Not much to report at this time. I was watching TV, then I layered my bangs. Now I’m gonna hang out here in my room and read so I can hear if that weirdo starts hammering so I can jump on the phone and give him a piece of my mind.

I went another 24 hours with no Theodur last Sunday. I hope they call soon, though, about setting a time to see Dr. Rauche. Or Roushe. Or however the hell you spell it.

I spoke to Andy at his new apartment. Diana read the little journal I wrote to him for his birthday last February.

Tomorrow night Andy and Diana are going to see Melissa Ethridge in concert, then they’ll be stopping over here to get their stuff. I mean Andy’s soaps, the Judds movie, the backup edit tapes, and the pad I wrote this year’s horoscopes in.

Later...

No hammering at all last night as I finished my library book.

The red van of theirs is there, so if Lenore and the kids went to Idaho, they didn’t go in the van. Personally, I wouldn’t trust that piece of shit outside of Phoenix. Also, I think I may have heard one of those kids wailing.

As Tom was leaving for work this horrible smell of rotten eggs woke me up just as I was knocking off. The cooler does that when the water gets stale, but I said, that’s impossible! He just put the cleaner in that takes away that smell. Then when I came out of my room I realized it was coming from the bathroom, so I thought he had a serious stomach problem. Later he told me he treated the clogged drain.

I wonder if we’ll screw around today. For some reason, I doubt it. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was too tired to screw and only wanted to go down there which is fine, but I’m not stupid, either. We didn’t screw around yesterday either, and the opportunity was there, too. I have a feeling that we won’t be screwing until this weekend. It’s his choice, though. He says we can have a kid, we want a kid and we don’t have to wait. Well, it takes two to make a baby, so he’ll just have to put his actions where his mouth is.

Got a letter from Andy and Diana today which she wrote. It was cool and she has nice handwriting. Andy said I could send her a letter and she’ll write back.

No package from mom and dad yet. I was right in sensing it wouldn’t come today.

I was also right, unfortunately, on sensing I’d have to tape Andy’s soaps tomorrow and Friday, too. The cable guy fucked up.

I had a weird, yet wonderful memory last night. It’s not that it’s something I forgot all about. I just hardly ever remember it. I believe I was 9 and it was definitely the summer I went to the first of the two camps I got kicked out of in Maine. The second one was Camp Meadowlark, but this was Camp Naomi. The memories are very vague, few, and quick. There was this one camp counselor that I was special to. She was probably somewhere in her 20s back then. I don’t even remember her name, but for some reason, the name Robin comes to mind. I can’t see her face or any of her in detail. If I had to guess, though, I’d say she was thin, average height, medium complexion, with brown eyes and hair. Her hair was maybe shoulder length and she may have had a plain face.

I may have had a vague memory of playing volleyball when she was around. I’m not sure. I’m not sure how many times I saw her.

I stood in a rectangular cabin. There were about two rows on opposite sides of the two longer walls with maybe 8-10 beds on each side. I remember stealing the barrette that belonged to the girl in the bed next to me. That was one of the reasons I got kicked out. I’m sure it was mainly cuz I was the hyper, obnoxious, little rebellious kid I usually was. I hated camp.

One night, though, I guess most of us kids were having trouble sleeping, including me. I remember lots of coughing going on, so maybe some kids had colds. Then there she was by my bed telling me, “Go to sleep before I kiss you all over” (not sexual of course; just playful). She might have said something about tickling me, too.

The next thing I remember, I was taken to her cabin. It was very small with 2 twin beds and a little kitchenette. I’m not sure if there was a bathroom in there, but there probably was, and a shower stall, too. She had a medium-sized dog. A mutt with 2 or 3 colors of brown. All I really remember is talking her to sleep. We were laying on our beds that were a few feet apart and I was yacking away as usual. I remember she fell asleep, then I guess I did right after.

The next morning, I think she cooked us breakfast. Maybe bacon and eggs. I think this was also the day my dad would be picking me up.

The last memory I have of her is of us in the woods with her dog. I remember being amazed at how she’d hide and the dog would always find her. Then she said, “I’ve got a present for you.”

It was a Polaroid of the dog. I ditched it when I was around 22, though.

Then I think I was waiting nervously for my dad, knowing how pissed and disappointed at me he’d be. I think I was alone with her and I might have said something like, “What am I gonna do till my dad arrives?”

She might have picked me up and spun me in the air playfully and said, “You’re gonna stay with me!”

We were outside by the office, possibly sitting on a bench or wherever. Then she was crying as Dad drove up and I got in the car and was gone.

Throughout the years I always got the feeling that if at that second no one ever wanted to have anything to do with me, she would’ve taken me in and been so good to me as I grew up. I would’ve been good, too. I always respected those who were good to me and therefore stayed out of trouble.

To the best of my knowledge, this woman wasn’t married and had no kids. I have no idea what she did regularly or where she lived. Did she live in Maine or some other New England state? For all I know she could be living right here in Phoenix. I thought about trying to look for her shortly after I went out on my own, but I wouldn’t have known where to begin.

Who was she? Why was I so special to her? Did I remind her of someone? Why did she treat me so well when no one else there wanted to deal with me or even acknowledge my existence? Does she ever think of me and wonder who, what, and where I am today? I guess I’ll never know.