The Return of Kid Sista
Saturday, 14 May 2005 17:11![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fatrockstarMy sister is coming to town. She's scheduled to arrive in time for Memorial Day weekend so we can enjoy the weather, go to the FolkLife festival, and maybe just be sisters for a few days. This isn't always easy -- there are 11 years separating us, and she's got some habits that MAKE ME CRAZY, but that's all part of sisterhood, I guess.
Back up a little bit to last month. Kid Sista was filling me in on her sitch, which was that she and her man had found a double-wide on five acres that they and their pets were loving to death. They could do what they want and it was private. Yay. Not too long after they had moved in, the double-wide's owner couldn't make the rent on the property and sold said double-wide to the property's owner. The property owner promptly came to the front door of Kid Sista & Co and demanded they vacate the premises immediately. Like anyone else would, my sister burst into tears. The property owner responded by asking her if she had a mental illness, and if she did, maybe she should accept Jesus Christ as her Lord and Savior.
Huh.
Somehow they managed to convince this old coot that they were in no position to just MOVE OUT, and bought enough time to find somewhere else to live. In the process of moving out they took a couple of pieces of furniture from the double-wide that weren't theirs because the original owner had told them they could after hearing the story of their ungraceful eviction. This didn't sit well with the property owner, who proceeded to harrass my sister for payment for the things they took. She changed her number twice to avoid him, only to have her Psycho Dad turn around and give the old coot the new information.
Now fast forward to this week... I had sent Kid Sista's itinerary to her new address but it was returned (turns out I didn't have the address right) and tried to call and get a correction -- but her phone had been disconnected, and I didn't know where else to look for her. Shit. I worried, but not for long. Today she called with her new number and what's been going on.
Psycho Dad gave out her phone number AGAIN, forcing her to change it. This time, she told him on no uncertain terms was he to give it to anyone without her permission. I wonder how long that will last -- her dad is one chair short of a dining set, that one. There are more stories than that one surrounding her paternal unit that I won't bore you with here. You'll just have to take my word for it that he needs to be medicated or committed.
Anyway, I talk a little more with my sister and discover that my mother's grave has no marker. I was horrified. I thought that was taken care of with the policy that gave her a place to be buried to begin with. To add insult to injury, the family is blaming me for this fact, when nobody came around to tell me about it. They all think I'm an ogre that hates the South. They're only half-right.
I convinced my sister not to worry any more about it because she was going to go out of her way to bring me the cemetery and funeral home's vital information so we can take care of this right away, and if anyone asks to be sure to tell them that I'm not refusing my mother a grave marker, it's that I had no idea she's been without one all this time! We'll talk about it more when she arrives on the 26th of this month.
Until then, I anxiously await the next chapter of The Adventures of Kid Sista.
Back up a little bit to last month. Kid Sista was filling me in on her sitch, which was that she and her man had found a double-wide on five acres that they and their pets were loving to death. They could do what they want and it was private. Yay. Not too long after they had moved in, the double-wide's owner couldn't make the rent on the property and sold said double-wide to the property's owner. The property owner promptly came to the front door of Kid Sista & Co and demanded they vacate the premises immediately. Like anyone else would, my sister burst into tears. The property owner responded by asking her if she had a mental illness, and if she did, maybe she should accept Jesus Christ as her Lord and Savior.
Huh.
Somehow they managed to convince this old coot that they were in no position to just MOVE OUT, and bought enough time to find somewhere else to live. In the process of moving out they took a couple of pieces of furniture from the double-wide that weren't theirs because the original owner had told them they could after hearing the story of their ungraceful eviction. This didn't sit well with the property owner, who proceeded to harrass my sister for payment for the things they took. She changed her number twice to avoid him, only to have her Psycho Dad turn around and give the old coot the new information.
Now fast forward to this week... I had sent Kid Sista's itinerary to her new address but it was returned (turns out I didn't have the address right) and tried to call and get a correction -- but her phone had been disconnected, and I didn't know where else to look for her. Shit. I worried, but not for long. Today she called with her new number and what's been going on.
Psycho Dad gave out her phone number AGAIN, forcing her to change it. This time, she told him on no uncertain terms was he to give it to anyone without her permission. I wonder how long that will last -- her dad is one chair short of a dining set, that one. There are more stories than that one surrounding her paternal unit that I won't bore you with here. You'll just have to take my word for it that he needs to be medicated or committed.
Anyway, I talk a little more with my sister and discover that my mother's grave has no marker. I was horrified. I thought that was taken care of with the policy that gave her a place to be buried to begin with. To add insult to injury, the family is blaming me for this fact, when nobody came around to tell me about it. They all think I'm an ogre that hates the South. They're only half-right.
I convinced my sister not to worry any more about it because she was going to go out of her way to bring me the cemetery and funeral home's vital information so we can take care of this right away, and if anyone asks to be sure to tell them that I'm not refusing my mother a grave marker, it's that I had no idea she's been without one all this time! We'll talk about it more when she arrives on the 26th of this month.
Until then, I anxiously await the next chapter of The Adventures of Kid Sista.
