JuddHole: A Hockey Nickname. Nothing dirty, I Swear

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I thought I could skip the country without going back to Fucking Texas.

April 30, 2005
Filed under:"H" for "Toy"

I'm learning that whenever you drop a bombshell, it's usually safest to wait for the dust to settle and then see where the pieces lay. I'd said before that I didn't expect anyone to really understand, I mostly just wanted to be trusted. Whether they do or they don't, I'm hearing very little from my extended family. This is okay, I understand that news like this goes down about as easily as, \”I have Cancer,\” or \”I'm having another nipple surgically attached,\” and I know that time will cool things out.

This is why, when Pops called Friday afternoon, I figured he was finally coming around and ready to talk about my impending life-upheaval. It's no secret that he and I aren't close, but the timing seemed about right.

Wrong. He called to inform me that he'd be in Denver on a flight layover, on his way to Texas. My last remaining (and favorite) grandparent died a few hours previous, he's headed down for the funeral, and was wondering if we could have lunch at the airport.

I was still reeling a bit from the news when he asked me to bring along pictures of my bride. Maybe there's hope for him after all.

This 'disconnect' though, has had me a touch nervous all week, and I invited the Mom over for dinner and a bottle of wine, just so we could hash out anything she may be feeling about all this too. No great surprise, but she's behind it 100%. She's been around for the whole story and honestly thinks that this entire deal is everything that I do. She gets it, and I trust her. She even got to talk briefly to WifeToBe when she called.

This might normally cause a freakage for the bride, talking to the future mother-in-law for the first time, but they got on like old friends. I was thankful that the subject of my penchant for peeing in the bathtub as an infant was never brought up, but it is International Long-Distance after all. Some things are going to have to wait 'til they're in person.

But, Life is good. It's ALL good. And nothing can change how Right I know this is.


While at the airport (I just returned) Pops called my favorite Aunt and cousin (whose graduation I attended last Spring) and told them when he'd be in. They began shrieking, in unison, that they needed me to come too.

I'll be honest, I was told that my appearance wasn't necessary in February, when my other aunt (graduating cousin's mother) died, and I was a touch hesitant for them to tell me that it was so incredibly necessary now. I didn't ask why, but they told me that they needed someone around to make them feel good again.

\”What, like feed you honey-coated snacks and rub your tummies?\”

\”No, we need someone to make us laugh, keep things up, but still be strong when we need.\”

\”I can't really afford it right now, but I'll be there. Make you laugh? Um… airline travel usually gets me good and gassy, if I can drink beer and fart, I'm pretty sure laughter will ensue.\”

*laughter prematurely ensues*

\”WE'RE paying for your ticket, get down here now! Oh, and bring pictures of the Aussie.\”

\”Pictures? I'll have to ask her what pictures I can bring, she's kinda sensitive about what her future in-laws (Texans and Montanans) are going to think of her. You guys okay with her in undies with a whip?\”

*laughter prematurely ends*

\”Whuh… whuh-uht?!?\”


My flight's tomorrow morning, I'm packing my only suit and tie, some pics of my bride (the beach ones honey, not the Betties), and I'm going to eat about 17 packets of peanuts en route. Heh heh, and chase 'em with a few beers.

HEY. They asked for it.


Oh, and sorry for not just linking directly to WifeToBe in the last entry. I'm pretty damn dumb sometimes and forget how many friggin people there are that read this shit.

If I brought unwanted traffic to your site, I apologize, but on the other hand, if I can spark some new readers for the folks that I dig (a la El Puerco when he did it for me) then that's way cool.

You gotta admit though, somebody landing on Wombat's diary, expecting to find my beautiful betrothed, must've shat themselves when they saw a big, hairy, beer-swilling, dude in a kilt.

Fuckin' classic.



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