I don't think I've ever described Laura to y'all, but she's a freakin' knockout, no matter what she says: a cross between Cindy Crawford and Carly Simon, to be exact, only shorter and 8-3/4 pregnant. Now, before Laura married and spawned (she and her husband already have a beautiful little girl), she was basically boobs on a stick -- not grossly huge, but she was thin, making her look more chesty. Then Sarah came, and apparently the little one liked the right boob better than the other, because now? Laura's left one is freakishly large. No. Seriously. Most women already have the asymmetrical thing going -- myself included -- but this almost isn't to be believed. So she and I were talking today about how she's all ready to go on The Swan about this. She's even got the story all down about how her freakishly assymmetrical boobs have affected her marriage and how she would have her husband call and say, "Don't you call here until those things are the same size."

No, she wouldn't REALLY do it, but it would be funnier than hell if she did.
Oh, whatEVER.

Not sure who called who, but they talked about how Nancy was doing and some other stuff that had nothing to do with me, which is fine, but not really. Why? Because a couple things literally just popped out at me that while they're no doubt part of my issues with the whole debacle, I've never admitted them out loud, at least in any sort of tangible way to anyone except Kaffy. They're the following:

1) BFKAS and Crazy Aunt talking could conceivably end up with the two of them patching things up, and I would somehow be kicked out of the family, which in turn makes me want to run and distance myself from the whole damn lot of them before anyone gets the chance to do anything; and
2) When Boy Wonder dropped some stuff off from my sister for Nancy, he told Crazy Aunt that the two of them went to the movies last night. And I'm jealous and hurt that he and I don't have that relationship.

Now, that first one sounds like pure crazy talk, I'm sure, because the rest of the family has supported me the last six years, so why would they all of a sudden just stop, right!?!? Absolutely, and I'd agree 100 percent, except that BFKAS and SC weren't supposed to turn on me, and look how well that went. The thing with my brother, on the other hand, is all about never having had siblings and wanting one, and worse, knowing that he could have a relationship with me if he wanted but apparently has chosen to not. (Background: At one point, he and I did start having a relationship, and then it stopped for reasons I can't go further with here. But suffice it to say, I ended up feeling manipulated and used.)

Ok, I'm not falling into some sort of pit of anything, if that's what it sounds like; I know that these are my issues, and until something happens to validate the existence of these boogeymen, they're just that -- boogeymen under the bed of what is actually a pretty damn cool life. More importantly, I'm not going to turn this into a big whinefest. Part of this, if y'all must know the truth, is my fault but for a completely different reason: In my BlogExplosion profile, I kinda pimped out the fact that I'm an adoptee -- something I kinda wish I hadn't done now, because although I am one, I don't necessarily want it to be my shtick. It was either that our pimping out my exceptionally foul language, but BE frowns upon that.
Oh, whatEVER.

The evening was April 16, 1998; I was still living at home and working as a customer service wonk at a downtown publishing company. I'd gotten home around 7-ish -- Mother was cross-stitching on the couch, and Dad was in his plastic chair watching TV -- and I was scarfing down Mother's spaghetti and a salad with Western French when the phone rang. Mother says, "Yeah, someone called for you earlier but didn't leave their name," so I answered the phone.
And those were my exact words, too. I mean, when something like that gets dropped in your lap, you kind of don't forget the moment.

So, this Chris Lucas and I started talking, and I of course asked how this whole thing works. The process goes like this: Indiana is an intermediary state, which means that a person sworn in by the courts can petition them to have an adoption record opened on behalf of the birth parent or adoptee. Once opened, the intermediary then finds the person through typical detective methods; in my case, it was easy, because neither BFKAS nor I ever left Lake County.

The choice then falls to the person who's getting contacted: Do you wanna or not? If you don't -- and here's the catch -- you don't get access to your original birth certificate. But that was never even a consideration, because of COURSE I was going to meet her. I mean, my God, right!?!? This is the person who instilled in me my somewhat crippling abandonment issues -- you think I'm NOT going to meet her!!??! (Actually, at that point, I'd started attempting to work through my somewhat crippling abandonment issues in my third go-around at therapy, so thinking about finding her? Not a priority. Not that I wouldn't have at some point, because knowing me, I'm sure I would've. Just not then. And honestly, at that point, I was beyond the whole thrashing "OhmiGOD-how-could-you-LEAVE-me?" drama and realized that it was probably a choice between a good home and a trailer park or worse that she had to make, so, you know, she did the right thing. On so many levels did she do the right thing, but that of course comes later.)

So after I was on the phone for an hour or so with the mediator, Mother calls her best friend and tells her the news, etc., and I go out to the living room where Dad was, and he looked and said, "Wow, isn't THAT something?" And was like, "Yeah, yeah it is. Holy hell." And then I said, "You know I'm going to do this, right?" And then, as if he knew the disaster it was all going to become before it even became it, Dad said to me, "Why don't you wait a few days before you make a final decision?" And I said, "Well, sure, but I don't see how waiting a few days is going to change my mind."

If you're interersted in how adoption law works in the U.S. of A., Bastard Nation has an easy-to-follow chart of the terms and laws and stuff.
Oh, whatEVER.