Back from France

I drove back from Champs Les Sims in the dead of night, in a rented Jeep.

After I got back, I put together our new nectar cellar. I figured the nectar maker and the nectar bottles are going to be handy when we put together our next party, we'll have that to serve. Both mom and I know how to make nectar, and I'm going to teach Neil and Bassy how to do it too.

After I got back, I decided to pay a visit to Ari, who now wants to be called by her given name, Arielle. Ari, as usual, was teed off. I tried to talk about my trip and she's all, "I'm sick and tired of seeing my best friend on the cover of some trashy gossip rag."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm browsing through some stuff at the bookstore, and here you are on the cover of this gossip rag, suckin' face with some guy! What's that about?"

"None of your business!"

"Who is he, Savannah? I wanna know. Besides -- he's kinda cute. Geeky -- but cute."

I was reluctant. "His name is Gustave Delven."

"Oooh, Gustave!" she teased, "sounds veddy French."

"We met the first time I went to France, when my parents got married." I told her about the nectar history project we ended up working on.

"Uh-huh, and then you ended up sleeping at his house -- better be careful, Vanna, that's how these start!"

"There's one problem -- the bitch he lives with, Jolene. He says she's his roommate, but the way she's acting it seems like there's much more going on than that."

"Ah, so you're the other woman!"

"You watch entirely too much TV, Ari," I teased.

Ari and I decided to go over to Hogan's to get a bite to eat.

"You have to think about what you're getting into," Ari cautioned over her blaring Llama Mouth band while we were making the drive. "Jolene not only doesn't sound like a savory character, but it doesn't sound like Gustave has been entirely truthful to you, either."

"What do you mean? He doesn't seem like he has a lie inside of him."

"That's just it," Ari said. "It's pretty clear there's something going on between him and Jolene, but to keep from hurting you, he won't tell you about it. Seriously, why would they move in together?"

Being a Friday night, the place was PACKED! It was even more packed than usual because Hogan's was running an all-you-can-eat special. We had fried hot chicken wings and onion rings -- exactly the greasy fattening food I'd sworn off.

Just before I left, I saw Bassy and Neil pull up in Bassy's car. I know they had been over at the spa because Bassy got a job there -- no doubt to try to get at girls -- and then they came over to the diner to try their hands and stomachs at the greasy stuff.

Now Ari's mad at me, too!

If all I've already detailed isn't bad enough, I had a major fight with Ari recently, too.

"Well, if it isn't the jet-setter herself," Ari said snottily.
"If you must know, Ari, I haven't been abroad in quite awhile."
"You haven't been here either, Vanna."
"I know. There's been a lot of stuff going on at home. We remodeled the house, I signed the contract with my publisher, then my nephew moved in and I had to get him settled. It's been crazy."
"So you finally decided to come and see little old me."
"Ar -- it's not even like that. "
"Too busy for me or anybody, is that it?" Ari tore into me and I had to stand there and take it. "I call the house, your dad or your mom answers the phone. 'Oh, Savannah isn't here. ' 'Oh, Savannah went to the library. 'Oh, Savannah went to the art gallery.' 'Oh, Savannah is speaking at city hall.' 'Oh, Savannah took her brother fishing.' It never ends."
"Ar, I'm sorry, I've been going through a lot lately."




My cell phone rang. "Sorry, I've got to take this call, it's my publisher."
Ari shook her head. "See, Vanna, that's exactly what I mean. It's like -- it's like you've gotten too big for anybody. Andrew has said the same thing."
I frowned. "He has?"
"Yep, he called the other day and says you don't return his calls. Vanna, he is madly in love with you and you've treated him worse than three-day-old garbage. Don't expect him to wait forever."
What Ari -- and my mom -- don't understand is I just don't feel -- that way -- about Cheesebum. He's a friend to me and that's it, really. I can't see myself on a farm with him, barefoot and pregnant, popping out babies like you pop out bubbles with bubble gum. I've accomplished too much for that kind of life and I still have ambitions to do more things.

Bassy's day at the gym

"I tried out for football today," Bassy announced yesterday evening during dinner. "And, ya know, I sucked. Coach told me I had to lose twenty pounds if I wanted to play."

"So -- do you really want to play football?" I asked him. "I thought you were going to cut that CD."

"I still am -- but I think I have to get in shape first."

"I just wonder if playing football is the way to do it." Dad asked. "Could you find something -- less dangerous?"

So I offered to take my adorable kid brother to the gym. It went pretty good at first, as Bassy and I got on treadmills.

After awhile, though, it became apparent that he needed -- um, a lot -- more work than I thought he did.

Meanwhile, I tried to keep my heart rate up while staying steady on a machine I set to go faster and faster.

Then, in the middle of my workout, the cell phone rang. It was, of course, Sim Weekly magazine. They've been trying to get an interview with me since I FIRST went to Egypt and I've denied their requests. Now that I'm attempting to adopt Satis and Imsety, they've been following me around, everywhere. I feel like I'm being watched all the time, in some kind of warped virtual-reality show.

I thought back to dad's convo the other day, about wanting to hire a personal assistant for me. At the time I told him it was foolish because I'm a grown woman and don't need to be baby-sat. But I can't possibly fend off all these interview requests by myself. I'm tired of it all, really.

Dad's good deed

There was a story in the local paper about a good deed my dad did during my mom's promotion party. The party happened when I was young.

It's a measure of the kind of person my dad is that this story didn't get out until now. He didn't want to make a big deal of it. And, he didn't write it.

The daughter of the woman he did the deed for wrote it.

Celina Hicks (one of Bassy's classmates) revealed that when she was born, it was my dad who took her mom to the hospital.

Apparently it was the night that my mom got promoted to conductor of the orchestra, and mom threw a big party in the park. Celina's mother was pregnant and about to deliver, and my dad was the one who took her to the hospital -- in his own private limo.

Later, Celina's dad met them at the hospital. The four of them rode back, again in dad's limo.

Bassy's musical dreams

Now that all the sentimentality is out of the way....

Bassy appears to be dead serious about cutting a CD.

He and Neil have suddenly got it in their heads that they're going to form a band and become famous rock stars. Actually, I think Bassy is the main culprit, he's just taking Neil along for the ride.

Just the other day at dinner I heard him broach the subject to dad. "Boys," dad said, "you know how much work goes into releasing a CD?"

"Duh," Bassy retorted, rolling his eyes, "I've only heard this story from you, like, a hundred million times." He was half grinning as he said it though.

"Here's what we're gonna do," I heard Bassy say in Dad's study, with Neil hanging on his every word. "We're gonna go over to the theater and check out the equipment..."

So, the next morning, I confronted Bassy about it. "You sure you want to do this?"
"I've never been so sure about anything in my life."
"What's going to be on the CD? Can't have a CD without anything on it. Are you going to write songs or do covers of others?"
"Well," he told me, "I've got one song written and Dad has given me permission to do modern-rock covers of three of his --"
I let out a deep breath. His mind was already made up. Come hell or high water, even if he falls flat on his face, he's going to do it, no matter what anyone says. Hmm, sounds damn familiar doesn't it?

I am in no way saying that he will fall flat on his face, heck, he has more musical talent in his pinky than I have in my body. There's no way he can. I mean, the girls fall all over him and they haven't heard him play a note yet.

Time marches on

The dust was settling on the fact that Noah was now an elder.

Combine that with Ari's revelation that two of my classmates from school, Darrel and Windy, have settled down with significant others, and I got to thinking.

Here I was, halfway through YA, and I'd never even had a boyfriend. I've never even been kissed.

It's no wonder, then, that the next morning I woke up absolutely sick to my stomach and puking out my guts. I think it was realizing that my parents were not long for this life, that very soon both will be going on to the afterlife. And I would be left here, with my brother and nephew.
I think it was also realizing that while I'm waiting for this adoption to go through, my own biological clock is tick, ticking away. And while I have plenty of male acquaintances, friends even, especially abroad, I don't have a 'special friend,' that one person I could share my life with.
Some of this, though, is my own fault. I realize mom was right when she said I was as stubborn as a mule. I know I am stubborn, I like having things my way. I've always been like this. I also think part of this is perfectionism. I don't want to completely commit myself unless it's with the right person. You understand.

I have the example of my parents, who despite everything have managed to grow old together and still be madly in love. Heck I heard them upstairs woohooing just the other night. Noah and Sadie, despited their difficulties with Neil, have also managed to grow old together.

I know that someday I'll be old, and I want to have someone to grow old right beside me.