Little white lies

Happy Father's Day -- now let me sit here with you all day and lie, lie, lie my face off dad!

Yesterday, I went home for Father's Day. Josh, well Josh was in Vegas, probably looking at nekkid breasts as part of out friend Matt's bachelor party. So while he was ogling and gambling and eating and generally having a grand time doing things I can no longer do, I went home to my parents' house.

While there, I was feeling pretty smug. Not sick, not tired, feeling good. Allllll riiiight.

Then we all went to lunch with my sister, Beth, and her husband, Paul. Of course they know, but the parentals, not so much.

So during lunch, I had to get up to pee. Like I do all the damn time lately. When I excused myself, my sister said my mom immediately asked what was wrong with me. She said I was acting weird.

Let me state, for the record, I was not acting weird. I had to pee.

My sister, who told me earlier she had been avoiding my mother like the plague since my announcement so she would not accidentally say anything, froze. Now my sister? She is not good in a crisis.

Once, we were involved in a road rage situation when she was freaking out and crying while I calmly drove circles around our neighborhood. Granted, I was driving VERY fast and refused to stop, but she was of no help to me.

So she blurts out to my mother, "I don't know. I didn't feel good yesterday, Paul didn't feel good, Cookie (their dog) didn't either. Maybe we all got the same germs."

Ummm, OK.

After lunch my sister pulled me aside on the parking lot and told me, "Get the hell out of Dodge. I can't take this anymore."

Lucky for her, I was already leaving.

Only four more days until we can tell the families. Thank God, because I really want my mom to know in case I get sick and need her. There's no one you want more when you are puking your shit than your mommy.