No Time for Nationalism
0 Comments Published by Oh Wayward One on 30 January 2006 at 1/30/2006 07:00:00 pm.
To make a long story short, I have no time for overly nationalistic people.
Ireland is full of some of the most nationalistic, patriotic people in the world. And (HA!) this coming from an American.
Even the ones I have kindof a: "well-they're-my-friend-so-they've-gotta-be-pretty-levelheaded" attitude about, they always end up pulling a fast one on me and turning all psycho-patriotic on me. It boggles my mind how some of my friends can spend so much of their time bitching at me at how silly the yankees are... all hot-n-impassioned about taking over the world and spreading god's ferverent wave of freedom and liberty and americanness to all non-americans, and what what what. But then in the same breath they start spouting all republican (as in Irish, not Elephant-ish) propoganda and indoctrination shite-- like it's not the exact same damn thing.
Fi, for example. How is it that someone so smart can get it so messed up. I mean this is my buddy with the BIG FAT DEGREE IN SCIENCE. WTF?! And there he/she sits at lunch, whinging on the nationalistic soapbox about Croke Park (the holy GAA grounds in Dublin) and how english sports (soccer, rugby) shouldn't be allowed to be played there (they haven't since I dunno, the beginning of time?) . But see, the thing is, the national rugby/soccer stadium is being re-built. This is gonna take 10 years. During that time, they're gonna HAVE to let the other sports be played in Croker. Now all of nationalist republican Ireland is up in arms:
"And dere's nooooooo weeaayyy under my granny's dead body, like, dat dey'll ever sing da English nat'inal antem in da Croker, boy" ... Because god forbid when the national teams play each other, like they do every year, in soccer and rugby, etc.... should they play "God Save the Queen" (the british national anthem, duh) like they do for EVERY OTHER COUNTRY... in Croke Park. Why? Because about a hundred years ago, during the WAR, some british soldiers killed 14 Irishmen in the stadium.
So, what, they're gonna change the rules of 2 world sports and say that every national team gets their anthem played before each game EXCEPT THE ENGLISH!??!?! Dude is all like: "yeah, and if they DO end up playing that song, everyone is going to BOO. And I know *I* will be, too. Because they just shouldn't do it, like". !
Fuckin BUILD A BRIDGE, people. Get the HELL over it, JEEZ like you oughtta move to Texas or something.
UGH.
I thought the Australians were bad. Oh hell, I know I'm the one with the problem, this is what happens when you tend to wander and you don't know what nationalisim feels like, yourself, anymore. You start to think "well feck it, if *I* dont have nationalisit sentiment, then can the rest of ye clowns cut it out too, please?" But come ON. It was like, a million YEARS ago. jeeeezzzus
Ireland is full of some of the most nationalistic, patriotic people in the world. And (HA!) this coming from an American.
Even the ones I have kindof a: "well-they're-my-friend-so-they've-gotta-be-pretty-levelheaded" attitude about, they always end up pulling a fast one on me and turning all psycho-patriotic on me. It boggles my mind how some of my friends can spend so much of their time bitching at me at how silly the yankees are... all hot-n-impassioned about taking over the world and spreading god's ferverent wave of freedom and liberty and americanness to all non-americans, and what what what. But then in the same breath they start spouting all republican (as in Irish, not Elephant-ish) propoganda and indoctrination shite-- like it's not the exact same damn thing.
Fi, for example. How is it that someone so smart can get it so messed up. I mean this is my buddy with the BIG FAT DEGREE IN SCIENCE. WTF?! And there he/she sits at lunch, whinging on the nationalistic soapbox about Croke Park (the holy GAA grounds in Dublin) and how english sports (soccer, rugby) shouldn't be allowed to be played there (they haven't since I dunno, the beginning of time?) . But see, the thing is, the national rugby/soccer stadium is being re-built. This is gonna take 10 years. During that time, they're gonna HAVE to let the other sports be played in Croker. Now all of nationalist republican Ireland is up in arms:
"And dere's nooooooo weeaayyy under my granny's dead body, like, dat dey'll ever sing da English nat'inal antem in da Croker, boy" ... Because god forbid when the national teams play each other, like they do every year, in soccer and rugby, etc.... should they play "God Save the Queen" (the british national anthem, duh) like they do for EVERY OTHER COUNTRY... in Croke Park. Why? Because about a hundred years ago, during the WAR, some british soldiers killed 14 Irishmen in the stadium.
So, what, they're gonna change the rules of 2 world sports and say that every national team gets their anthem played before each game EXCEPT THE ENGLISH!??!?! Dude is all like: "yeah, and if they DO end up playing that song, everyone is going to BOO. And I know *I* will be, too. Because they just shouldn't do it, like". !
Fuckin BUILD A BRIDGE, people. Get the HELL over it, JEEZ like you oughtta move to Texas or something.
UGH.
I thought the Australians were bad. Oh hell, I know I'm the one with the problem, this is what happens when you tend to wander and you don't know what nationalisim feels like, yourself, anymore. You start to think "well feck it, if *I* dont have nationalisit sentiment, then can the rest of ye clowns cut it out too, please?" But come ON. It was like, a million YEARS ago. jeeeezzzus
Still more reflection. . .
0 Comments Published by Oh Wayward One on 28 January 2006 at 1/28/2006 02:07:00 pm.
. . . It's been 3 weeks, and there's still things swirling and eventually settling in my head. From the christmas/new years holiday. When you get back there's just so much to take care of and catch up on, that it's like the mind-chaos is not totally over until you're well and truly back into your routine. THEN the important soundbytes and tidbits start to settle to the bottom, to be really looked at.
Like one thing I've been thinking a lot lately is about the sheer number of people I saw back home who have become parents since I left, and how that affects me. Or them. I suppose this is also fallout from the new "addition" of the niece - offspring on the mind.
There's 2 people in particular that I've been thinking a lot about, probably because they give me hope and make me proud. These 2 are old old old girlfriends of mine (not just from high school but from like, the BEGINNING of high school, even!) who've gone and done all sorts of cool stuff from since we kind of drifted away from teenagerdom. I got to hang out with 'em both in Missouri while we were back, plus meet their respective new offspring. One's got 2 and one's got 1 kid now.
What sticks out the most in my mind about visiting with my 2 chicas, was how they were both able to overwhelmingly be just that: normal girls. Not mommy-martyrs. It was great. I'll never forget how great it was to sit and drink beer OUT on the town, and talk about life and love and people and places and ups + downs with this one mamma, and it wasn't all like "oh let me tell you what Junior did last week" every 2 minutes, or "oh gush gush gush about my babies whatever" and "oh Junior #2 is so unbelievable because he poops in the potty". In fact, if my memories aren't too clouded by the Pale Ale, I might even go as far as to say that child-related chit-chat was kept to darn near 0%. I was over the moon. It says to me: there is hope. It says to me: my friends are COOL. It says to me: these are people who invited kids into their LIFE; who didn't EXCHANGE their life, for kids. It says:
Most of all, with these 2 gals in particular, I didn't feel like I was a "token" social component in their universes that revolved around something FAR more important than old friends from back in the old days. Hell, man, we had FUN. Like genuine, "they are still really fun" fun. I felt like I was still *someone*... worthy.
YES! Although this sounds a bit mel0dramatic, the truth is, I have mom-friends who (I know) only keep that one person or two in their social life after parenthood, for the sheer purpose of being able to say "look, see, I still DO have a social friend". Believe me, I tend to BE that token friend for some reason. Maybe it's because I'm always willing to go out for coffee, with anyone. WHo knows. These relationships normally involve intricately-scheduled outings, 1 time on a (intricately-scheduled) monthly basis for exactly 2 hours -or long enough to have 2 cappuccinos- to listen to the baby-update, to force a non-child-related conversation or MAYBE 2 out of each other, in order for mom to prove to anyone she talks to in the next week or so that "I still have a semi-life!". It's something then they can tell everyone "oh yeah, I still go out all the time, like, with jill or whatever" but they don't give a shit about what's going on in my life or anything, they still make 3 calls in 2 hours on the cellphone to grandma or whoever's watching the kid, their eyes are constantly on the clock, it's just..... GONE, and the awkwardness is just, AGH! (note to self: after typing, get rid of excess baggage!!!!)
Whatever. I found out this xmas that I still have 2 cool friends from way back who give moms a great name. One of 'em still drinks beer, wears rockstar boots, can talk about anything and everything under the sun, and will laugh and laugh and laugh with you all day about the same shit that you do. The other one of 'em is even dumping the kids at granny's for TWO WEEKS (with no hang-ups whatsoever!!) to come all the way over here and visit ME!
On a sepearate note: These 2 friends of mine couldn't be more different from each other, but they have 1 thing in common that I noticed. They both treat their spousal relationship as (it appeared to me, at least) something sacred. I know at least with one of 'em, we spent far more time talking (over our beers) about our "boys" than... well, her BOYS. And by the same token, the other one said something amazing to me: "as far as we see it, the husband and wife relationship is still the primary one. When we had the baby, we never intended to have our relationship with her overpower the one that we've spent so many years fine-tuning and making great." I was impressed.
The truth is out: it's possible. I'm feeling quite chuffed with myself for getting this shit sorted out in my head.
Plus I'm quite chuffed with (particularly 2 of) my mom-girlfriends back home. They are indeed fabulous. And inspirational.
Like one thing I've been thinking a lot lately is about the sheer number of people I saw back home who have become parents since I left, and how that affects me. Or them. I suppose this is also fallout from the new "addition" of the niece - offspring on the mind.
There's 2 people in particular that I've been thinking a lot about, probably because they give me hope and make me proud. These 2 are old old old girlfriends of mine (not just from high school but from like, the BEGINNING of high school, even!) who've gone and done all sorts of cool stuff from since we kind of drifted away from teenagerdom. I got to hang out with 'em both in Missouri while we were back, plus meet their respective new offspring. One's got 2 and one's got 1 kid now.
What sticks out the most in my mind about visiting with my 2 chicas, was how they were both able to overwhelmingly be just that: normal girls. Not mommy-martyrs. It was great. I'll never forget how great it was to sit and drink beer OUT on the town, and talk about life and love and people and places and ups + downs with this one mamma, and it wasn't all like "oh let me tell you what Junior did last week" every 2 minutes, or "oh gush gush gush about my babies whatever" and "oh Junior #2 is so unbelievable because he poops in the potty". In fact, if my memories aren't too clouded by the Pale Ale, I might even go as far as to say that child-related chit-chat was kept to darn near 0%. I was over the moon. It says to me: there is hope. It says to me: my friends are COOL. It says to me: these are people who invited kids into their LIFE; who didn't EXCHANGE their life, for kids. It says:
Most of all, with these 2 gals in particular, I didn't feel like I was a "token" social component in their universes that revolved around something FAR more important than old friends from back in the old days. Hell, man, we had FUN. Like genuine, "they are still really fun" fun. I felt like I was still *someone*... worthy.
YES! Although this sounds a bit mel0dramatic, the truth is, I have mom-friends who (I know) only keep that one person or two in their social life after parenthood, for the sheer purpose of being able to say "look, see, I still DO have a social friend". Believe me, I tend to BE that token friend for some reason. Maybe it's because I'm always willing to go out for coffee, with anyone. WHo knows. These relationships normally involve intricately-scheduled outings, 1 time on a (intricately-scheduled) monthly basis for exactly 2 hours -or long enough to have 2 cappuccinos- to listen to the baby-update, to force a non-child-related conversation or MAYBE 2 out of each other, in order for mom to prove to anyone she talks to in the next week or so that "I still have a semi-life!". It's something then they can tell everyone "oh yeah, I still go out all the time, like, with jill or whatever" but they don't give a shit about what's going on in my life or anything, they still make 3 calls in 2 hours on the cellphone to grandma or whoever's watching the kid, their eyes are constantly on the clock, it's just..... GONE, and the awkwardness is just, AGH! (note to self: after typing, get rid of excess baggage!!!!)
Whatever. I found out this xmas that I still have 2 cool friends from way back who give moms a great name. One of 'em still drinks beer, wears rockstar boots, can talk about anything and everything under the sun, and will laugh and laugh and laugh with you all day about the same shit that you do. The other one of 'em is even dumping the kids at granny's for TWO WEEKS (with no hang-ups whatsoever!!) to come all the way over here and visit ME!
On a sepearate note: These 2 friends of mine couldn't be more different from each other, but they have 1 thing in common that I noticed. They both treat their spousal relationship as (it appeared to me, at least) something sacred. I know at least with one of 'em, we spent far more time talking (over our beers) about our "boys" than... well, her BOYS. And by the same token, the other one said something amazing to me: "as far as we see it, the husband and wife relationship is still the primary one. When we had the baby, we never intended to have our relationship with her overpower the one that we've spent so many years fine-tuning and making great." I was impressed.
The truth is out: it's possible. I'm feeling quite chuffed with myself for getting this shit sorted out in my head.
Plus I'm quite chuffed with (particularly 2 of) my mom-girlfriends back home. They are indeed fabulous. And inspirational.
Friday we became Aunt and Uncle for the first time ever. Given that the mancakes comes from a family of 6 kids, it ain't gonna be the last time either. But it is the first time thus far.
It is with mixed emotions that I now relegate myself to being Aunt J. (or sorry, I suppose we're all Nederlandse praaten in this particular sense, so shall I say "Tante J.")
The underlying current of weirdness being that we don't exactly gel with the Brother in Law. Newbie's dad. When there's 6 siblings in a family, it's no suprise not everyone is best mates with eachother. Oh no. now picture the yin and the yang-est of the 6, and THAT would be my dearly beloved, and his brother, Fruitcake.
The mom is great. submissive in a way (or two), but great.
Secondly, we have a distinct phobia-- Pedophobia. Fear of babies. Children. People's offspring. whatever. With several (but limited) exceptions, of course. There are some great kids out there that we know. But don't make me admit it. So no, I'm not (truthfully, "we're" not) gushing and slobbering and jumping up and down or begging for the great tsunami of baby photos to come crashing our way*. Quite frankly, I'm thinking of putting a digital-photo-spam filter on my inbox, gearing up for what's undoubtedly about to happen.
*Did I mention this is the first grandchild/niece/baby of any kind whatsoever of this generation, in this family? Come on - you tell me, am I exaggerating????
Whatever. What I REALLY hate, is the name. OK , I am unhealthily OBSESSED with names. I may not be a "baby person", but I am hooked on human names. Like, pondering the semantics or ideas or justification or reasoning behind the name that a parent gives to his/her child. It keeps me occupied for hours. HOURS!! I love analyzing the major baby name trends for each year (in Ireland last year, BTW, it was "Emily" for a girl and "James" for a boy. ) I love trash-talking silly phoneticly-spelled madey-uppy names like_"Keylee"and"Daydree", with my friends. I love trying to analyze & understand what the bloody hell would be going through someone's mind at the time they give their new baby girl a name like "Caoimhe" (Irish name of course. Pronounced "KWEE-vah", naturally). Whatever. Opinionated me. I just obsess over names.
Which brings me to my new niece.L-o-b-k-e----as in "rhymes with Blob-kuh". Middle name Anna, assumedly after the many generations of Annas in my husband's family. Dont even get me started on the repeat-o-generational naming game. BTW: I do not have a problem with names just because they aren't english... heck, Anneke (my MIL) is a great dutch name. As long as you live in NL you don't have to spell it for 30000 people per year over the phone or at school or whatever. (There are some pretty messed up Frisian names, BTW, though... Jelmer,Jelle,Jelte,Joke,Fokke,Gooitzen,Reinouw,Foppe... I could go on and on-Blobke is one of them. It's one of those ancient names that only someone in the 1800's would be named. In english, it would be like naming your little kid "Tillie" or "Myrtle") Again, me getting all opinionated ("to each his own" I know! I Know!) and what not but MY POINT IS THEY GOT THE NAME FROM THE DEAD FAMILY DOG. Yes the family dog that died in 2001 at age 3, after severe heart failure followed by subsequent drowning in the shallow canal on the farm. THAT wasLobke. And, look, I know if you ask Fruitcake and the Mrs., they would say "no we did not name her after the dog", but the fact remains there hasn't been a Slobke running around in the whole of Friesland since the 1800s. Or so we believe. Which is why it made such a cute name for a dog. So obviously it's not like they were inspired by someone down the street. Oh can I just say that in my extreme confusion and quandary over this name choice, I decided "what the hell, I'll google it". Let's see what we got:
http://home.hetnet.nl/~c-suijker/lobke_foto.htm
There ye go. Need I say more.
(I think that's a wombat)
The funny thing is that I bet the parents are stewing in their own juices that the kids didn't pick a family name. hee heh. That makes me laugh.
Whatever, I just have to get past the whole anti-baby thing at some stage. And I know I will. I know I'm a compassionate person who likes everybody for the most part, and just because my hubby and his bro don't get along doesnt mean this kid should get an aunt/uncle who doesnt like her. I know, I know. And just because we can't look at her or think about her without either laughing or picturing a hairy, bumbling German Standard having a heart attack and falling into a canal, doesn't mean that we won't buy her all the several thousands of euros worth of gratuitous presents and toys that every kid exploits from their various extended family members....
And I'm prepared for the fallout... kid is gonna have the whole Family W. fawning all over her-- they already all live in the same village with all the other aunts and uncles and cousins and grandparents, etc... so can I just say: it's going to be spoiled rotten before it even gets teeth? But especially by my In-Laws. My MIL is so addicted to babies she had to have 6 herself. We can forget about ever hearing from them again as long as the new little thing is around. But then again, that was never really our "thing" anyway. Preferring our low-profile in the fambly, we weren't all that crazy about what little intermittant attention we DID get there anyway. God knows this might distract them from trying to talk us out of moving to Botswana. Hmmm, actually maybe now they won't even care because they have their new precious package to obsess over! Hey! Everybody wins!
Friggin more baby presents to buy. Bollocks!
Stuffed dog...
It is with mixed emotions that I now relegate myself to being Aunt J. (or sorry, I suppose we're all Nederlandse praaten in this particular sense, so shall I say "Tante J.")
The underlying current of weirdness being that we don't exactly gel with the Brother in Law. Newbie's dad. When there's 6 siblings in a family, it's no suprise not everyone is best mates with eachother. Oh no. now picture the yin and the yang-est of the 6, and THAT would be my dearly beloved, and his brother, Fruitcake.
The mom is great. submissive in a way (or two), but great.
Secondly, we have a distinct phobia-- Pedophobia. Fear of babies. Children. People's offspring. whatever. With several (but limited) exceptions, of course. There are some great kids out there that we know. But don't make me admit it. So no, I'm not (truthfully, "we're" not) gushing and slobbering and jumping up and down or begging for the great tsunami of baby photos to come crashing our way*. Quite frankly, I'm thinking of putting a digital-photo-spam filter on my inbox, gearing up for what's undoubtedly about to happen.
*Did I mention this is the first grandchild/niece/baby of any kind whatsoever of this generation, in this family? Come on - you tell me, am I exaggerating????
Whatever. What I REALLY hate, is the name. OK , I am unhealthily OBSESSED with names. I may not be a "baby person", but I am hooked on human names. Like, pondering the semantics or ideas or justification or reasoning behind the name that a parent gives to his/her child. It keeps me occupied for hours. HOURS!! I love analyzing the major baby name trends for each year (in Ireland last year, BTW, it was "Emily" for a girl and "James" for a boy. ) I love trash-talking silly phoneticly-spelled madey-uppy names like_"Keylee"and"Daydree", with my friends. I love trying to analyze & understand what the bloody hell would be going through someone's mind at the time they give their new baby girl a name like "Caoimhe" (Irish name of course. Pronounced "KWEE-vah", naturally). Whatever. Opinionated me. I just obsess over names.
Which brings me to my new niece.L-o-b-k-e----as in "rhymes with Blob-kuh". Middle name Anna, assumedly after the many generations of Annas in my husband's family. Dont even get me started on the repeat-o-generational naming game. BTW: I do not have a problem with names just because they aren't english... heck, Anneke (my MIL) is a great dutch name. As long as you live in NL you don't have to spell it for 30000 people per year over the phone or at school or whatever. (There are some pretty messed up Frisian names, BTW, though... Jelmer,Jelle,Jelte,Joke,Fokke,Gooitzen,Reinouw,Foppe... I could go on and on-Blobke is one of them. It's one of those ancient names that only someone in the 1800's would be named. In english, it would be like naming your little kid "Tillie" or "Myrtle") Again, me getting all opinionated ("to each his own" I know! I Know!) and what not but MY POINT IS THEY GOT THE NAME FROM THE DEAD FAMILY DOG. Yes the family dog that died in 2001 at age 3, after severe heart failure followed by subsequent drowning in the shallow canal on the farm. THAT wasLobke. And, look, I know if you ask Fruitcake and the Mrs., they would say "no we did not name her after the dog", but the fact remains there hasn't been a Slobke running around in the whole of Friesland since the 1800s. Or so we believe. Which is why it made such a cute name for a dog. So obviously it's not like they were inspired by someone down the street. Oh can I just say that in my extreme confusion and quandary over this name choice, I decided "what the hell, I'll google it". Let's see what we got:
http://home.hetnet.nl/~c-suijker/lobke_foto.htm
There ye go. Need I say more.
(I think that's a wombat)
The funny thing is that I bet the parents are stewing in their own juices that the kids didn't pick a family name. hee heh. That makes me laugh.
Whatever, I just have to get past the whole anti-baby thing at some stage. And I know I will. I know I'm a compassionate person who likes everybody for the most part, and just because my hubby and his bro don't get along doesnt mean this kid should get an aunt/uncle who doesnt like her. I know, I know. And just because we can't look at her or think about her without either laughing or picturing a hairy, bumbling German Standard having a heart attack and falling into a canal, doesn't mean that we won't buy her all the several thousands of euros worth of gratuitous presents and toys that every kid exploits from their various extended family members....
And I'm prepared for the fallout... kid is gonna have the whole Family W. fawning all over her-- they already all live in the same village with all the other aunts and uncles and cousins and grandparents, etc... so can I just say: it's going to be spoiled rotten before it even gets teeth? But especially by my In-Laws. My MIL is so addicted to babies she had to have 6 herself. We can forget about ever hearing from them again as long as the new little thing is around. But then again, that was never really our "thing" anyway. Preferring our low-profile in the fambly, we weren't all that crazy about what little intermittant attention we DID get there anyway. God knows this might distract them from trying to talk us out of moving to Botswana. Hmmm, actually maybe now they won't even care because they have their new precious package to obsess over! Hey! Everybody wins!
Friggin more baby presents to buy. Bollocks!
Stuffed dog...
xmas holiday photos
0 Comments Published by Oh Wayward One on 20 January 2006 at 1/20/2006 08:28:00 am.
In hindsight....
0 Comments Published by Oh Wayward One on 16 January 2006 at 1/16/2006 06:33:00 pm.
I guess it's silly that events such as going home for the holidays can affect one's head so much. Well at least it feels silly to me. But I think that's because I like to say that I don't care so much about anything, really. But then again, in fairness to my human tendencies, I don't go back stateside very often, and it IS a pretty big undertaking/event/happening when I do. For one reason or another, if even just the fact that I see people I care about, which I don't get to very often.
I feel like there's still so much that came out of a short 2-week stint, it's kinda trying to spill out in words so that I can
1) mull everything over, in a calm, organized manner now that I'm back to my "real life"
2) not forget.
I'm not exactly sure what I have to write about everything, but I feel like there's volumes there which I haven't quite yet come to terms with. And writing always helps, I realize.
Like for instance, my brother. J-bob. Bwudda-man. Dickhead. J-dogg.
He's a sad li'l guy right now. I have a hard time with this, because I still think of everything regarding J. in the "diminuative form". Like look, I can't even say "he's a bit depressed right now", rather, it feels better to write that he's a "sad li'l guy". I just can't see him as an adult and I know that I talk down to him for no good reason aside from the fact that he's just. . . . my little bro, J. And he doesn't necessarily deserve that, as a tax-paying, college graduate, fully employed 26 year old. Shit man when I was 26 I was married a year already. And quite the adult.... oh yes hmm sir I was so damned mature. (shuddering at youthful arrogance)
But back to J. He's not in a great space right now in his own head. Divorced at 25 (as yet still unforgiven by the parentals) followed by another Big breakup that wasn't quite a clean-enough break, hard time adjusting to city he doesnt like, never-ending turmoil with controlling/passive-agressive parents, work-related drama that he just can't shake, brand-spakin-new DWI, fairweather friends, money issues, etc. Mainly, I get the idea that he's just not "comfy" in his own skin at the moment. And the word "lonely" comes to mind. Man. I've been depressed before, I know it sucks. I probably need to take it that the guy is an adult, with adult problems now and I need to treat him like an adult. I can grasp that, I'm not an eejot, but it's hard.
I said (to him) a couple months ago that I'd be coming back to the motherland for 2 weeks, with one of those weeks designated strictly for Missouri. He promptly took all his holiday time that he had left, for that particular period. I think that's pretty nice of him. He did it to make sure we could spend some quality time together, as I had often noted (aggressively) that he hasn't spent 1 moment with his dear old sister WITHOUT EXCESS FEMALE BAGGAGE IN TOW, for over 6 years. The kid actually paid attention. Sweet.
So I got home, and there he was. With all the above turmoil in his life, he just needed me to hang out with him and listen... and/or NOT listen, maybe just drink beer & watch the Discovery channel. Whatever. And keep him from being lonely and sad. I guess you could say, a sisterly "distraction". And I wanted to, too. I mean, *I* was the one who'd been whinging for 5 years about how we never hang out anymore, how he wasn't "himself" anymore because of XYZ girl, who, additionally wouldn't let us have a proper "bro/sis relationship", how I never get to just hang out with HIM... so on and so on. Right, and here it was, a whole week to do just that - hang out & re-group as siblings. OK, so he didn't want to TALK about alllll the currently bad "stuff", he just wanted me to look after him for a week and help him FORGET about it. I felt so sorry for him. He's not an asshole, he's a good guy. He actually (I have a hard time believing this sometimes) paid attention those last few years in college and LEARNED a few things. Heck, he can even tell you a thing or two about art history, meteors, the lost city of Atlantis, and photography. It's amazing when I actually see him as a real. . . guy.
That week, I was amazed at how tightly he kinda... latched on. He would ask nicely if he could go out with me and my friends, even on totally-irrelevant-to-him gossip sessions. Wal-mart. The Bank. He even went on speed walks with me and the mancakes. (?!) I didn't mind it, in fact, that's what I'd been dreaming of all those 6 or so years we were estranged for one reason or another. But it meant he was sad. So I felt . . . bad. He just didn't want to be alone. Yeah, uncomfortable in his own skin. I see it now. Poor guy.
And here's the part where karma comes in... for most of the week, I was nearly always worried about making sure I could squeeze all MY needs into my limited days. Poor old J-bob was danglin' down around the region of Priority #10. I probably even referred to him as a liability or excess baggage at one stage or another (well not literally, probably just in my demeanor). I feel guilty now.
On the other hand, J isn't so much the analyser. His needs are pretty basic. (am I down-talking again?) He just wanted the company, and we got that taken care of. Plus some bonding in the meantime. Now it's probably just me, overreacting and ME putting myself in HIS situation and thinking "man that big sister should've been nicer to that little brother when she had the chance-- it could be years now - or never again". He's not really like that. He just wants to hang out and go to the bank with me. To avoid remembering that he's a bit uncomfortable and sad at the moment.
I guess I like him ok. I could've been nicer when we had the chance. Maybe I should give him a call more often...?
I feel like there's still so much that came out of a short 2-week stint, it's kinda trying to spill out in words so that I can
1) mull everything over, in a calm, organized manner now that I'm back to my "real life"
2) not forget.
I'm not exactly sure what I have to write about everything, but I feel like there's volumes there which I haven't quite yet come to terms with. And writing always helps, I realize.
Like for instance, my brother. J-bob. Bwudda-man. Dickhead. J-dogg.
He's a sad li'l guy right now. I have a hard time with this, because I still think of everything regarding J. in the "diminuative form". Like look, I can't even say "he's a bit depressed right now", rather, it feels better to write that he's a "sad li'l guy". I just can't see him as an adult and I know that I talk down to him for no good reason aside from the fact that he's just. . . . my little bro, J. And he doesn't necessarily deserve that, as a tax-paying, college graduate, fully employed 26 year old. Shit man when I was 26 I was married a year already. And quite the adult.... oh yes hmm sir I was so damned mature. (shuddering at youthful arrogance)
But back to J. He's not in a great space right now in his own head. Divorced at 25 (as yet still unforgiven by the parentals) followed by another Big breakup that wasn't quite a clean-enough break, hard time adjusting to city he doesnt like, never-ending turmoil with controlling/passive-agressive parents, work-related drama that he just can't shake, brand-spakin-new DWI, fairweather friends, money issues, etc. Mainly, I get the idea that he's just not "comfy" in his own skin at the moment. And the word "lonely" comes to mind. Man. I've been depressed before, I know it sucks. I probably need to take it that the guy is an adult, with adult problems now and I need to treat him like an adult. I can grasp that, I'm not an eejot, but it's hard.
I said (to him) a couple months ago that I'd be coming back to the motherland for 2 weeks, with one of those weeks designated strictly for Missouri. He promptly took all his holiday time that he had left, for that particular period. I think that's pretty nice of him. He did it to make sure we could spend some quality time together, as I had often noted (aggressively) that he hasn't spent 1 moment with his dear old sister WITHOUT EXCESS FEMALE BAGGAGE IN TOW, for over 6 years. The kid actually paid attention. Sweet.
So I got home, and there he was. With all the above turmoil in his life, he just needed me to hang out with him and listen... and/or NOT listen, maybe just drink beer & watch the Discovery channel. Whatever. And keep him from being lonely and sad. I guess you could say, a sisterly "distraction". And I wanted to, too. I mean, *I* was the one who'd been whinging for 5 years about how we never hang out anymore, how he wasn't "himself" anymore because of XYZ girl, who, additionally wouldn't let us have a proper "bro/sis relationship", how I never get to just hang out with HIM... so on and so on. Right, and here it was, a whole week to do just that - hang out & re-group as siblings. OK, so he didn't want to TALK about alllll the currently bad "stuff", he just wanted me to look after him for a week and help him FORGET about it. I felt so sorry for him. He's not an asshole, he's a good guy. He actually (I have a hard time believing this sometimes) paid attention those last few years in college and LEARNED a few things. Heck, he can even tell you a thing or two about art history, meteors, the lost city of Atlantis, and photography. It's amazing when I actually see him as a real. . . guy.
That week, I was amazed at how tightly he kinda... latched on. He would ask nicely if he could go out with me and my friends, even on totally-irrelevant-to-him gossip sessions. Wal-mart. The Bank. He even went on speed walks with me and the mancakes. (?!) I didn't mind it, in fact, that's what I'd been dreaming of all those 6 or so years we were estranged for one reason or another. But it meant he was sad. So I felt . . . bad. He just didn't want to be alone. Yeah, uncomfortable in his own skin. I see it now. Poor guy.
And here's the part where karma comes in... for most of the week, I was nearly always worried about making sure I could squeeze all MY needs into my limited days. Poor old J-bob was danglin' down around the region of Priority #10. I probably even referred to him as a liability or excess baggage at one stage or another (well not literally, probably just in my demeanor). I feel guilty now.
On the other hand, J isn't so much the analyser. His needs are pretty basic. (am I down-talking again?) He just wanted the company, and we got that taken care of. Plus some bonding in the meantime. Now it's probably just me, overreacting and ME putting myself in HIS situation and thinking "man that big sister should've been nicer to that little brother when she had the chance-- it could be years now - or never again". He's not really like that. He just wants to hang out and go to the bank with me. To avoid remembering that he's a bit uncomfortable and sad at the moment.
I guess I like him ok. I could've been nicer when we had the chance. Maybe I should give him a call more often...?
...and then there was Washington
0 Comments Published by Oh Wayward One on 15 January 2006 at 1/15/2006 06:02:00 pm.
After a week of interlude, I'm going to try and attempt to finish my travel journal (via blog) of the trip back to the US. I don't know why it's hard to sit down and actually do it, but I'm just . . . worthless.
Anyway, the new years eve party at my parents house was fun. I didn't get too wasted because I was in hostess-mode, and it's hard to concentrate on drinking when you want to make sure everyone ELSE is drinking. Naturally. Highlights of the evening included:
seeing people I haven't seen in years;
making drinks;
sexually harassing my little brother's friends Andy and Tony (who proceeded to get scared and leave before 11pm... something to do with -besides the sexual harassment- Andy's girlfriend who cracked the shits over something mysterious, and Tony finding the party severely low on baby-fresh single hoochie mammas);
my little brother taking to my selection of chillout music and french rap;
seeing my husband having a warm & cozy chat with an old boyfriend of mine from when I was 15 years old;
fireworks;
meeting my old friend MikeV's totally sweet wife;
tabulating the fact that there were more divorcees in my parents' kitchen at one time than ever recorded in the life of the house;
seeing my friend Crazy Sarah's husband actually enjoying a.) my robust-blend coffee, b.) Alex's company;
Heidi and Mike sticking around til 3am to help clean up;
and... hell I could go on but I gotta get to washington.
Right. New Years Day.
Don't remember exactly what happened but we got up and I just remember it being a balmy spring-weather day, eating steaks that dad grilled, and then saying a very emotional goodbye to my little bro who had to drive back to KC (who knows if we'll ever have a week together like that again?), of course after the obligatory fight between him and our parents over nothing. Anyway, the mominator and dad drove me and the man back to St. L. where we (the parents and I) would proceed to get in a fight in the car RIGHT before getting to the airport. Fabulous. JUST what I need to start the new year. But again, there's a reason for everything. For example: I had almost begun to second guess why I dis my mother to everyone who knows me, and refuse to come home more than once every 3-5 years. This 10 minute reality-check was able to remind me before I got too sad or upset. It was a very un-emotional goodbye at the dropoff point, complete with cold shoulder from the mominator and disappointed, sad eyes from the dad.
whatever. welcome to my world. it was over my distinct hatred of people shoving their cellphones into my face saying "here's jill, she wants to talk to you. here, talk to her!!!" ugh. I just dont CARE! Me and the H-man were off to the big Wash!!!
Arrived in DC where Beth had sent her ma & pa to come pick us up at the airport, as she was in dispose giving the most rock n' roll combo birthday-new-years-day cocktail party of the year (hahaha get it, the year? Jan 1st!? hahaha). It was totally cool of her to send Rich n' Jeanie to come fetch us. They buzzed us over to her swanky-ass bachelorette pad in Adams Morgan (my very favourite DC hood) where we proceeded to get our rocks on with all her posse, and Heidi and Mike turned up about an hour later, which was cool, as we had just seen them...at a cocktail party.... in missouri... which felt all very surreal. But now they're in DC. With MY friend, from my Austraila days, Beth... who recently has become THEIR friend Beth, too... Especially as they rocked up with the same bottle of Kahlua that they'd broght to MY party the day before, that we just hadn't tapped into, that night. Crazy stuff.
One of the highlights of THIS cocktail party was this friggin WEIRD mo' fo' who turned up with Beth's friend K. who proceeded to give H and I a friggin lecture on irish politics. No, the guy hasnt lived in ireland. No, the guy didn't have the facts he needed to be able to give this lecture. Yes, the guy was a wanker.... an amazingly wanky wanker. According to Dude, the IRA does not exist-- oh no, wait, it DOES exist.... as a peaceful organization who has no ties to illegal activity whatsoever. It's the "REAL IRA" (RIRA) who does all the bad stuff. And it's HIS ancestors who really suffered during the Troubles. No one else's. Oh, yeah, and according to Dude, the town of Ballyhaunis is 15 minutes away from Westport. um, yeah. plus an hour. whatever.
We shifted the party to the middle-eastern pizza slice place across the road (one counter and about 1,000 square feet of empty space, and 3 stools up against a wall), for a pizza slice that was as big as my ass, and then on to a bar down the street from that. Us + the 7 or 8 or so party goers from Beth's that were sitting at our table were having a whale of a time drinking greyhounds (gin & grapefruit), until we got kicked to the curb at closing.
Beth was a real champ and put us up in her luxuro-pad for 2 nights, and chaufferred us over DC so that Hannes could see the sights that he needed to see, especially now being an "honorary american". We ate Malaysian food, sushi, and drank copius quantities of Starbucks and/or Caribou Coffee.
Eventually Beth got to meet Ellen, and I chose to make the introduction at L'Enfent, also in Adams Morgan, a brillant bar with awesome belgian beers and a great happy hour deal. That same night we went out with Mike and Heidi and Ellen and Beth and Beth's "hot Sean" and Ellen (who hardly drinks anymore) got wasted and proceeded to be her loudmouth conversation-dominating self. It was funny. It was Ellen. Typical. (E gets verbal diahrrea when she drinks... and she doesn't drink much anymore.... so it doesn't take much.... to get her loaded & out of control).
The next 3 nights we bunked with M & H out at their place in the 'burbs. Was a terrible influence on Heidi. Forced her to take her first sickie ever. Stayed up way too late every night drinking mass portions of vodka and juice, or appletinis, and playing Cranium (an awesome trivia/general knowledge game), sleeping late, eating huge burritos for lunch. or smoothies. or taco bell. or whatever we wanted. They spoiled us too.
There was dinner out every night, there was drinking, there were more games, there was more socializing, more hitting the town. . . oh, and the fabulous middle-eastern style hooka bar on 18th street. What more could anyone want.
Oh yeah, the last night with Ellen. We stayed at her joint. Also in Adams Morgan. What was originally going to be a semi-mellow reunion with she and Oliver and me and the mancakes , followed maybe by some night cap with the rest of the gang, turned into yet another improptu-cocktail party at her house. Again Ellen proceeded to get wasted and act the arse but it was really fun and I think all the drama combined with gin and juice, plus a circa 1982-hour-long-PSA by Mr. T. playing on the dvd player in the background, worked a treat for keeping me from being sad about leaving the next day. It was good that all my DC posse was there in the same space, even the ones who had never met before, because all our goodbyes could be said in one go. Just like how it went down on NY's eve in Missouri. Well planned and efficient. Albeit very very sad.
Now we're back and have more to pontificate on, but that's all for later. Now I gotta work.
Anyway, the new years eve party at my parents house was fun. I didn't get too wasted because I was in hostess-mode, and it's hard to concentrate on drinking when you want to make sure everyone ELSE is drinking. Naturally. Highlights of the evening included:
seeing people I haven't seen in years;
making drinks;
sexually harassing my little brother's friends Andy and Tony (who proceeded to get scared and leave before 11pm... something to do with -besides the sexual harassment- Andy's girlfriend who cracked the shits over something mysterious, and Tony finding the party severely low on baby-fresh single hoochie mammas);
my little brother taking to my selection of chillout music and french rap;
seeing my husband having a warm & cozy chat with an old boyfriend of mine from when I was 15 years old;
fireworks;
meeting my old friend MikeV's totally sweet wife;
tabulating the fact that there were more divorcees in my parents' kitchen at one time than ever recorded in the life of the house;
seeing my friend Crazy Sarah's husband actually enjoying a.) my robust-blend coffee, b.) Alex's company;
Heidi and Mike sticking around til 3am to help clean up;
and... hell I could go on but I gotta get to washington.
Right. New Years Day.
Don't remember exactly what happened but we got up and I just remember it being a balmy spring-weather day, eating steaks that dad grilled, and then saying a very emotional goodbye to my little bro who had to drive back to KC (who knows if we'll ever have a week together like that again?), of course after the obligatory fight between him and our parents over nothing. Anyway, the mominator and dad drove me and the man back to St. L. where we (the parents and I) would proceed to get in a fight in the car RIGHT before getting to the airport. Fabulous. JUST what I need to start the new year. But again, there's a reason for everything. For example: I had almost begun to second guess why I dis my mother to everyone who knows me, and refuse to come home more than once every 3-5 years. This 10 minute reality-check was able to remind me before I got too sad or upset. It was a very un-emotional goodbye at the dropoff point, complete with cold shoulder from the mominator and disappointed, sad eyes from the dad.
whatever. welcome to my world. it was over my distinct hatred of people shoving their cellphones into my face saying "here's jill, she wants to talk to you. here, talk to her!!!" ugh. I just dont CARE! Me and the H-man were off to the big Wash!!!
Arrived in DC where Beth had sent her ma & pa to come pick us up at the airport, as she was in dispose giving the most rock n' roll combo birthday-new-years-day cocktail party of the year (hahaha get it, the year? Jan 1st!? hahaha). It was totally cool of her to send Rich n' Jeanie to come fetch us. They buzzed us over to her swanky-ass bachelorette pad in Adams Morgan (my very favourite DC hood) where we proceeded to get our rocks on with all her posse, and Heidi and Mike turned up about an hour later, which was cool, as we had just seen them...at a cocktail party.... in missouri... which felt all very surreal. But now they're in DC. With MY friend, from my Austraila days, Beth... who recently has become THEIR friend Beth, too... Especially as they rocked up with the same bottle of Kahlua that they'd broght to MY party the day before, that we just hadn't tapped into, that night. Crazy stuff.
One of the highlights of THIS cocktail party was this friggin WEIRD mo' fo' who turned up with Beth's friend K. who proceeded to give H and I a friggin lecture on irish politics. No, the guy hasnt lived in ireland. No, the guy didn't have the facts he needed to be able to give this lecture. Yes, the guy was a wanker.... an amazingly wanky wanker. According to Dude, the IRA does not exist-- oh no, wait, it DOES exist.... as a peaceful organization who has no ties to illegal activity whatsoever. It's the "REAL IRA" (RIRA) who does all the bad stuff. And it's HIS ancestors who really suffered during the Troubles. No one else's. Oh, yeah, and according to Dude, the town of Ballyhaunis is 15 minutes away from Westport. um, yeah. plus an hour. whatever.
We shifted the party to the middle-eastern pizza slice place across the road (one counter and about 1,000 square feet of empty space, and 3 stools up against a wall), for a pizza slice that was as big as my ass, and then on to a bar down the street from that. Us + the 7 or 8 or so party goers from Beth's that were sitting at our table were having a whale of a time drinking greyhounds (gin & grapefruit), until we got kicked to the curb at closing.
Beth was a real champ and put us up in her luxuro-pad for 2 nights, and chaufferred us over DC so that Hannes could see the sights that he needed to see, especially now being an "honorary american". We ate Malaysian food, sushi, and drank copius quantities of Starbucks and/or Caribou Coffee.
Eventually Beth got to meet Ellen, and I chose to make the introduction at L'Enfent, also in Adams Morgan, a brillant bar with awesome belgian beers and a great happy hour deal. That same night we went out with Mike and Heidi and Ellen and Beth and Beth's "hot Sean" and Ellen (who hardly drinks anymore) got wasted and proceeded to be her loudmouth conversation-dominating self. It was funny. It was Ellen. Typical. (E gets verbal diahrrea when she drinks... and she doesn't drink much anymore.... so it doesn't take much.... to get her loaded & out of control).
The next 3 nights we bunked with M & H out at their place in the 'burbs. Was a terrible influence on Heidi. Forced her to take her first sickie ever. Stayed up way too late every night drinking mass portions of vodka and juice, or appletinis, and playing Cranium (an awesome trivia/general knowledge game), sleeping late, eating huge burritos for lunch. or smoothies. or taco bell. or whatever we wanted. They spoiled us too.
There was dinner out every night, there was drinking, there were more games, there was more socializing, more hitting the town. . . oh, and the fabulous middle-eastern style hooka bar on 18th street. What more could anyone want.
Oh yeah, the last night with Ellen. We stayed at her joint. Also in Adams Morgan. What was originally going to be a semi-mellow reunion with she and Oliver and me and the mancakes , followed maybe by some night cap with the rest of the gang, turned into yet another improptu-cocktail party at her house. Again Ellen proceeded to get wasted and act the arse but it was really fun and I think all the drama combined with gin and juice, plus a circa 1982-hour-long-PSA by Mr. T. playing on the dvd player in the background, worked a treat for keeping me from being sad about leaving the next day. It was good that all my DC posse was there in the same space, even the ones who had never met before, because all our goodbyes could be said in one go. Just like how it went down on NY's eve in Missouri. Well planned and efficient. Albeit very very sad.
Now we're back and have more to pontificate on, but that's all for later. Now I gotta work.
DUDE, WTF!?!?
I just found out today that magic mushrooms are <<again I say: HOLY SHIT!!>> legal in Ireland!?
And,
There's a shop that sells them about 10 minutes walk from my house!?!?!
Sorry, at this time, I just can not bring myself to complete my travel journal from the 2nd half of my xmas holidays in my blog, when there's news like this on the beat!!!
I am still . . . uh, speechless.
Ireland!
Who knew?!
I just found out today that magic mushrooms are <<again I say: HOLY SHIT!!>> legal in Ireland!?
And,
There's a shop that sells them about 10 minutes walk from my house!?!?!
Sorry, at this time, I just can not bring myself to complete my travel journal from the 2nd half of my xmas holidays in my blog, when there's news like this on the beat!!!
I am still . . . uh, speechless.
Ireland!
Who knew?!
First there was Missouri...
1 Comments Published by Oh Wayward One on 09 January 2006 at 1/09/2006 10:25:00 pm.
We arrived on 23 Dec. into St. Louis, where my parents had driven up to fetch us at the airport. I had managed to get a throat infection 2 days before and it was BAD. Like not the itchy throat thing, rather the white-pussy-spots-covering-your-tonsils kind. Those poor suckers on the plane from Shannon to Boston to St. Lou.... I'm sure I must have unintentionally infected all of them. But anyway, before we got to St. Lou, we had something mega-important to do. . .
. . . drop off the puppies in Boston!!!!
Yes! The great greyhound import of '05!! We had thought it was going to be Rodger and Rory who would be travelling with us to the rescue facilities in Boston, but we ended up taking *3* instead. . . BlaithÃn, Louise, and Stephen. They needed to go more urgently than R&R, so be it!! They were gorgeous. Their photos are about half-way down the page on http://www.limerickanimalwelfare.com/law/index.htm. With santy hats. They were so good in their crates, and they got loads of pets from people in the airport. They were wonderful and docile and cuddly and will make their new owners sooo happy in their soon-to-be-forever homes in Beantown. Louise at Greyhound Friends is such a saint. She picked them up right on time, curb-side, and we were able to say good bye and good luck to them before we had to make our St. L. connection.
On the way back to the JC, we got to stop at Taco Bell on I-70 and enjoy our much-longed-for pseudo-mexi-feast. The 'rents seemed to be in good form. So far so good at least. 2 hours and no fights.
Then started the reunions. I had a very busy schedule planned out for us. There would be speed walks every morning (combatting the heavy partying to come over a 2wk time period), and eating out for both lunch and dinner of every day. There would be at least 1 or 2 organized get-togethers every day. Places to go, people to see, and for Hannes: corndogs to eat.
I was annoyed that my parents kept organizing things for us that we HAD to do, people THEY wanted us to see, or whatever. AGH! I'm selfish! I only have 1 week here, I want to do what *I* want to do. They want me to see (sorry, that should read "they want to SHOW me") to people I don't really like or care about... but whatever, we might see them 3 times in a decade at best, and after all the 'rents were spoiling us rotten and behaving themselves (relatively). I was shocked, but even as far as the 28th, there had STILL been no blow-ups. OK sure xmas was annoying as I've told my mom about 10000 times, PLEASE friggin DONT BUY ME CLOTHES. We have completely contrasting tastes in fashion, and she just doesnt GET IT. I've asked for like at least 15 years now: ANYTHING BUT CLOTHES. So of course she buys me clothes. THey don't fit, they're pink, whatever. Ugh. Things were said, it was a little touch-and-go there for a bit, but still no real blowups.
What's also annoying is that when mothers are going through menopause, they just suck all around. basically. They cry at the drop of a hat and they obsess over stupid crap and take everything as a personal offense. Um, nevermind the fact that the mominator and I are like oil and water from WAY back. Add menopause and basic fundemental differences (like, neuroitc tendencies??) and it's just. . . ugh.
Myself and my fabulous mancakes pulled off the cooking of an entire xmas dinner for 13 people. The huge family fest on the 27th. We made a leg of lamb with roasted mediterranean veggies, squash pie, and salad. It worked. It actually worked. Aunts, uncles, and cousins galore. It was actually pretty fun. We proceeded to leave the family gathering with my cousin Brett who is no longer the 14 year old geek that I remember, but a gorgeous 22-year old total wanderer hippie living out in Oregon now (which I am strangely proud of) who smokes a little weed now and then, and knows almost as much about wine as I did when I was his age. heh heh. We went out with my brother's friends, partied it up at a couple bars (good bars! bars with pool tables! and TWO DOLLAR DRINKS!?!?!?), gossiped about family members and our genetic disposition to sweep things under the rug (it's a family thing), even got a TAXI home. man back when *I* lived in that town, there was no such thing as a Taxi. That is just so surreal to me. And it actually WORKED. The bar man called one for us, and it came! Go figure! It's like, a normal city!?!? WTF!?!?
After all the family malarkey was taken care of between xmas and the 27th, then the friends started to appear. It was great. I met Sarah's kids for the first time (albeit whirlwind, but hey, there was drankin' to do, mang!) and had a blast in columbia, hung out with Mike and Heidi TOGETHER for the first time ever (2 of my main peeps from high school who never knew each other back then but whom now just so happen to be in LOVE thanks to yours truly) at the home town bars, went bowling with Gina, saw Alex over and over again, hit up my favorite surrogate-parents (Heidi's ma & pa), and even had time to squeeze in Tisha& Scotty TWICE.
Nearly all those things I had on my t0-do list? check.
Even think that the hotwings at Madisons have gotten even BETTER. Could that be possible?
I have to admit I was stressed about the new years eve party. But it was cool. Sure, no one EVER RSVP's, but the most unexpected people show up and that's cool. Even when they show up for 20 minutes and have to flit off to random other gatherings, it's cool. It means there's a variety and a dynamic environment that is just . . . cool. Plus no one wanted any drinks off my menu except for martinis, cosmos, harvey wallbangers, and kamikazes, which meant I didn't have to make any hard things like daquiris or brandy alexanders. And we were smart enough to pre-make about 4 of those things so I really didnt have to stress too much. Even cooler? The people who DID show, were the right people. People who socialize and talk to people they know and/or Dont know. People who are cool about THINGs from our past which could be sticky in some way or another. People who I genuinely LIKE!!! It was rad. I was feeling the love. And the harvey wallbangers.
. . . drop off the puppies in Boston!!!!
Yes! The great greyhound import of '05!! We had thought it was going to be Rodger and Rory who would be travelling with us to the rescue facilities in Boston, but we ended up taking *3* instead. . . BlaithÃn, Louise, and Stephen. They needed to go more urgently than R&R, so be it!! They were gorgeous. Their photos are about half-way down the page on http://www.limerickanimalwelfare.com/law/index.htm. With santy hats. They were so good in their crates, and they got loads of pets from people in the airport. They were wonderful and docile and cuddly and will make their new owners sooo happy in their soon-to-be-forever homes in Beantown. Louise at Greyhound Friends is such a saint. She picked them up right on time, curb-side, and we were able to say good bye and good luck to them before we had to make our St. L. connection.
On the way back to the JC, we got to stop at Taco Bell on I-70 and enjoy our much-longed-for pseudo-mexi-feast. The 'rents seemed to be in good form. So far so good at least. 2 hours and no fights.
Then started the reunions. I had a very busy schedule planned out for us. There would be speed walks every morning (combatting the heavy partying to come over a 2wk time period), and eating out for both lunch and dinner of every day. There would be at least 1 or 2 organized get-togethers every day. Places to go, people to see, and for Hannes: corndogs to eat.
I was annoyed that my parents kept organizing things for us that we HAD to do, people THEY wanted us to see, or whatever. AGH! I'm selfish! I only have 1 week here, I want to do what *I* want to do. They want me to see (sorry, that should read "they want to SHOW me") to people I don't really like or care about... but whatever, we might see them 3 times in a decade at best, and after all the 'rents were spoiling us rotten and behaving themselves (relatively). I was shocked, but even as far as the 28th, there had STILL been no blow-ups. OK sure xmas was annoying as I've told my mom about 10000 times, PLEASE friggin DONT BUY ME CLOTHES. We have completely contrasting tastes in fashion, and she just doesnt GET IT. I've asked for like at least 15 years now: ANYTHING BUT CLOTHES. So of course she buys me clothes. THey don't fit, they're pink, whatever. Ugh. Things were said, it was a little touch-and-go there for a bit, but still no real blowups.
What's also annoying is that when mothers are going through menopause, they just suck all around. basically. They cry at the drop of a hat and they obsess over stupid crap and take everything as a personal offense. Um, nevermind the fact that the mominator and I are like oil and water from WAY back. Add menopause and basic fundemental differences (like, neuroitc tendencies??) and it's just. . . ugh.
Myself and my fabulous mancakes pulled off the cooking of an entire xmas dinner for 13 people. The huge family fest on the 27th. We made a leg of lamb with roasted mediterranean veggies, squash pie, and salad. It worked. It actually worked. Aunts, uncles, and cousins galore. It was actually pretty fun. We proceeded to leave the family gathering with my cousin Brett who is no longer the 14 year old geek that I remember, but a gorgeous 22-year old total wanderer hippie living out in Oregon now (which I am strangely proud of) who smokes a little weed now and then, and knows almost as much about wine as I did when I was his age. heh heh. We went out with my brother's friends, partied it up at a couple bars (good bars! bars with pool tables! and TWO DOLLAR DRINKS!?!?!?), gossiped about family members and our genetic disposition to sweep things under the rug (it's a family thing), even got a TAXI home. man back when *I* lived in that town, there was no such thing as a Taxi. That is just so surreal to me. And it actually WORKED. The bar man called one for us, and it came! Go figure! It's like, a normal city!?!? WTF!?!?
After all the family malarkey was taken care of between xmas and the 27th, then the friends started to appear. It was great. I met Sarah's kids for the first time (albeit whirlwind, but hey, there was drankin' to do, mang!) and had a blast in columbia, hung out with Mike and Heidi TOGETHER for the first time ever (2 of my main peeps from high school who never knew each other back then but whom now just so happen to be in LOVE thanks to yours truly) at the home town bars, went bowling with Gina, saw Alex over and over again, hit up my favorite surrogate-parents (Heidi's ma & pa), and even had time to squeeze in Tisha& Scotty TWICE.
Nearly all those things I had on my t0-do list? check.
Even think that the hotwings at Madisons have gotten even BETTER. Could that be possible?
I have to admit I was stressed about the new years eve party. But it was cool. Sure, no one EVER RSVP's, but the most unexpected people show up and that's cool. Even when they show up for 20 minutes and have to flit off to random other gatherings, it's cool. It means there's a variety and a dynamic environment that is just . . . cool. Plus no one wanted any drinks off my menu except for martinis, cosmos, harvey wallbangers, and kamikazes, which meant I didn't have to make any hard things like daquiris or brandy alexanders. And we were smart enough to pre-make about 4 of those things so I really didnt have to stress too much. Even cooler? The people who DID show, were the right people. People who socialize and talk to people they know and/or Dont know. People who are cool about THINGs from our past which could be sticky in some way or another. People who I genuinely LIKE!!! It was rad. I was feeling the love. And the harvey wallbangers.
Home again home again jiggity jig
0 Comments Published by Oh Wayward One on at 1/09/2006 09:17:00 pm.
Man I survived it.
2 and a half weeks in the US + transit time. whew. We got back yesterday (sunday) morning. Arrived into Shannon at about 7am after a long night flight with no sleep and hella turbulance (the pilot said it was his worst Atlantic crossing ever)... only to find out Ireland is in the middle of an ice snap and I had to drive us home at about 20 km/ph due to severely slippery roads. stresssssssssss. what should have been an hour and a half on a quiet sunday morning turned out to be 3 hours of turmoil on a road littered with nasty crashes and deadly accidents, one after another.
But we made it. Must have been all those years of practice living out in Wyoming. heh heh. who'dve ever thought I'd be thankful for that later in life!?
Anyway it was a trip. My first american christmas in 5 years. My husband's first ever. His first visit to Washington DC, first ever meeting of a lot of my nutty friends, and so on.
Entire breakdown of everything to come.
soon.
in parts.
because.
there's so much....
like....
i got a webcam.
hee haw!!
2 and a half weeks in the US + transit time. whew. We got back yesterday (sunday) morning. Arrived into Shannon at about 7am after a long night flight with no sleep and hella turbulance (the pilot said it was his worst Atlantic crossing ever)... only to find out Ireland is in the middle of an ice snap and I had to drive us home at about 20 km/ph due to severely slippery roads. stresssssssssss. what should have been an hour and a half on a quiet sunday morning turned out to be 3 hours of turmoil on a road littered with nasty crashes and deadly accidents, one after another.
But we made it. Must have been all those years of practice living out in Wyoming. heh heh. who'dve ever thought I'd be thankful for that later in life!?
Anyway it was a trip. My first american christmas in 5 years. My husband's first ever. His first visit to Washington DC, first ever meeting of a lot of my nutty friends, and so on.
Entire breakdown of everything to come.
soon.
in parts.
because.
there's so much....
like....
i got a webcam.
hee haw!!
