I haven't written in a few days. Not for lack of desire, but for the simple fact that my mind has decided to focus only on one topic. So, with apologies, I'll suck it up and write about it. That way, I can move onto more important issues, or better yet, find some one to poke fun at. Like that raving lunatic Tom Cruise. Or Wesley Snipes, who in a fit of hubris, thought the folks over at the I.R.S. might not notice if he failed to file his tax returns for a few years. Or Bush, who actually isn't funny at all, now that I think about it. But I digress.

In my blog entry of April 16th of this year, I talked about how my parents were in NYC for the weekend. They would be seeing various people, my estranged sister and her husband included. I mentioned the fact that I, despite living in Philadelphia, was not invited to join my parents, the "Snidelys". That it also never occurred to me to suggest to the old Snidelys that I should hop on a bus and meet them at some point. Mum had been bleating on and on about how busy they were going to be, what with this person and that, and how they'd really much rather be home eating boiled eggs. I kid you not.

Their retirement to Florida has turned them into moles. Long gone are the seventies swingers, the eighties investment banking CEO and socialite wife, the nineties Four Diamond Innkeepers. Now, they work out more times a day than I eat, (which is a lot), and deprive themselves of pretty much any food that makes life worth living. They also take an awful lot of showers. My darling step-grandmamma says that it's to wash away the guilt. She may be on to something.

Well, of course, they had a fabulous time, despite the lack of boiled eggs. My therapist, wondered whether I was hurt by the fact that I hadn't been included in the plans, and not having given the matter much thought, I said no. My psychiatrist, god bless him for his medicinal wonders, put forth that I was raised by wolves. Having seen how Griffin and Cricket interact, I would like to state on his behalf that this is the biggest insult to the wolf community that has ever been made in the history of mankind. Ever.

The problem arose last Friday at my weekly therapy session. I have a Cognitive-Behavior Therapist, Ruth, whom I love. She was one of the first students of the founder, Doctor Aaron Beck. The subject of my parents and my relationship came up. That there were things that they didn't know about me, such as this blog, that they might really be proud of. (I actually chose to write this under the name of my great-grandmamma on my fathers side, simply because A) I didn't feel important enough to sign my own name and B) I would have the freedom to write what I wanted, without fear of my father stumbling across it.

If I want the Snidelys to read this, I will tell them in my own time.) Whilst I talk every few days with my mum every few days, my dads at first selective and then actual hearing loss have ceased our phone convesations for over a decade. The best I can do there is send the odd e-mail, with movie and book recommendations, as our tastes are similar, and the odd, Snidely-type witticism. However, if we do exchange one or two e-mails and I get excited into thinking a real dialogue has started and send more, I'm doomed. A sudden silence erupts from Snidely senior and I'm left, once again, desperately checking my inbox for days on end, until it dawns on me, that yet again I have crossed some invisable line of intimacy that only he knows.

So Ruth asked the question that I didn't want to hear. The one I hadn't asked myself because how could I? "Do you know why your parents didn't want to see you?" And this, boys and girls, ladies and gentlemen, is why I haven't been able to write in a few days. Nor sleep too well. Or read, listen to NPR or engage in other things that I find enjoyable. My parents have not seen me in over five years. The last time, I had visited them at their McMansion in Florida, it wasn't pretty. I had too much to drink one day and my father and I had words. Oops. The time before that, I was in a mental ward.

It was actually the third time I had been hospitalized. Each time I stayed for at least three weeks and I could not fathom why they were visiting now. I was high as a kite on all the meds they were feeding me, but Cricket says that it was amazing how my behavior changed. I became like a little kid, the way they behave in a doctors office, complete with downcast eyes and swinging legs.

I have been sober in a 12-Step program for over three and a half years. My parents kept the wedding of my estranged sister a secret from me, later claiming that it was the fear of the loss of my sobriety that did that! I ask you? Did they honestly think I would get my lazy arse enough together to get to her Big Day, which was down in Sarasota, get loaded, and then, oh, I dunno, maybe, hug her? give her a wedding prezzie? meet the groom? Or maybe they had darker thoughts. That I would sit in the back and spit and heckle. Froth. Shout and speak in foul words.

The Snidelys and my sister Margaret, went on holiday recently. This included her husband David and Snidely seniors' best friends from England Jack and Joanna. At this time, Margaret had actually been e-mailing me. I think the fact that I was functioning rather well and maybe the fact that she had a new husband to impress had motivated her to get back in touch with me. She also had heard through our mother that I was doing some voice-over work and for some reason that seemed to impress her. Nonetheless, I was not invited to the family holiday.

I had grown up with Jack 'n' Jo, and babysat their daughter all through the seventies. They were over every week-end to avoid the council-flat man, who would put them out. I went to sleep with the sounds of Niel Diamond. They drank rum and cokes and played cards and that pissed the neighbours and my mothers family off. (To this day I know every word of those Diamond songs, much to my chagrin.) But I was not asked to be part of this trip to Europe.

You may have been wondering where this all was going. Well, it's just to illustrate that there is a pattern within the Snidelys of not including me in their plans. But their being in the Old Apple is kind of different. I mean it's close to my home. They could of come here. Which I wouldn't have wanted. Because I live in a big ole ramshackle house, and they live in one of those Mc Mansions. But back to the point. Why didn't they want to include me in their plans? That question has haunted me for the past few days. They have two daughters. One who fights mental illness and alcoholism. The other, apparently healthy in mind and body, who won't have me in her life. It looks like the Snidelys are on her side.

What did I do? I sent them both an e-mail, asking if they could tell me why they don't want to see me any more. That should be a lot of fun for everyone. Where's Tom Cruise when you need him?