See, I draw the line at including the word "pooper" in the title of this post. The body, apparently, is fair game. But please, let me elaborate...
We had a Super Bowl party yesterday, just as we've done the two previous years. Though the Evite response was a little more lukewarm than I hoped it would be, we still had plenty of friends over-- enough to fill our living room and eat most of the (crazy amount of) food I made. And, of course, we invited my dad. He can always be counted on to bring the beer, and generally gets along with our friends, plus he always gets crazy excited about gatherings. He called about a week ago, asking if he could bring "a friend." Thinking that it would be one of his work friends that I'd already met, I asked who, and was told that his guest would be "a female." He confessed that he felt really awkward asking me in the first place, so I didn't press him for more information...though maybe I should have.
When he and The Guest arrived, only one of our other friends (one I've known since 6th grade, so knows the sad tale of my parents' divorce and my dad's lack of love life for the last, oh...decade) was there. They got out of the car, and when I let them in it was immediately clear that she was a good bit younger than he is. Now, my dad isn't the oldest of parents (next to GP's, my parents are children) at 53, but the fact is that both of his children are in their 20s. The Guest appeared to be, at the oldest, in her early 30s. We found out later that she was 28, which (and sorry for the all-caps) IS HOW OLD GP IS. Let me repeat this: SHE IS AS OLD AS MY HUSBAND. AND APPEARS TO BE DATING MY FATHER. I love my dad and everything, but here is the thing: he isn't wealthy (by any stretch of the imagination), he doesn't really have any "game," and he's not that good-looking. Any attraction that she might have to him is a complete mystery to me. And she is cute! What on earth is going on?
But I was determined to be a good hostess. We welcomed The Guest into our home, introduced her to all the friends in attendance (including two who are, like her, from the Seattle area). And then, at some point, it became clear that she was aiming pretty pointed comments at one of our friends...one who she had previously seemed to be getting along with just fine.
Let's have a pause to talk about the sense of humor that exists between me and GP, between us and our friends, and between us and my dad: we give each other a hard time. It is good-natured, and clearly so, and it is rare (nearly unprecedented) that someone actually takes us seriously. It seems practically impossible to me that anyone would think that they were being personally attacked by the jokes (jokes y'all!!) that we're making.
Back to the story. It's the third, maybe fourth quarter, of the game. There is shouting, cheering, heckling, what have you. The Guest is insisting that Peyton Manning is "her boyfriend," (take a number, bitch) which means that, upon every Colts snap, she begins baby-talking. "Come on, honey! You can do it, baby!" Shit that's funny the first, second, maybe the third time. But not, my friends, in the last ten minutes of the game. Our friend, J, says something to the effect of, "We get it, dude," and is met with scattered comments from The Guest that J is "so negative." Any comment that J makes is met with some little remark: "Of course you would say that." (Which, what the fuck. You just met.) And then, finally, the huffiest of huffs: "You know, J, not everyone is a FEMINIST!"
Hold the phone. This thing came out of nowhere. Seriously. Also, you came here with my dad, who I have marched alongside in Washington, D.C. chanting, "This is what a feminist looks like." Clearly someone's signals have been crossed. Oh, also...my dad was out of the room at the time.
J, not being one to shy away from confrontation, turns and says that there is clearly an issue that The Guest has with her, and can they please just have it out and be done? And The Guest says-- you guys are going to love this-- "You couldn't handle it." Would it surprise you to know that, at this point, I wanted to drag her out of the room by her ear?
My dad and The Guest left about fifteen minutes later (shockingly, it felt like a fricking eternity), and that's when the discussion began. What was that? Well, let's give her the benefit of the doubt: it's her first time meeting all these people, maybe she was nervous, maybe she had too much to drink, clearly she took something personally, maybe she doesn't get out humor, etc. Allow me, however, to freak out a little. When you are meeting people for the first time-- especially the child of someone you're dating-- don't you want to make a good impression. If she is actually just a friend (though my dad described her to GP's mom as a "special friend"), there is just no excuse for that. As for the "too much to drink" excuse...I don't buy it. You're a fucking adult. Keep your shit together.
I'm waiting for my dad to call and solicit feedback-- it seems too terrible to call him and go, "Yeah, The Guest? We completely hated her." And of course, when he does ask, I will be honest and tactful. Because, though I am two years younger than The Guest, I know the value of adult communication. Short of a pretty intense apology (because you do not come in to my house and act incredibly rude to my friends), I have no desire to give The Guest a second chance.
Thanks for making it all the way through this rant, if you actually did. Now, tell me, am I being a total crazypants? Or do you think I'm right to want to slap The Guest right across her bony little face?
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Monday, February 8, 2010
Saturday, September 12, 2009
In which I feel like a narcissist
(Which is sort of moot, this being a blog and all.)
Anyway. Last month, my mom and Grandma threw me a gorgeous shower at a local mansion, and asked everyone to wear hats. It was an adorable theme, and I got some sweet gifts. I hadn't blogged about it yet because I was waiting on the pictures from my photographer, who came to shoot us for about an hour. Much to my great delight, he had the pictures ready yesterday-- and here are some of my favorites:
Um, ok. I make this face a lot. I am, probably thanks to (and much to the great chagrin of) my mother, a terrible eye-roller. Like, to the point where she would say, "Don't roll your eyes at me!" When my back was to her. Moms are magic, aren't they? Anyway, now it is something I do to convey strong emotion of any kind. In this case, joy. Or maybe anticipation, who knows.
Between my mom and GP's mom, who made the trip across the country to come to the shower. Bet you can guess who is who!
Seriously, how cute is my Grandma? If you answered, "Quite," then you are correct.
Here, two thirds of my bridal party are seeking shelter under my enormous hat. (Notice that they both wimped out and are wearing fancy headbands.)
The only bouquet I will ever throw, because I think that it's sort of a mean tradition. At the wedding, we'll be giving the "toss" bouquet to the couple in attendance that's been married the longest (might be my aunt and uncle, or maybe even GP's parents!).
Finally, all the ladies together! I am usually sort of "meh" about group photos, because invariably someone is blinking or making a weird face...but this one ended up very nicely, I think.
Anyway. Last month, my mom and Grandma threw me a gorgeous shower at a local mansion, and asked everyone to wear hats. It was an adorable theme, and I got some sweet gifts. I hadn't blogged about it yet because I was waiting on the pictures from my photographer, who came to shoot us for about an hour. Much to my great delight, he had the pictures ready yesterday-- and here are some of my favorites:
Um, ok. I make this face a lot. I am, probably thanks to (and much to the great chagrin of) my mother, a terrible eye-roller. Like, to the point where she would say, "Don't roll your eyes at me!" When my back was to her. Moms are magic, aren't they? Anyway, now it is something I do to convey strong emotion of any kind. In this case, joy. Or maybe anticipation, who knows.
Between my mom and GP's mom, who made the trip across the country to come to the shower. Bet you can guess who is who!
Seriously, how cute is my Grandma? If you answered, "Quite," then you are correct.
Here, two thirds of my bridal party are seeking shelter under my enormous hat. (Notice that they both wimped out and are wearing fancy headbands.)
The only bouquet I will ever throw, because I think that it's sort of a mean tradition. At the wedding, we'll be giving the "toss" bouquet to the couple in attendance that's been married the longest (might be my aunt and uncle, or maybe even GP's parents!).
Finally, all the ladies together! I am usually sort of "meh" about group photos, because invariably someone is blinking or making a weird face...but this one ended up very nicely, I think.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Divorce, marriage...and tv
I was twelve-- nearly thirteen-- when my parents divorced. When they sat down with me and my brother on the deck of our house, whatever warm late-summer evening it might have been, telling us that they had decided to end their marriage after seventeen years, I was not surprised. More than anything, I was relieved. I'm sure there was a time when my parents liked each other, probably even loved each other, but that time had since passed, and now my dad had taken to sleeping on the couch. It was upsetting to watch them constantly be at each others' throats, and worse yet that the arguments managed to continue even after they weren't even in the same place-- there was a lot of under-the-breath commenting in the laundry room, in the car on the way to school, as one watered the lawn and the other, each just wanting out.
I write these things, of course, from the perspective of someone who has lived roughly half of her life with divorced parents. And I will repeat-- I was relieved. I knew, even then, that the marriage wasn't making either of them happy, and that it was beyond the point of being salvaged. I was relieved then and feel pretty lucky now that everything that followed went the way it did: my dad moved out, but never missed an opportunity to be around for me and my brother; my mom eventually remarried a man who makes her happy and truly cares about us, all of us, as a family; my once-broken and now reformed (mutated?) family that includes me, my mom, my dad, my stepdad, my brother, and a stepsister, regularly splits holidays and attends special events together, with no ruffled feathers or raised voices. I am incredibly lucky.
As GP and I move closer and closer to our wedding date, I am thinking more and more about the ideas I was presented about love and marriage growing up: love is a leap of faith, and marriage requires constant attention and nurturing. We are not religious people, GP and I, but we believe in love as if it were a prayer, an altar, a relic. I am not daunted by what my parents went through-- I am hopeful that I have learned the lessons available to me on both what to do and what not to do. I will be the wife that I want and need to be...minus the occasional disagreement over taking out the trash (boy chore!) or washing the dishes as a team (just leave me alone, it gets done faster that way!).
_________________________________________________________________
And yes, of course I have to comment on the media-saturated divorce of Jon and Kate (of "Plus Eight" fame). I became a fan within the last year, but loved to watch all! those! cute! kids! Also, sometimes Kate would remind me of my mom, all Type-A and whatnot. It was easy to see how their marriage would be challenging-- twins before even a couple years of marriage, and eight children before either of them was thirty would be enough to drive any couple apart. It was hard to watch last night's "special announcement" (which-- come on, there is the internet now, how are we possibly going to be surprised by this news?) episode because, in separate interviews, neither of them took any of the responsibility. "I'm here for the kids," each said. And me? Well, Jon and Kate, I am here to call bullshit. I would have loved to have seen them at least attempt to talk about their problems together (hey, like grownups!), and am sort of dreading the episode when they tell the kids about it (you know it's coming! It's going to be awful!). Did you watch? What did you think?
I write these things, of course, from the perspective of someone who has lived roughly half of her life with divorced parents. And I will repeat-- I was relieved. I knew, even then, that the marriage wasn't making either of them happy, and that it was beyond the point of being salvaged. I was relieved then and feel pretty lucky now that everything that followed went the way it did: my dad moved out, but never missed an opportunity to be around for me and my brother; my mom eventually remarried a man who makes her happy and truly cares about us, all of us, as a family; my once-broken and now reformed (mutated?) family that includes me, my mom, my dad, my stepdad, my brother, and a stepsister, regularly splits holidays and attends special events together, with no ruffled feathers or raised voices. I am incredibly lucky.
As GP and I move closer and closer to our wedding date, I am thinking more and more about the ideas I was presented about love and marriage growing up: love is a leap of faith, and marriage requires constant attention and nurturing. We are not religious people, GP and I, but we believe in love as if it were a prayer, an altar, a relic. I am not daunted by what my parents went through-- I am hopeful that I have learned the lessons available to me on both what to do and what not to do. I will be the wife that I want and need to be...minus the occasional disagreement over taking out the trash (boy chore!) or washing the dishes as a team (just leave me alone, it gets done faster that way!).
_________________________________________________________________
And yes, of course I have to comment on the media-saturated divorce of Jon and Kate (of "Plus Eight" fame). I became a fan within the last year, but loved to watch all! those! cute! kids! Also, sometimes Kate would remind me of my mom, all Type-A and whatnot. It was easy to see how their marriage would be challenging-- twins before even a couple years of marriage, and eight children before either of them was thirty would be enough to drive any couple apart. It was hard to watch last night's "special announcement" (which-- come on, there is the internet now, how are we possibly going to be surprised by this news?) episode because, in separate interviews, neither of them took any of the responsibility. "I'm here for the kids," each said. And me? Well, Jon and Kate, I am here to call bullshit. I would have loved to have seen them at least attempt to talk about their problems together (hey, like grownups!), and am sort of dreading the episode when they tell the kids about it (you know it's coming! It's going to be awful!). Did you watch? What did you think?
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
The most wonderful time...
What with the election over (bittersweet, really, because Prop 8 looks like it's going to pass in CA, and that just makes me sick to my stomach), it is officially time to start looking forward to the Holidays. Yes, Halloween is over, and judging from the displays just about everywhere, we'll be skipping Thanksgiving this year and heading straight for holly and tinsel. No? Fine, then. We'll talk about Thanksgiving, instead.
I love Thanksgiving. Because I am a ridiculous sap, and definitely do not take time to think about incorporating gratitude into my everyday life (in between episodes of Jon and Kate Plus 8), I an thankful for Thanksgiving. Really, it's like Valentine's Day, but with less chocolate and more gravy. Probably slightly less sex, but that's really up to you. I have been alternating Thanksgivings between my parents since they split up (I think that was...10 years ago?), and luckily that will likely continue post-marriage because GP's parents live in New York, which is just far too far to travel for a holiday based on eating (presents, I will travel for). This year we will be celebrating with my dad's side, at my aunt's house in Modesto. Modesto is a slightly terrifying town in the Central Valley, which is about as red as California gets-- very, very socially conservative and whatnot, and they have the distinction of being the former stomping grounds of both Gary Condit and Scott Peterson. Woo, Modesto. My aunt's cooking, however, makes up for all that-- she's been doing Thanksgiving so long that she's basically a pro, which means turkey and ham, as well as all the obligatory sides, but dessert is really the star. (When is it not?) Pie as far as the eye can see, cookies, and some pineapple/Jell-o/whipped cream concoction that I can never re-create. I'm salivating just thinking about it...
Two questions, y'all:
1) What's your favorite Thanksgiving dinner food?
2) What are you thankful for?
P.S. Bonus! Because my boss at the library internship is Canadian, we got to celebrate Canadian Thanksgiving there a few weeks ago. There were bacon-wrapped green beans, and I almost melted with pleasure.
I love Thanksgiving. Because I am a ridiculous sap, and definitely do not take time to think about incorporating gratitude into my everyday life (in between episodes of Jon and Kate Plus 8), I an thankful for Thanksgiving. Really, it's like Valentine's Day, but with less chocolate and more gravy. Probably slightly less sex, but that's really up to you. I have been alternating Thanksgivings between my parents since they split up (I think that was...10 years ago?), and luckily that will likely continue post-marriage because GP's parents live in New York, which is just far too far to travel for a holiday based on eating (presents, I will travel for). This year we will be celebrating with my dad's side, at my aunt's house in Modesto. Modesto is a slightly terrifying town in the Central Valley, which is about as red as California gets-- very, very socially conservative and whatnot, and they have the distinction of being the former stomping grounds of both Gary Condit and Scott Peterson. Woo, Modesto. My aunt's cooking, however, makes up for all that-- she's been doing Thanksgiving so long that she's basically a pro, which means turkey and ham, as well as all the obligatory sides, but dessert is really the star. (When is it not?) Pie as far as the eye can see, cookies, and some pineapple/Jell-o/whipped cream concoction that I can never re-create. I'm salivating just thinking about it...
Two questions, y'all:
1) What's your favorite Thanksgiving dinner food?
2) What are you thankful for?
P.S. Bonus! Because my boss at the library internship is Canadian, we got to celebrate Canadian Thanksgiving there a few weeks ago. There were bacon-wrapped green beans, and I almost melted with pleasure.
Monday, October 27, 2008
The winding-down of Barack-tober
Yeah, that's right...I am not even going to mess around with the Rock-tober promises, because this month has been too full of The Busy to apply any such term to it. However, there were some highlights, including:
-a haircut, with deep conditioner treatment that was kicked into the deal and totally blew my mind. Sure, I am annoyed with my sort-of side-bangs now, but at the time? I was so excited about my hair.
-attending the last wedding of 2008, and possibly the last one before my own, which is a scary thought. No, we haven't picked a date (because it turns out I fail at wedding planning so far-- no decisions have been made), but we have heard nothing and gotten nary a Save the Date, so I'm thinking it might be a year-long wedding drought.
-rocking the hell out of most of my Library School assignments. Turns out I have found my calling, even though I still think distance learning is pretty isolating.
-carving the best jack-o-lantern ever. Seriously, friends, all I need now is a couple others that say "No on 8" and "No on 4" (because I loooove gays and hate babies! No wait, only one of those is true), and I will be an official commie. Is it election time yet?
Now, for the lowlights:
-being near tears during a timed online assignment because my professor had given such poor directions that I was almost entirely unprepared for the damn thing. I have survived, but we will see what the grading gods think of my efforts.
-finding out that my 18-year-old stepsister had gotten married in mid-July. Oh, and I found this out...in mid-August. From my mom and stepdad...who had found out only a few days previous. If I felt that this marriage was in any way based on some sort of adult, mature, well-reasoned decision, I might be a bit more supportive. As it is now...well, it hurts to think that one's sibling wouldn't deign to notify her family of her marriage.
-working two jobs sucks. I even did the math, see? Two part-time jobs + graduate school < one full-time job
Am I being too ambitious when I am even considering doing NaBloPoMo?
-a haircut, with deep conditioner treatment that was kicked into the deal and totally blew my mind. Sure, I am annoyed with my sort-of side-bangs now, but at the time? I was so excited about my hair.
-attending the last wedding of 2008, and possibly the last one before my own, which is a scary thought. No, we haven't picked a date (because it turns out I fail at wedding planning so far-- no decisions have been made), but we have heard nothing and gotten nary a Save the Date, so I'm thinking it might be a year-long wedding drought.
-rocking the hell out of most of my Library School assignments. Turns out I have found my calling, even though I still think distance learning is pretty isolating.
-carving the best jack-o-lantern ever. Seriously, friends, all I need now is a couple others that say "No on 8" and "No on 4" (because I loooove gays and hate babies! No wait, only one of those is true), and I will be an official commie. Is it election time yet?Now, for the lowlights:
-being near tears during a timed online assignment because my professor had given such poor directions that I was almost entirely unprepared for the damn thing. I have survived, but we will see what the grading gods think of my efforts.
-finding out that my 18-year-old stepsister had gotten married in mid-July. Oh, and I found this out...in mid-August. From my mom and stepdad...who had found out only a few days previous. If I felt that this marriage was in any way based on some sort of adult, mature, well-reasoned decision, I might be a bit more supportive. As it is now...well, it hurts to think that one's sibling wouldn't deign to notify her family of her marriage.
-working two jobs sucks. I even did the math, see? Two part-time jobs + graduate school < one full-time job
Am I being too ambitious when I am even considering doing NaBloPoMo?
Monday, June 16, 2008
The value of fathers
I know that I am lucky to have such a close and strong relationship with both my dad and my stepdad-- I am well aware of the conflicts and schisms that exist in other father/child relationships. I definitely appreciated it very acutely this past weekend, as every news program was a retrospective of Time Russert's career, Russert himself the consummate family man, successful in his career, but grounded by the love he felt for his namesake father, as well as the sheer joy derived from having a son that he was proud to call his own. In Tim Russert, I saw a lot of both of my father figures: he was passionate about life, always willing to share a story, and just brimming with pride that he had been blessed with the life that he had. Watching the unending news coverage Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, I was constantly in a state of near-tears. This could have been my dad, could have been my stepdad, could have been any number of men in that same age bracket that have impacted any number of lives.
My dad spent Saturday night with us, in "his room," where we have our office/guest room. When I went in on Sunday morning to see if he was up, I found him watching Meet the Press and crying. You all know this already, most likely, but seeing your father cry is among the hardest things you will ever have to witness. My dad being the softhearted guy that he is, this was not the first time; I had seen him weep from sadness as my childhood dog was put to sleep, and with joy as I graduated from high school and college (my mom, conversely, was dry-eyed both times...because she is a total bad-ass). What made Sunday morning difficult was that I knew he was crying because he felt like he had lost a friend, a comrade-in-arms, who had lived through the same years that he had, and shared the common joys of family and country, that so many of our fathers feel. I sat next to him and rested my head on his shoulder, tearing up myself, and feeling so grateful that he was right there with me, sharing this loss and appreciating the relationship that we have.
I know that this election year will be a little quieter, a little empty, without Tim Russert's joy at each step of the way, but I also know that I will love it no less, sharing each state's electoral results with my two dads, who represent both ends of the political spectrum (sorry, stepdad, there is no way in hell I am supporting McCain...I am truly my father's daughter, hippie leanings and all).
My dad spent Saturday night with us, in "his room," where we have our office/guest room. When I went in on Sunday morning to see if he was up, I found him watching Meet the Press and crying. You all know this already, most likely, but seeing your father cry is among the hardest things you will ever have to witness. My dad being the softhearted guy that he is, this was not the first time; I had seen him weep from sadness as my childhood dog was put to sleep, and with joy as I graduated from high school and college (my mom, conversely, was dry-eyed both times...because she is a total bad-ass). What made Sunday morning difficult was that I knew he was crying because he felt like he had lost a friend, a comrade-in-arms, who had lived through the same years that he had, and shared the common joys of family and country, that so many of our fathers feel. I sat next to him and rested my head on his shoulder, tearing up myself, and feeling so grateful that he was right there with me, sharing this loss and appreciating the relationship that we have.
I know that this election year will be a little quieter, a little empty, without Tim Russert's joy at each step of the way, but I also know that I will love it no less, sharing each state's electoral results with my two dads, who represent both ends of the political spectrum (sorry, stepdad, there is no way in hell I am supporting McCain...I am truly my father's daughter, hippie leanings and all).
Friday, June 6, 2008
Best day I've had in awhile, actually
(Not that my life is that terrible, I swear! Today was pretty great, though-- I feel like a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders.)
1. Idle hands are either baked goods, or a good, long Girls Next Door mini-marathon on Tivo (Bridget is my favorite-- don't judge me!) waiting to happen,
2. I love exfoliating and singing in the shower.
3. My favorite time of the day is when I first get home from work and pour the first glass of wine, feeling the weight of the day slide off my back. (Feeling so weighty today, aren't I?)
4. The last tea I drank was some Breakfast Americana that I had this morning. Coffee has been making my stomach angry recently, and tea never does, so it is my morning beverage of choice these days.
5. I like to read outside on our balcony, slathered with SPF 45 in the Summer. Yes, I am pale and nerdy in all seasons!
6. My mother always said, "Beauty is not quick, easy, or painless." And you know what? She was right. My mom is one smart lady.
7. And as for the weekend, tonight I’m looking forward to getting creative with dinner (we are out of obvious meal makings, and I am refusing to grocery shop before we leave town) and buying a brand new suitcase (!!!), tomorrow my plans include a trip up to the City to visit some friends and do some drinking, and Sunday, I want to laugh until I hurt as I watch America's Funniest Videos. Now you know my secret shame, internets.
Oh, and to clarify the travel plans in the preceding post-- we are going to NY strictly for GP's sister's Big Fat Armenian Wedding and related festivities (into EWR on the day of the rehearsal, hanging out with family, then doing the whole wedding thing), and then heading to Paris a day or so later. NYC activities, I'm afraid, are out. But-- if you have a good response to the "So when are you guys getting married?" question, fire away. I don't want to have one too many drinks and end up punching some defenseless aunt.
1. Idle hands are either baked goods, or a good, long Girls Next Door mini-marathon on Tivo (Bridget is my favorite-- don't judge me!) waiting to happen,
2. I love exfoliating and singing in the shower.
3. My favorite time of the day is when I first get home from work and pour the first glass of wine, feeling the weight of the day slide off my back. (Feeling so weighty today, aren't I?)
4. The last tea I drank was some Breakfast Americana that I had this morning. Coffee has been making my stomach angry recently, and tea never does, so it is my morning beverage of choice these days.
5. I like to read outside on our balcony, slathered with SPF 45 in the Summer. Yes, I am pale and nerdy in all seasons!
6. My mother always said, "Beauty is not quick, easy, or painless." And you know what? She was right. My mom is one smart lady.
7. And as for the weekend, tonight I’m looking forward to getting creative with dinner (we are out of obvious meal makings, and I am refusing to grocery shop before we leave town) and buying a brand new suitcase (!!!), tomorrow my plans include a trip up to the City to visit some friends and do some drinking, and Sunday, I want to laugh until I hurt as I watch America's Funniest Videos. Now you know my secret shame, internets.
Oh, and to clarify the travel plans in the preceding post-- we are going to NY strictly for GP's sister's Big Fat Armenian Wedding and related festivities (into EWR on the day of the rehearsal, hanging out with family, then doing the whole wedding thing), and then heading to Paris a day or so later. NYC activities, I'm afraid, are out. But-- if you have a good response to the "So when are you guys getting married?" question, fire away. I don't want to have one too many drinks and end up punching some defenseless aunt.
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Officially a wino
Better late than never, right? As you know (or should, at least, because I couldn't shut up about it), we went to Sonoma last weekend for Mother's Day with my mom and stepdad, my brother, and GP's parents. We had been planning a fun weekend full of wine tasting and delicious food, and that is exactly what we got! Oh, and all my worrying about mom competitions? Certainly for naught. I don't think that our parents are going to be forming drum circles or anything, but having them get along for a period longer than, say, a meal (which was the length of their previous exposure to each other), was encouraging.
Saturday began early, as we wanted to get on the road by 8 in order to make it to our northernmost winery destination by 10, which is when they open. After picking up GP's parents at their hotel, we made our way up the East Bay, past Berkeley and Oakland, and then over the Richmond-San Rafael bridge into the North Bay. As we got closer to the wineries, my brother called and told me that they were two cars behind us, so our planning worked out really well. The first winery we went to was St. Francis, which had a beautiful backyard-type area behind it, as well as a pretty gorgeous main building. Their wines were all right, but the girl who was pouring was basically ignoring us. If you haven't been tasting, you need to know that it isn't like going to a bar; of course, you are drinking, and have the potential to be quite smashed by about noon, but the people pouring are supposed to interact with you, as it is their job to make you want to buy the wine.
Winery number two was the polar opposite, though. We got there right at the time that they were beginning their cave tour, so we got to see the caves where they keep their barrels, which are really cool. It didn't hurt that it had started to heat up and the caves were at least 10 degrees cooler than outside. Going into their tasting room, we noticed that they had a specific area for a VIP-style tasting, and being the snobs (and cheese enthusiasts!) that we are, we seated ourselves on their classy leather sofas and sipped our four tastes (for a fairly-steep $20, but come on! There was cheese involved!). This was when the buying started, too. When GP and I go tasting in Napa, we might come home with half a case or so, total, of wines that we tried and liked. When we go to Amador County wine events, we might bring home a bit more than a case, because it is cheaper there (but still good wine!). When we were there this weekend, we came away with three cases of wine. I blame the parents-- my parents are huuuuge wine collectors (we're talking hundreds of bottles here, multiple winery memberships), and his parents are members of a couple Sonoma wineries, even though they live in New York.
We stopped at a cute Italian deli/cafe place for something to soak up all the wine we'd consumed (we are not apt to pour anything out unless it is pretty gross), and then headed off to another winery, where I got to hang out with the Official Winery Dog while we tasted. Being the smart animal that he is, he had decided to take a nap on the cool, tiled tasting room floor to escape the heat...right on one of my feet. Thanks, dog.
The families split after this, because my parents wanted to visit just one more place and then go to the hotel to rest before dinner, so GP and I and his parents headed, ambitiously, to three more places.
Pretty exhausted, we tucked into dinner at a place I had been eager to try, and made the (totally too-long) drive back to our hotel, where I am proud to say I passed out before 9pm. It had been a loooooong day.
The next morning, after having presented both moms with presents and spending some time hanging out at the hotel bar for mimosas and Bloody Marys, we made our way to , where GP's parents are members. We skipped the tour, having chosen some morning drinking instead, but got there in time to sample some Blanc de Noirs before we were seated for brunch. The brunch was surprising-- I had expected maybe a buffet or a range of options, but we all ended up with the same salad with bay shrimp, lamb, and fresh fruit trifle (no beef sauteed with peas and onions, sorry!). Other than the lamb being so rare it was near-bleating (woo, homonyms! Get it?), everything was very delicious. After our meal, we sat outside and tasted while enjoying a great view of the entire valley.
All in all, a successful weekend. Carrying the wine from the car to the apartment was a bit of a pain, but I'm pretty certain we won't need to buy anything until we go back to Amador for their Fall Crush event. The only problem now is that we have all these nice wines and only a couple "occasions" coming up... I'm sure we'll manage, though.
Saturday began early, as we wanted to get on the road by 8 in order to make it to our northernmost winery destination by 10, which is when they open. After picking up GP's parents at their hotel, we made our way up the East Bay, past Berkeley and Oakland, and then over the Richmond-San Rafael bridge into the North Bay. As we got closer to the wineries, my brother called and told me that they were two cars behind us, so our planning worked out really well. The first winery we went to was St. Francis, which had a beautiful backyard-type area behind it, as well as a pretty gorgeous main building. Their wines were all right, but the girl who was pouring was basically ignoring us. If you haven't been tasting, you need to know that it isn't like going to a bar; of course, you are drinking, and have the potential to be quite smashed by about noon, but the people pouring are supposed to interact with you, as it is their job to make you want to buy the wine.
Winery number two was the polar opposite, though. We got there right at the time that they were beginning their cave tour, so we got to see the caves where they keep their barrels, which are really cool. It didn't hurt that it had started to heat up and the caves were at least 10 degrees cooler than outside. Going into their tasting room, we noticed that they had a specific area for a VIP-style tasting, and being the snobs (and cheese enthusiasts!) that we are, we seated ourselves on their classy leather sofas and sipped our four tastes (for a fairly-steep $20, but come on! There was cheese involved!). This was when the buying started, too. When GP and I go tasting in Napa, we might come home with half a case or so, total, of wines that we tried and liked. When we go to Amador County wine events, we might bring home a bit more than a case, because it is cheaper there (but still good wine!). When we were there this weekend, we came away with three cases of wine. I blame the parents-- my parents are huuuuge wine collectors (we're talking hundreds of bottles here, multiple winery memberships), and his parents are members of a couple Sonoma wineries, even though they live in New York.
We stopped at a cute Italian deli/cafe place for something to soak up all the wine we'd consumed (we are not apt to pour anything out unless it is pretty gross), and then headed off to another winery, where I got to hang out with the Official Winery Dog while we tasted. Being the smart animal that he is, he had decided to take a nap on the cool, tiled tasting room floor to escape the heat...right on one of my feet. Thanks, dog.
The families split after this, because my parents wanted to visit just one more place and then go to the hotel to rest before dinner, so GP and I and his parents headed, ambitiously, to three more places.
Pretty exhausted, we tucked into dinner at a place I had been eager to try, and made the (totally too-long) drive back to our hotel, where I am proud to say I passed out before 9pm. It had been a loooooong day.
The next morning, after having presented both moms with presents and spending some time hanging out at the hotel bar for mimosas and Bloody Marys, we made our way to , where GP's parents are members. We skipped the tour, having chosen some morning drinking instead, but got there in time to sample some Blanc de Noirs before we were seated for brunch. The brunch was surprising-- I had expected maybe a buffet or a range of options, but we all ended up with the same salad with bay shrimp, lamb, and fresh fruit trifle (no beef sauteed with peas and onions, sorry!). Other than the lamb being so rare it was near-bleating (woo, homonyms! Get it?), everything was very delicious. After our meal, we sat outside and tasted while enjoying a great view of the entire valley.
All in all, a successful weekend. Carrying the wine from the car to the apartment was a bit of a pain, but I'm pretty certain we won't need to buy anything until we go back to Amador for their Fall Crush event. The only problem now is that we have all these nice wines and only a couple "occasions" coming up... I'm sure we'll manage, though.
Saturday, May 10, 2008
New slang
As promised, here is the short tale of how I learned that my mother was aware of the meaning of "hollaback girl"-- honestly, I have to admit that I wasn't entirely sure what it meant until she told me.
Mom: Hey, you know that Gewn Stefani song, "Hollaback Girl," with the bananas?
Me: Oh, yeah! You know I like songs with spelling in them.
Mom: I guessed you would like it. Anyway, I used to think that she was saying "holla-fat" girl, and I had no idea what that meant. But then one of my teachers [my mom is an elementary school administrator] told me. Do you know what a "hollaback girl" is?
Me: Can't say that I do, lady. [This was mostly true. I had a vague idea, but couldn't wait to see what she would say.]
Mom: It's like, when there's a guy who gives a girl a booty call [Dude, my mom just said "booty call," and I am dying inside.], and she, you know..."holla"s back. You know, calls him or gives him the booty call or whatever.
Me: [dies]
...and, scene.
Up next, some multi-mom wine-tasting! Oh, and I will tell the tale of a humiliating Mother's Day event that happened at my high school workplace (that is, where I worked in high school, not that my current workplace is...oh, forget it).
Have a great weekend, lovelies!
Mom: Hey, you know that Gewn Stefani song, "Hollaback Girl," with the bananas?
Me: Oh, yeah! You know I like songs with spelling in them.
Mom: I guessed you would like it. Anyway, I used to think that she was saying "holla-fat" girl, and I had no idea what that meant. But then one of my teachers [my mom is an elementary school administrator] told me. Do you know what a "hollaback girl" is?
Me: Can't say that I do, lady. [This was mostly true. I had a vague idea, but couldn't wait to see what she would say.]
Mom: It's like, when there's a guy who gives a girl a booty call [Dude, my mom just said "booty call," and I am dying inside.], and she, you know..."holla"s back. You know, calls him or gives him the booty call or whatever.
Me: [dies]
...and, scene.
Up next, some multi-mom wine-tasting! Oh, and I will tell the tale of a humiliating Mother's Day event that happened at my high school workplace (that is, where I worked in high school, not that my current workplace is...oh, forget it).
Have a great weekend, lovelies!
Monday, May 5, 2008
Coordinated
There will be a post later today about the Jesus-like sandals I am sporting today (seriously, you will see when I get around to it), but right now I have to talk about this Labor of Love weekend that I am arranging for Mother's Day. GP's parents will be here, so that means that I get to negotiate the potential in-law and my mom/stepdad situation, on a weekend that can tend to be a very "loaded" one.
Now, I will not pretend that GP's mom is in any way my mother-in-law, but the fact is that more likely than not, she will be eventually. I really enjoy her, and she has always been very sweet and generous with me, so I know I could be doing a lot worse in that department. My mom and I are also close; she and my stepdad live within 15 minutes of us, and we often have Sunday dinners with them. What I am worried about is the degree of competition that could erupt during this weekend between the two moms-- I am having to walk the line that says, "I appreciate you, [GP's mom], but mom, you are really the best," but in a way that doesn't pit them against each other in the Mother of the Year race. Because GP is much less "into" Mother's Day than I am, I will be putting together "Queen For a Day" weekend-y gift bags for both moms, complete with cards, wine-tasting itineraries, and assorted small gifts. True, we are paying for the brunch that we'll be having Sunday morning, but I think they will appreciate the bags and the sentiment behind them.
How do married women deal with this? I am sweating bullets in my air-conditioned office, trying to decide what separate-but-equal gifts I can put in these bags, and how to balance the Mother's Day merriment so that everyone has a good time. I may be overanalyzing and worrying too much-- after all, we will be wine tasting. How bad can it be?
If you have any advice about the two-mom/family Mother's Day juggling act (or just want to tell me to stop worrying or at least just shut up about it), leave it in the comments!
Now, I will not pretend that GP's mom is in any way my mother-in-law, but the fact is that more likely than not, she will be eventually. I really enjoy her, and she has always been very sweet and generous with me, so I know I could be doing a lot worse in that department. My mom and I are also close; she and my stepdad live within 15 minutes of us, and we often have Sunday dinners with them. What I am worried about is the degree of competition that could erupt during this weekend between the two moms-- I am having to walk the line that says, "I appreciate you, [GP's mom], but mom, you are really the best," but in a way that doesn't pit them against each other in the Mother of the Year race. Because GP is much less "into" Mother's Day than I am, I will be putting together "Queen For a Day" weekend-y gift bags for both moms, complete with cards, wine-tasting itineraries, and assorted small gifts. True, we are paying for the brunch that we'll be having Sunday morning, but I think they will appreciate the bags and the sentiment behind them.
How do married women deal with this? I am sweating bullets in my air-conditioned office, trying to decide what separate-but-equal gifts I can put in these bags, and how to balance the Mother's Day merriment so that everyone has a good time. I may be overanalyzing and worrying too much-- after all, we will be wine tasting. How bad can it be?
If you have any advice about the two-mom/family Mother's Day juggling act (or just want to tell me to stop worrying or at least just shut up about it), leave it in the comments!
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Happy PB&J Day!
No, seriously! Slashfood says it's National Peanut Butter and Jelly Day, so who am I to argue? I'm feeling a little lazy, maybe even to the point where I might consider a PB&J an acceptable dinner. And really, I have to be observant of the holiday! Let's just hope that the bread I bought I-don-t-remember-how-long-ago is still edible. Otherwise it will be some yet-to-be named substitute surrounding my delicious peanut butter and jelly concoction.
I apologize for the lack of coherence recently, but I am so scrambled between work (crazy scheduling needs, and why should it be easy for people to remember to return an email?), planning Mother's Day weekend (multiple moms, and my and GP's parents all together in Sonoma over a weekend-- my palms are already sweaty just thinking about it. Thank god there will be wine.), and sort-of-planning GP's graduation dinner (which shouldn't be that much of an ordeal-- it's just 13 people for crying out loud!), that I have little time to dwell on those, "hey, that would be a cool post" ideas. I do have a shoe-related one that I'm rolling around, so we'll see where that goes. I'm a little annoyed at myself for writing about not writing, but here we are. Maybe I need another cup of coffee...or an early tea time today.
I apologize for the lack of coherence recently, but I am so scrambled between work (crazy scheduling needs, and why should it be easy for people to remember to return an email?), planning Mother's Day weekend (multiple moms, and my and GP's parents all together in Sonoma over a weekend-- my palms are already sweaty just thinking about it. Thank god there will be wine.), and sort-of-planning GP's graduation dinner (which shouldn't be that much of an ordeal-- it's just 13 people for crying out loud!), that I have little time to dwell on those, "hey, that would be a cool post" ideas. I do have a shoe-related one that I'm rolling around, so we'll see where that goes. I'm a little annoyed at myself for writing about not writing, but here we are. Maybe I need another cup of coffee...or an early tea time today.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
2 quick things!
Thing #1: I got a call from my uncle yesterday evening, and the biopsy that was done on Mark's lung has come back benign. They are still going to re-biopsy and treat it, even if only with laproscopic surgery, but right now I am cautiously optimistic. Thank you all for your kind words and thoughts.
Thing #2: This woman was in my office about fifteen minutes ago, teary-eyed and telling me a story about how she is from Bakersfield and works cleaning houses, but got fired from that job, and her boyfriend beats her up (this woman had bruises and lacerations on her arms and face, so there was little doubt as to her veracity), and she's three months pregnant and diabetic, and can I please help her pay for one more night in the motel where she's staying until her sister comes to pick her up? I know that's a long sentence, but it was a long story, and she was near-crying the whole time. Folks, if you want me to empty my wallet for you, you need to, a) be a victim of domestic violence, b) be pregnant and trying to escape the aforementioned situation, and c) nearly crying. My will is weak, and my wallet is usually light on cash, but I will do everything short of driving you back to Bakersfield (that's where I draw the line-- Bakersfield sucks) to help you out. "Megan, you're an idiot. She was clearly lying," you might say. Well, let's look at this from both sides, then. If she was lying, I gave her $18 for her and/or her abusive boyfriend's drug/alcohol habit, which will continue to destroy at least a few lives. If she was telling the truth, then I helped out at least two people today, and for less than $20. If there is change either way, I would like to think that I either helped shift it toward the positive in a big way, or didn't do too much harm to an already terrible situation.
What do you think? Am I a sucker?
Thing #2: This woman was in my office about fifteen minutes ago, teary-eyed and telling me a story about how she is from Bakersfield and works cleaning houses, but got fired from that job, and her boyfriend beats her up (this woman had bruises and lacerations on her arms and face, so there was little doubt as to her veracity), and she's three months pregnant and diabetic, and can I please help her pay for one more night in the motel where she's staying until her sister comes to pick her up? I know that's a long sentence, but it was a long story, and she was near-crying the whole time. Folks, if you want me to empty my wallet for you, you need to, a) be a victim of domestic violence, b) be pregnant and trying to escape the aforementioned situation, and c) nearly crying. My will is weak, and my wallet is usually light on cash, but I will do everything short of driving you back to Bakersfield (that's where I draw the line-- Bakersfield sucks) to help you out. "Megan, you're an idiot. She was clearly lying," you might say. Well, let's look at this from both sides, then. If she was lying, I gave her $18 for her and/or her abusive boyfriend's drug/alcohol habit, which will continue to destroy at least a few lives. If she was telling the truth, then I helped out at least two people today, and for less than $20. If there is change either way, I would like to think that I either helped shift it toward the positive in a big way, or didn't do too much harm to an already terrible situation.
What do you think? Am I a sucker?
Friday, March 21, 2008
The cruelest month
To misquote T.S. Eliot, "March is the cruelest month." Sorry, T.S., but my cruelest month comes a little early every year.
Two years ago, it was when I found out that my sister was going to stop the treatment that she had been undergoing for non-Hodgkin's lymphoma. I mustered the nerve to write about it here, and got some more catharsis here and here. Really, it was just the beginning of the gut-wrenching parade that March would become infamous for.
Last year, it was a call from an aunt to tell me that my father had been in the hospital for a week, due to a 10+ cm basal-cell skin cancer on his back (that he had known about for at least a year, and was in pathological denial about). My father had been in the hospital for a week, and hadn't seen fit to call me, to let me know anything about it. I sobbed during much of the phone call, and completely lost it when I hung up, and ultimately, I was mad. I was angry at him for thinking that I would be bothered with this news, instead of wanting to drive as fast as I could out to the Central Valley to be by his side during multiple surgeries, skin grafts, blood samples, and crummy hospital meals. When I finally called him later that evening, on the phone in his hospital room, I started the conversation by asking him if he'd seen any of the recent basketball games (my dad is more of a rabid Bruin fan than I am, even though he's not a UCLA alum). From there, I decided that a good, "What the hell?" was in order, and a healthy amount of crying into the phone, again. I am pleased to say that my dad (my stupid, stubborn, denial-ridden, clinically-depressed, light-of-my-freaking-life dad) is doing well now, is missing many, many cancerous and precancerous skin irregularities, and is, above all, still alive.
This year, to continue the streak, I get a call from my uncle. This is my dad's brother, the one who is gay and was an extra parent to me when I was a kid (and continues to be, even when I am less of a handful to babysit), who has had his partner for longer than I have been alive. He leaves me this message, saying that they had been in the south coast (Cambria, I later found out), and that Mark, his partner, is sick, and call back, "maybe tomorrow evening or something." The next day after work, I gave him a call back, and within the first thirty seconds, learn that Mark, my "uncle" and extra-extra parent, has lung cancer. This is no surprise, really, because both of them have been smoking for at least thirty-five years, but it never seems quite as real as it should be. How do you begin to absorb, "Mark has lung cancer. He coughed up a bit of blood, and he's had a chest x-ray, a CAT scan, and a biopsy. We don't know the results yet, but we do know that it's in his lymph nodes, around his trachea"? How do you pull yourself into the reality of, "I think what they'll do is start chemo, and then do a surgery," when all you want to do is crawl into that small, black box that's "safe" from these things that you knew damn well were coming, but still aren't ready for?
I, of course, have to be the one to tell my brother, just like I had to tell him about our dad. And I will have to tell my mom, who was close to them when my parents were together, who is only a couple months older than Mark. I will have to make a trip out to Stockton with Greg, who has only met them once, and I will have to get my brain around the fact that this is real, that this is happening, and that I have to be a grownup about it.
I'm sorry that this is such a stormcloud of a post-- I swear there are wonderful things happening in my world, too, but I need to get this out before I can talk about any great things that happen to be going on. I promise, y'all, that I'll be reporting back about delicious food and good spa times had by all, in the near future.
Two years ago, it was when I found out that my sister was going to stop the treatment that she had been undergoing for non-Hodgkin's lymphoma. I mustered the nerve to write about it here, and got some more catharsis here and here. Really, it was just the beginning of the gut-wrenching parade that March would become infamous for.
Last year, it was a call from an aunt to tell me that my father had been in the hospital for a week, due to a 10+ cm basal-cell skin cancer on his back (that he had known about for at least a year, and was in pathological denial about). My father had been in the hospital for a week, and hadn't seen fit to call me, to let me know anything about it. I sobbed during much of the phone call, and completely lost it when I hung up, and ultimately, I was mad. I was angry at him for thinking that I would be bothered with this news, instead of wanting to drive as fast as I could out to the Central Valley to be by his side during multiple surgeries, skin grafts, blood samples, and crummy hospital meals. When I finally called him later that evening, on the phone in his hospital room, I started the conversation by asking him if he'd seen any of the recent basketball games (my dad is more of a rabid Bruin fan than I am, even though he's not a UCLA alum). From there, I decided that a good, "What the hell?" was in order, and a healthy amount of crying into the phone, again. I am pleased to say that my dad (my stupid, stubborn, denial-ridden, clinically-depressed, light-of-my-freaking-life dad) is doing well now, is missing many, many cancerous and precancerous skin irregularities, and is, above all, still alive.
This year, to continue the streak, I get a call from my uncle. This is my dad's brother, the one who is gay and was an extra parent to me when I was a kid (and continues to be, even when I am less of a handful to babysit), who has had his partner for longer than I have been alive. He leaves me this message, saying that they had been in the south coast (Cambria, I later found out), and that Mark, his partner, is sick, and call back, "maybe tomorrow evening or something." The next day after work, I gave him a call back, and within the first thirty seconds, learn that Mark, my "uncle" and extra-extra parent, has lung cancer. This is no surprise, really, because both of them have been smoking for at least thirty-five years, but it never seems quite as real as it should be. How do you begin to absorb, "Mark has lung cancer. He coughed up a bit of blood, and he's had a chest x-ray, a CAT scan, and a biopsy. We don't know the results yet, but we do know that it's in his lymph nodes, around his trachea"? How do you pull yourself into the reality of, "I think what they'll do is start chemo, and then do a surgery," when all you want to do is crawl into that small, black box that's "safe" from these things that you knew damn well were coming, but still aren't ready for?
I, of course, have to be the one to tell my brother, just like I had to tell him about our dad. And I will have to tell my mom, who was close to them when my parents were together, who is only a couple months older than Mark. I will have to make a trip out to Stockton with Greg, who has only met them once, and I will have to get my brain around the fact that this is real, that this is happening, and that I have to be a grownup about it.
I'm sorry that this is such a stormcloud of a post-- I swear there are wonderful things happening in my world, too, but I need to get this out before I can talk about any great things that happen to be going on. I promise, y'all, that I'll be reporting back about delicious food and good spa times had by all, in the near future.
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