Greetings from the not-so-thriving non-metropolis of Butler, PA. It's the birthplace of the Jeep and a former player in the international steel marketplace; now it resembles nothing so much as the small town of Blaine, immortalized in the movie Waiting for Guffman. It is also my parents' hometown and the place that 98% of my immediate relatives call home. Of my extended family, my brother and I are the only two of the lot lucky enough to have escaped being raised here via our stint as indentured servants (military brats) of the U.S. Navy.

While I realize that a corner in Hell is likely freezing over at this moment, I feel compelled to note that I'm genuinely grateful for the fact that I didn't grow up here and am not stuck living here now.

There. At least I've confessed this in some fashion and I might get through the two remaining days of my visit without risking irreparable harm.

Some examples of the surreal details experienced during the past week:

* All of the "deer crossing" signs sport buckshot detailing.
* The only businesses surviving in the five-block downtown core of Main Street are bars and taverns.
* The theater where I watched the very first Star Wars movie is now closed (the only one located downtown).
* I've confirmed beyond a doubt that I am the only female among the dozens of cousins who has yet to have an illegitimate child (and some of the second cousins are now starting to cross that line).
* I'm the only female in the family with a career still.

I've been in my Dad's company for six days now. I am on the "downhill slide" towards 40, but the litany of complaints never seems to change -- it's unbelievable. The part that galls me the most is being constantly and subtly derided for not doing things "his way" when my parents both made a consistent effort raise me to be independent and to think for myself; it's a never-ending Catch-22. It's a paradox -- I'm a success, but I'm not right. I realize that I have a snowball's chance in Hell of making him happy, but a little acceptance would be a welcomed change.

Only two minor differences are worth noting this time around... After spending the better part of two days' time working on/teaching Dad about the computer I'd built for him last summer, my perception is that I'm finally worthy in some small manner in his eyes. And I got him to watch an episode of South Park last night (what's the point in being the changeling of the family if I can't be subversive every now and again?). To keep the peace, however, I'm required to suffocate my personality; I think I've finally realized that I'm only really capable of doing so for about three days' time max -- next time I'll be certain to pack Valium along with the migraine meds.

I spent a week prior to this "homecoming" being high-strung and seriously depressed. While I'm here, my acting skills are tested, my sense of self splinters and fragments into shards and my mind seems to shift into some sort of bland/benign auto-pilot. It's not a vacation, visiting this place... At least it makes me grateful to return to the place I call home, no matter how absurd that reality may be at times. In some ways, it might just be the ultimate "rebirthing."

I have decided this time around that the next time my family sees me, it'll have to be on my turf. I've been out of the house for 20 years now and it's time for a change.

And, at the risk of being maudlin, one more thing... I miss ya, Shoeboy. You have no clue how lucky you are.