’s sisters, the one who owns the restaurant (and was, no doubt, pissed off that she had to leave her store on a business day), came in faded jeans and flip-flops. Folks, this is no kid. This woman is nearly 60 years old. She knows better.

John’s brother hugged me — twice. But neither of his sisters did. Of course, his lecherous brother-in-law went in for a hug. I went completely stiff and barely hugged back. I don’t even pretend to like that jackass anymore.

I got a warm greeting from John’s aunt (his mom’s sister) and her son. I felt bad for her; she’d lost her best friend. Her sorrow was dignified and real. The others? A lot of crying and sniffling and stories that made me cringe. Great. Talk about how Mom couldn’t tell her TV remote from the cell phone, or how she couldn’t use the microwave no matter how many times you showed her. Make her sound like a mindless dolt.

Just last week, John’s sister-in-law was telling me how John’s mother was complicit in the father’s tyranny over his children. But at the memorial, she wept and said John’s mother was a “total sweetheart.” God, the hypocrisy at these things.

John didn’t cry, but then again, John doesn’t cry. And he softened the remote control stories by saying that those damn things really were complicated, and even he couldn’t figure out how to work them and he’s an engineer.

One of the in-laws played a solo on the flute, some sort of new-age melody meant to sound like birds flying away. All I noticed was that he was off-key. And not just once, but several times. Please, make it stop.

John’sΒ eldest sister said, “She brought spirituality into our home.” Spirituality?? Is that what they’re calling rigid Catholicism these days? Those four kids were dragged to church every single Sunday, and put through twelve years of sexually segregated Catholic school. John has horror stories of abusive nuns. With the exception of John, who was the Good Son, all the siblings broke free of their oppressive environment and acted out in destructive ways. If this is spirituality, then I’ll be happily soulless, thank you.

When it was over, I suddenly and unexpectedly teared up. People around me assumed it was my own reaction to the loss. But it wasn’t.

I was crying because I knew that, with all my heart and soul, I didn’t want to go back to that damned house with these people. And because I knew that I was going to, goddammit. John wasn’t insisting. But I saw the look in his eyes. Pleading. I went.

And so I parked myself on the couch and didn’t move, listening to the stories, holding John’s hand. There was a buffet of sandwiches and salad and so forth, but I didn’t have any. Who the hell wants to eat a meal at 3:30 in the afternoon? I sipped from a bottle of water, nibbled from the crackers on the table, and just listened and observed. I looked at pictures. I watched both of John’s nieces put hard liquor in their Diet Cokes.

John’s sister-in-law was the only one who said anything about John’s upcoming surgery.

We made our escape a couple of hours later. I must have been looking shell-shocked, because John asked if I was OK. All I could say was, “I just want to go home.” And we did.

John thanked me over and over for the rest of the weekend. Said how beautiful I’d looked. Yeah, at least now I don’t have to worry about looking like a surly bitch when I’m not smiling, thanks to the wonders of cosmetic surgery.

I can’t think of a single reason from now on why I need to see either one of John’s sisters or their families ever again. The torture may finally be over. Fingers crossed. The business with the will and the estate still hasn’t been resolved, and there is a meeting between the siblings next Saturday. I am hoping his sister will do the right thing and not bring a lawsuit down on her head. Not because I give a damn about her, but because I don’t want John to deal with the added stress. He had a little matter of open-heart surgery to deal with.

Poor John. He deserves so much better than this. But at least, maybe (I’m still skeptical), he’ll have his brother and sister-in-law. They both told us, “Anything you need, just call,” during John’s surgery/convalescence. We’ll see.

Meanwhile, since I was all dressed up, John said to pick anywhere I’d like for dinner. I thought it would be nice to go to our favorite Italian restaurant — but upon arrival, we discovered it was closed for remodeling. (sigh) So we headed in the opposite direction and went for Chinese instead. I was overdressed, but it turned out to be a good choice anyway.

I don’t know what this blog will be like in the coming weeks, kids. It may not be much fun. It probably won’t have much spanky stuff, unless I go stir-crazy and sneak in some play. But I hope you’ll all stick around.

I’m going to visit Steve tomorrow. Who knows, maybe we can improvise something, even with his knee bandaged and braced. πŸ™‚ I will need to snatch my sanity and stress release as I can get it for a while.

Hope everyone had a nice weekend.

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24 thoughts on “Completely OT: Mind if I rant a little?

  1. As far as what people wear to funerals these days, times have definitely changed. My cousin died a few years ago, and I was the ONLY one who wore black. Even my great aunt, who’s going to be 100 years old in a month wore white and beige.

    As far as putting up with family who don’t understand how to act, believe me, I have a bunch of those too. Some people just don’t know how to treat people, and will treat strangers better than they treat family. There’s no changing people like that. The best you can do is what you’re doing. Limit your time with them for your own sanity.

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  2. Jen — I don’t expect people to wear black suits. John’s aunt wore a cream-colored pantsuit and looked just fine. But for a daughter to wear ratty jeans and flip-flops is a bit much. The statement was clear: “Eff you — I had to leave my business in the middle of the day and I can’t be bothered to change.”

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    • I could see if she had black jeans in good shape, because that’s what I have to wear a lot. I haven’t had a pair of black pants in a decade or more, except for jeans. Some people really don’t know the rules about what to wear to things like that. Maybe she thought because it was a memorial service instead of a funeral that she didn’t have to follow the same rules. Or she could just be a bitch from hell, which sounds about right. ; )

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  3. Harold F. Loeblein on said:

    I don’t think there is much that you and John can’t do, if you really want to do it. Being a church going Catholic, please don’t put all of us in the same box. Hal

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    • Hal — You know what? I don’t know why you keep commenting to my blog. Ever since you publicly insulted me on Twitter, I made it clear that I don’t wish to speak to you anymore. I’m not putting anyone in any box; I was speaking of John’s family, not you.

      I had hoped that not answering your comments and emails would give you the hint, but clearly, that wasn’t the case. So please. Leave me alone.

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  4. (cough) At Tom’s dad’s memorial service, we all wore biker clothes (leather vests, chaps, jackets, riding boots, etc.). I’m sure we all looked silly, but his dad was definitely a rider so we were trying to honor that…and he almost always wore some kind of leather. I feel like it made it more personal for us.

    I hope you really don’t have to interact with the rest of them anymore and that John doesn’t stress out too much over all the messy estate stuff.

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  5. Downunderdon on said:

    At least it takes the pressure off John so that he is relaxed for his surgery. I hope all goes well.

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  6. poppamark on said:

    One thing you should know by now. Your friends here don’t come for just the spanky – stuff!
    We will stand by you for whatever you need! You vent and we will listen! πŸ™‚

    OH; I am sure you and Steve will improvise something! πŸ™‚ Are you thinking of being obedient??? ROFL

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  7. Anonymous on said:

    My heart goes out to you and John. It was wonderful to see you both (however briefly) at 50 Freaks.

    Stay strong and I’m sure you’ll get through these trials as you have the many that have come before. Unfortunately, there’s precious little rest for the good either.

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  8. Good for you to stay with John, Erica, in spite of nearly everyone and everything.
    This tie is priceless, especially the upcoming week.
    Than you for sharing, please keep doing so. Best of lucks, and hugs.

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    • Don — we’ll see. It all depends on how things go with the family meeting next weekend (right before his surgery!). Ugh.

      Poppa — really? REALLY? πŸ˜‰

      Anonymous — thank you so much. We’ll do our best.

      MrJ — I do what I can. Sometimes it doesn’t feel like enough, but it’s my best.

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  9. I wish I could give you a hug right now. Sometimes there are just no words.

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  10. Hi Erica — I am glad the memorial is over and you don’t have to see John’s mean sisters again.I agree that the way his sister dressed wasn’t right.That’s no respect for her mom 😦 I think you and John, are very strong you get through thing’s together, Which is great. Rant all you want, I am here to listen πŸ™‚ I am not going no where.I think you and Steve can work something out somehow, so you can get spanked πŸ™‚ Wishing John the BEST of luck with his surgery.Much Love and hugs from naughty girl Jade/ Emily Jean

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  11. As you demonstrated, Erica, real love means putting yourself out for the ones you care about– especially the one you care most about. It’s sad to think some of those people may never know what that’s like.

    Meanwhile, I’ll be eager to hear about John’s successful surgery; you both deserve all the very best.

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  12. Still an Admirer on said:

    As one of those gals raised strictly Catholic and went to 12 yrs of gender segregated school, I can relate. It was when I was older (in my 40s) did I become a recovering Catholic. Not every Catholic had my experience but I know many who have. I am glad you were with John. I feel bad that he has this type of family dynamic. Best of good wishes for John’s upcoming surgery. I hope to see updates here or on FL. Take care of you too.

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  13. David Webley on said:

    OK it was bad. But you DID it. Well done ‘They’ can’t snipe at John for you not coming. ‘They’ know you stand by John. Far more importantly HE knows that. So Hell part 2 over!

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