A Turkey Tale November 23, 2011Posted by Kimmothy in Baptists, Fam Damily, Holidays.
How did it get from the first football game to Turkey Eve already? That was a quick minute; damn.
I feel like I’ve been so lucky this past year, I honestly can’t think of any thing I want right now. “Thing,” of course being defined as material item; I’m always going to wish for more time with family and friends, more time to travel, more time to read…so maybe if I can find a good Black Friday deal on a time hoarding machine, I’ll spring for that.
A private jet would work well too, but I hear they’re starting to tax private jet owners a lot so that won’t work for me.
But instead of getting sappy/nostalgic (there’s still a lot of holiday time left for that), I’ll share a Mother-in-law story, because mine is always good fodder for a giggle.
Cooking and Iris go together like [insert cliche’d metaphor here]. She’s always prided herself on it, but when she retired a few years back it became even more front and center in her identity. That’s not news; it’s that way with a lot of women, but around holiday time, she not only goes all out, she goes all out of her damn mind.
In August, friends of theirs asked them to join them on a five-day cruise. Knowing they wouldn’t be getting home until the day before Thanksgiving, she was a little hesitant, but it was months away, she’d never been on a cruise before and she figured she could handle most of the food ahead of time. She asked me at that time if I thought it would be too much trouble for me to go over there and take the turkey out to defrost the Saturday prior to the holiday.
No problem. In fact, I was eager to help with something, because the only contribution from me she wanted for the holiday meal is Brown ‘n Serve rolls, the kind that come in aluminum foil trays that you remove from plastic bags and warm in the oven for a few minutes. Because apparently that’s where she believes my cooking skills begin and end. She happened to ask me that in front of my sister a few weeks ago and Sister was all, “Oooh, burn.”
Yeah, I know.
The day before they left for the cruise, I got the phone call I was fully expecting.
“Hey, Key-im, are you still going to be able to take the turkey out on Saturday? Because if there’s a problem, let me know and I’ll figure something out. We can’t have Thanksgiving without a turkey!”
Me: “Yes, no problem; I’ll be heading over there tomorrow.”
Her: “Do you still have your key to the house? Because I can leave a spare key somewhere if you don’t, or give you the garage door code, or, or…”
Me: “Got the key right here on my keychain; no problem.”
Her: “Well, I was thinking about just taking it out tomorrow morning before we leave, but I’m worried that might be too early…”
Me: “Nope; wouldn’t want to take a chance on that.” (Thinking: No way in hell would she deviate from the timeline that was established in her head since August.)
Her: “I just don’t want to chance it. But only if you’re sure you can make it over!” (Laughs nervously)
Me: “I’m sure.” (Sure that this isn’t the end of this conversation, not by a long shot)
Her: “Okay. Well make sure you take out the right turkey; it’s in the deep freezer and it’s the nineteen pound Butterball, because you know I only use Butterball for Thanksgiving.”
Me: “Got it.” (As opposed to accidentally taking out the small turkey breast or deli sandwich slices?)
I don’t have the energy to transcribe the entire forty-minute conversation that went down, but I have to included that she did call back ten minutes after we’d hung up to give me the garage door code “just in case,” and to remind me to make sure the refrigerator door was shut all the way, because sometimes that old fridge out in the garage, well, the door doesn’t always want to shut by itself.
I’ll skip the suspenseful part and just say I managed to get the job done.
A Very SPECIAL Thanksgiving November 27, 2010Posted by Kimmothy in Baptists, Fam Damily, Holidays, Home Life.
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At this point the months are flying by like on a bad movie where they show calendar pages quickly flipping past to simulate time passing.
I’ve stayed pretty busy with work: my day job, helping Brian with foreclosure stuff and proof reading. With the dismal unemployment statistics, I feel very, very lucky we have full-time jobs and also these extra sources of income. That scares me though; if we’re finally doing okay financially, that certainly must mean some sort of apocalypse is nigh. It’s fun to think like a Jew – you should try it sometime.
Even though stores have now given up any pretense and now blatantly display Christmas decorations right along side their Halloween candy, I don’t feel like the Holidays Have Arrived officially until Thanksgiving dinner has been consumed. There was a big crowd at the inlaws’ this year and it’s always fun for me to see Brian’s extended family together in a group. Fun because I do actually enjoy his family and also fun because: WEIRDOS GALORE. I’ll break it down:
Aunt Janice – the family’s Official Cat Lady. At this point they have so many cats crawling all over the inside their house, she’s not even sure how many are there at this point. It’s come to the point her family refuses to enter her home anymore and prefer to sip their tea on the front porch or in the driveway, including her beloved son Josh who now sleeps at his grandmother’s house when he comes home to visit. She’s a good cook but no one wants to eat her food anymore; the cheesecake she gave Brian and I to take home had actual cat hair stuck to the container. It would normally pain me to throw away cheesecake – not this time.
George’s Brother Frank – I’ve talked a lot about George’s oddities. Frank makes George look completely normal. These people somehow missed out on the social gene that makes interaction with other human beings easy. At one point I felt someone holding onto my hair and turned to see Frank touching it and looking like he’d never seen something so amazing. I said, “Um, you’re touching my hair?” He said, “It’s pretty! It’s red!” I knew right then it was time for us to leave.
Cousins Josh & Brooks – I’ve known these two since they were little and I’ve always liked them. I’m the type who usually prefers to hang out with kids rather than adults at family functions because the kids are more interesting and don’t tend to discuss politics, so they’ve always liked me a lot. Brian made the comment he thinks they still like me a lot, as they were following me around all day. Yes, Josh does have some creepy stalker qualities, but at least he’s progressed to showing interest in females other than his mom, though it’s mostly all his girl cousins. Hey, progress. He text’s me quite often, and Brian made the comment the other night, “He never text’s ME,” and I said “Because you’re not a girl cousin.” That’s okay; nice boys, both of them.
Other Aunt Janice – (this family has two Janice’s, two Iris’s and twin, two Kim’s and twin uncles Boyce and Royce) She’s a mousy, shy school secretary who all of a sudden busted out with appropos of nothing, “I could wear leather chaps to work and carry a whip but no one would even notice!” Closet family freak – all right!
Cousin Scott – we haven’t seen him since Christmas Eve of 1997, because he’s spent most of the years in between either in jail, missing, or at rehab. He seems better, but “better” is a relative term with him. Crack is a hell of a drug and you can’t ever get those brain cells back. Brian hesitantly gave him his phone number when he asked and we didn’t even make it home before Brian’s phone rang, he turned to show me who was calling and then hit the Ignore button. We’re both happy Brian kept it very vague when Scott asked him where we live.
So, a fun holiday and plenty of fodder for my evil sense of humor. I’m in no way insinuating MY family is normal by any means and I know every family is crazy in their own way. But Brian admits the ratio is larger than normal in his and he loves them all anyway. So do I. And I’m really looking forward to the Christmas get-together.
Long Weekend Adventures July 6, 2010Posted by Kimmothy in Baptists, Fam Damily, Foodies, Home Life, Movies.
The three-day weekend was the perfect mix of lazy, productive and fun, which is my favorite kind. Plus we had a break in the heat which just made everything that much more awesome.
– Friday night we met one of Brian’s friends at this little Irish pubby place so Brian could pay him for helping us clean the latest foreclosure. Even though I don’t drink anymore, bars are an endless source of amusement for me and when this dude came up and gave me a list of bootleg DVD’s he had for sale, I laughed and said “Thank you sir for your kind offer, but I would NEVER want to take away any of the hard-earned funds from those moral, making-the-world-a-better-place celebrities – why, this offends my very soul!” (Heather knows the real story but she’s sworn to secrecy.)
– Brian got all shitty with me for no reason Saturday morning and this doesn’t happen very often. I used it to my advantage however, and didn’t protest when he drove off in a huff to go do some chores for his parents. I spent the afternoon on the front porch reading my library book and followed that with a deeply satisfying nap. Later after he got home he was fine again of course, and we had a lot of fun making fun of a certain vampire movie that just came out in the theater last week but by some mysterious reason we were able to watch at home already. I know nothing.
– Moral of that last one: if he ever gets pissy, let him – especially if it’s going to mean some free time at home alone.
– Yesterday I went to lunch with my MIL, Brian’s favorite aunt and cousin who I’ve always really liked, despite the fact she strongly resembles a model. She’s one of those gorgeous girls who has no idea she’s gorgeous and so that makes her likable. We went to a place called Pawley’s Front Porch which has recently been on the show Diners, Drive-ins and Dives on the Food Network. They’re known for their burgers, but to be honest, while it was definitely a tasty burger, I’ve had better. Then again, maybe if my brain isn’t constantly adding up the calories every time I put something in my mouth, I might’ve enjoyed it more? No, seriously – I can think of three places right off the top of my head I like the burgers more. Still it was a really cool place and it was a really nice time.
– Our washing machine quit us a few weeks back and very luckily George had a spare. With the switch-out in progress, it was obviously the best time to finish repairing the damaged laundry room, and we started tackling it yesterday afternoon. Now, when I say “laundry room,” what I really mean is, “tiny added-on space connected to the kitchen by a door and hanging onto the house by magic.” That’s where the pipe broke over the winter and knowing it was going to be a hellish project, we’ve kind of been putting it off until absolutely necessary, i.e. now. After a quick Home Depot run, we managed to clean all the crap out of the room, rip out the particle board walls, remove the unmentionable-infested insulation and sweep and vaccum off the curling linoleum floor. The garbage men are going to hate us today when they see what lies await on our curb. We still have a little ways to go, but in the meantime we were really happy with ourselves with our progress and excited to soon finally have this thing checked off the list. The goal of doing some home improvement project every week has been working out really well and we’re motivated to keep going until there’s nothing left to do except move out.
Bonus: totally forgot I looked like this while running garbage back and forth to the curb:
People did give me some weird looks, but I’m so used to it, it didn’t hit me until much later I looked like some psycho who was performing frightening procedures inside my house.
Viva la Difference! March 21, 2010Posted by Kimmothy in Baptists, Fam Damily, Jews, Youth.
I’ve spent a lot of time over the past week reading the info so many nice people have provided me regarding adoption stories. I’ve loved every minute of it, not just because it gives me hope and some confidence with how to proceed, but also because I’m a voyeur who loves reading about other people’s lives.
One thing that stuck out was when someone talked about the home study foster and adoptive parents go through and how among the many questions asked is how *you* were raised. This has always been a fun compare-and-contrast topic in our house, mostly because of the GLARING differences.
First, the similarities –
We’re both the oldest of two siblings.
Except that’s not even totally true, because Brian’s dad actually had a son with his first wife, so Brian has an older half-brother. So scratch that one.
The differences –
Him: Strict, church-going, not allowed playtime on Saturdays until chores were done, unrealistic curfews (he regularly broke), very restricted TV watching (The Jeffersons were not allowed into their living room for obvious reasons), arbitrary rules, regulations, Bible-invoking spare the rod, spoil the child, child rearing. Which of course made him start to rebel at a fairly young age and years of troublesome problems commenced.
Me: Bedtimes were strictly enforced, as was nutritional intake – for a little while there in the mid-70’s, my mom went on a health kick where she stopped buying Kool-aid and replaced it with the abomination that is Juicy Juice – but other than that, things were pretty laid back. Well too, good grades were stressed – I was put on phone restriction once in 9th grade when I brought home a less-than-stellar report card (damn algebra) and I got my car taken away from me a month after I got it for skipping school my senior year. And Brian laughs – “You had a CAR. That they BOUGHT you. Rough life! Hahaha!” He’s still amazed by the fact our parents took us to see Eddie Murphy in concert. Hey, they thought he was funny in the early 80’s just like mostly everyone else. Well, excluding Brian’s parents.
We didn’t have a lot of money when I was growing up, but pretty much all the disposable income they did have, most of it went toward making me and my sister happy. I’d like to think we knew how lucky we were at the time, but come on. No kid really thinks that, do they? I was too busy comparing my JC Penny’s fake Polo shirts to the kids who wore their Calvins and Vanderbilts and United Colors of Benetton every day. Especially Melody Dixon, who not only had all the right clothes but accessorized them with a large yellow gold jewelry collection and her full 1-karat diamond studs.
Don’t worry. I’m now clearly aware of what an asshole I was.
On the flip side, for as much trouble Brian got in (some of which ended up with having the law involved), I was a nerdy good kid whose biggest fear in life was the possibility of disappointing my parents. So apparently their guilt-administering skills must have been superior to those of his parents’. Score one for the Jews.
So if a social worker were to ask us to describe our childhoods, we’d be able to say that between us they were very, uh, DIVERSE. Which in my opinion is good, right? Our future kid acts up, and I’m sure we’d have some lively discussions on what the punishment would involve. I’d say something like no phone and TV for a week and Brian would make him/her re-roof the house while memorizing the New Testament.
Or some happy medium.
Country Fried Nutballs November 23, 2009Posted by Kimmothy in Baptists, Fam Damily, Holidays.
There’s a it’s-funny-because-it’s-true sketch on SNL they do around Thanksgiving where they show a family sitting around the dinner table and everyone is teeth-grittingly pissed off and they alternately try to make conversation/break out into screaming arguments. One character always jumps up as if to leave the table until everyone yells at her to sit back down and stop being ridiculous and the whole cycle starts over again.
They showed it this past weekend, and it made me miss my family.
But, with getting to spend the holiday with Brian’s family this year, there will certainly be no lacking in the crazy. It’s just that southern people are a little more subtle about it. There isn’t any yelling or sniping; at best you might witness some light ribbing about when is so-and-so gonna finally settle down or some light debate on how we’re going to manage the Christmas gift exchange this year. No, their drama is all behind the scenes and kept very quiet. Which kind of makes it seem more sinister than it actually is.
None of the following will be talked about on Thursday, but all of it is currently happening:
– The 24-year-old male cousin who although is finally out of his parents’ house and in the military, requested to be stationed as close as possible to home. Supposedly he’s saving money for a vehicle but in the meantime, his momma drives two hours one way to pick him up every free weekend he has so he can spend it with them. And then of course drives him back on Sunday. Elevates the meaning of “Momma’s Boy” to alarming levels.
– The real-live Cat Lady aunt. Her collection started modestly a few years back with ten or twelve, who were mainly outdoor pets. The number has risen to the point she’s not even sure how many she actually has now. She spends a large portion of her not-large income seeing they are all fed, sheltered and given veterinary care. Family members no longer visit her beause of the horror movie-like atmosphere there and also because the last person who did told everyone else there’s really no place to sit down. Considering she has a husband and kid, she doesn’t fall into the typical cat lady profile and is otherwise an extremely sweet, seemingly very normal person, if a little quiet and shy. George has already claimed that if she brings a dish Thursday, he will not partake. Which really bummed me out because she makes the most awesome macaroni and cheese ever. But yeah, I think I’ll be sticking with the no-eat policy on this one.
– The uncle who a few months ago quit his stable government job of almost twenty-five years and who also wants to quit his wife of almost that long. He prayed about it and God told him he was meant for a higher calling. Not sure what that calling is supposed to be, but maybe he is, since he’s been CALLING almost everyone in the family, asking if he can come stay with them and help with whatever odd jobs they need done around their houses.
– The two family members who went into business together a few years ago. It was going very well, up until the aunt and uncle who live out of state and invested all the money to get the business running started getting concerned when the nephew was never, ever in the office when they called. The concern grew to genuine fear when they found out even though the nephew was clearing a salary of $1,200 a week, had his vehicle repossessed, and was depending on his parents to pay his mortgage. Embezzlement, drugs and a few other quite unsavory situations have recently been revealed and to say things are awkward between the two families is a big-ass understatement.
– The 20-year-old supermodel cousin. Raised in a strict Southern Baptist home, she used to be painfully shy at the big family gatherings. Brian always told me it’s the quiet ones to watch out for, since he was that way himself growing up and then became one of the family’s biggest hellraisers. Well he damn sure called that one, as now she’s living here, two hours away from her parents, working, going to school, and partying it up. There have been sightings of her at various bars around town, not only with a drink in one hand and a cigarette in the other, but the Baptists’ worst nightmare: DANCING. Her parents would literally need to be sedated should they ever find any of this out. She’s a really great girl though, and one who’s probably agonizing over the upcoming holidays and all the quality family time, so I have a goal. When I see her Thursday, I’m going to let her know she has both an ally and alibi in Brian and me, depending on what is needed, that we have professional experience dealing with her uptight family and if she ever needs a late-night rescue she wouldn’t want her parents to know about, we’re the people to call. The trick will be letting her know this without letting her know we’re onto her.
Yes, family holidays are often stressful and annoying. But with the right attitude (and medication), you can easily turn it into your own private sketch comedy show. I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again: this stuff writes itself.
Sew Lacking November 21, 2009Posted by Kimmothy in Baptists, Fam Damily, Home Life.
Brian had a grandmother who lived on a working farm, where the family made most of their money growing and harvesting tobacco. Among other things, she knew how to catch, clean & cook fish, swing a chicken around by its neck and then pluck, quarter and cook it, and raise eight kids on a budget so tight they’re all barefoot in the first few years of their school pictures. The fact all her kids grew up to be devout Christians and all-around good people can be attributed solely to her upbringing, since her husband retured from World War II an alcoholic and fairly useless man.
The woman was hardcore.
I was thinking of all this as Brian handed me a mint condition old Sears sewing machine other day, one of the finds in the latest foreclosure we’re in the middle of cleaning out.
I’ve always wanted a sewing machine. My mother used to make matching outfits for her, me and Sister on her Sears Singer. She re-did my favorite Raggedy Ann doll a few years back and the purple comforter we use every winter. The curtains that hang in my kitchen. A ton of other stuff I’ve enjoyed over the course of my life.
Fabric stores excite me. Clothes excite me more. The big problem lies in the fact I have no idea how to set the thing up, much less turn it on and use it. It mocks me from its case in the corner of this room.
A sewing class in 8th grade where we completed two projects, a stuffed animal and a shirt. Replacing the occasional shirt button. Those are what make up the sum total of my sewing experience. I’ve never learned to knit, crochet, or do hook rugs. I can cross-stitch, but cross-stitching doesn’t make anything that’s useful and in fact actually produces things I myself would never hang on my walls or display on my couch, let alone give as a gift to someone I like.
I obviously can’t produce a child. I can’t make fried chicken, let alone strangle and pluck one. I have no idea if my make-up colors are “Summer” or “Winter.” I don’t like wearing heels. My God. I guess I better figure out how to use it, because this sewing machine might just be my last chance at proving womanhood.
Pie Wars November 15, 2009Posted by Kimmothy in Baptists, Fam Damily, Foodies, Holidays.
This Thanksgiving is going to be a little different than the last two.
The inlaws usually drive two hours north and spend the holiday with George’s elderly mother and because is something I’d wanted no part of, I made up a simple, don’t-want-to-hurt-their-feelings story that we were eating with some relatives of mine who live in Hilton Head, two hours south of here. Relatives I haven’t seen since our wedding, but whatever. We both felt bad about the lying aspect, but agreed spending a nice relaxing holiday at home with me making a whole big traditional (first year) and then sea food (last year) dinner for us was awesome. Until this happened, I’d never even cooked a whole turkey before – it had to be done (and Laura, that’s when I picked up the awesome cover-the-bird-in-bacon tip I will swear by until the end of time).
But George’s mom passed away a couple of months ago, so this year they’re having the meal at their house. I’m actually happy about it – cooking a ton of food and cleaning up afterwards is hard work and I’m excited to be relieved of the duty this year. Seriously relieved, since when I asked the MIL what I could bring to dinner, she politely and sort of hestintantly told me, “Oh, I don’t think you need to bring anything…I’ve already bought everything I need…I think I have it covered.”
I wasn’t surprised by this, even though there are somewhere in the neighborhood of fifteen to twenty people coming to eat and you’d think maybe deligating a side dish or dessert or at the very least a couple of 2-litres of something to drink…but no, what am I saying – this is the land of swate tay (sweet tea for those of us who speak normally), after all. In fact, I might want to break out that handy flask we own to fill with Diet Coke now that I think about it.
I don’t know if it’s a Woman Thing, a Southern Woman Thing or just My Mother-in-law Thing, but she is VERY territorial when it comes to all things food. A few years ago when I told Brian she deliberately left a couple of ingredients out of her squash casserole recipe when I’d asked her for it, he laughed at me. He laughed not because he didn’t believe me, but because he could totally see her doing that. And I’ve since been proven right, having watched her make it over the years and see her add a pinch of this or that to it that she conveniently neglected to tell me. Hell, she admitted to giving a different recipe to the church cookbook; why would she give me the real one and risk giving up her secret?
More proof of the crazy:
– She LOOOVES the fact I can’t make homemade biscuits and/or gravy. Whenever she makes it, she lets something sort of catty slip out like, “Briine (Brian, but spelled phonetically like she says it) sure loves his momma’s ______ (insert biscuits, gravy, cole slaw, whatever in the blank)!”
– Whenever I’ve asked for a recipe of anything, she gives me her standard answer: “Oh, I don’t really follow a recipe for that; I don’t even usually measure the ingredients!” (Why is it then, in the other room behind the french doors there’s usually a cookbook open to the page that corresponds with the recipe we’re eating?) (I would never have the balls to ask.)
– Whenever she talks about one of her friend’s food, there’s always, ALWAYS a little insult thrown in there. “That Elsie sure is a nice lady, but boy her soup could’ve used a little more flavor! No wonder Ed stays so skinny all the time!” (George is pretty slender as well, but again – no balls, would never bring up.)
– I couldn’t think of anything, moreso than usual to get George for Christmas last year so I made him his favorite dessert, my first apple pie. I don’t personally like apple pie, but it looked so perfect when I took it out of the oven I actually snapped a picture of it – I’d even managed to do that lattice top of the pie crust thing and added little red cinnomon sugar sprinkles on top. I was proud of this pie. I brought it over when we spent the night there Christmas Eve and since she usually only makes appetizers to eat the night before the big day, suggested the pie for dessert. George loved it and he and Brian each ate two pieces over the course of the night. She had a weird look on her face the whole night and did not eat one bite of it, at least not in front of me. And she always has dessert.
So here’s what I’ve decided to do, in a little passive-aggressive move. I don’t like pumpkin or pecan pie, the staples of Thanksgiving dinner. But I do like dessert. So I have this recipe, an entire recipe with nothing left out of it, for a chocolate pie/dessert thing I’m making and bringing over there for Thanksgiving. I’m not telling her about it ahead of time, but instead just showing up with it and saying in my sweetest tone of voice, “Oh I just felt so bad about not bringing anything – I just threw this together really quick!”
It’s really a win-win, if you think about it. If no one else shows any interest in it, I still get to eat a dessert I like and Brian loves it too. And if someone else prefers chocolate over pumpkin and pecan, I get to see that weird look on her face again.
All the Small Things August 13, 2009Posted by Kimmothy in Baptists, Fam Damily, Friends, Home Life, Whatever.
Contrary to what’s surely popular belief because I talk about them so damn much, I can’t stand the phrase “blow job.” I’m guessing it comes from the fact I was a very literal child and heard the phrase long before I ever learned what it REALLY meant (and oh the horror that day) and then asked what has to be the eternal question: Why is it called “blow” if what you’re doing is the opposite of blowing? I mean, “suck job” is no less offensive to me, but at least it would be literally correct! Damn, does that piss me off! All that to say I’ve decided I heretoforth (what? I don’t know) will only refer to the act as either a “b-job” or “blow-j.” I don’t know about you, but I’m sure going to sleep better tonight.
Every year around this time (right before classes start) the local alternative paper prints the “City Guide” issue to help initiate the thousands of newcomers to our fair city and its surrounding areas. Can I just tell you how much I love this damn thing? While it’s true I’m already aware of most of what they write about, but it’s still a nice way to refresh myself (plus there’s always tons of lists). After all, knowing next month brings such awesomeness as Irmo’s Okra Strut and Gaston’s Collard Festival is important information to have. And that’s not even saying how much the Boo at the Zoo in October means to me, which is a lot. I’ve never made it a secret how much I love this friggin’ town, but especially during this time of year. Not even counting the upcoming weather, which you know I’m doing anyway, it seems like this place becomes a lot more alive and kicking and it’s all tied into the academic year which I love. I’m even debating again about taking a class – don’t hold me to it, but I am debating.
Haven’t yet talked to Brian about the LEAFestival, but we’re going sailing with Delorme and his girlfriend Sunday so I’ll have to do it before then, because at that point Delorme is going to take over with extolling the wonderousness of it all and I know the only way that’s going to be effective is if I’ve primed Brian first. He really likes Delorme, but sometimes also kind of laughs at some of the things D is enthusiastic about and we don’t want that. Unless he’s laughing in the “we’re going to have so much fun!” way. Then I’m all for it. Even after thinking it over for the last twenty-four hours, I’m surprised at how much I still really want to go. Want. To. Go. BADLY. So, we’ll see. Soon.
I’m really happy the sail boat trip is planned for Sunday though. It’s been awhile since we’ve (especially Brian) has had a break from the Sunday-At-The-Parents routine and last week the whole thing got on my last nerve. Mostly because their house is kept at the highest possible temperature one is able to bear before spontaneous combustion occurs, but also because every week it’s the same thing. If we’re not there by 12:01 p.m., she’s blowing up both of our phones. Then when we announce we’re leaving, usually between three and five p.m. every week, she says the EXACT same thing: “Oh, y’all are leavin’ already – you just got here!” Which I’m not sure if that’s just a southern hospitality thing or the fact she thinks three, four and five hours on a Sunday isn’t a sufficient visit. Either way this week I wasn’t havin’ it. I was back on the computer messing around until the fucking oppressive heat gave me a headache. I walked into the living room to give Brian the “let’s get the f out of here” signal and found all three of them ASLEEP. I said loudly, “Babe – get up; we’ve got to go home.” He and his mom snapped awake at the same time and she said her weekly line. To which I replied, “No, actually we DIDN’T just get here; we’ve been here for almost four hours.” She kind of laughed, but afterwards I was thinking holy shit, I can’t believe I actually said that out loud. When they walked us out to the truck (another thing they do to make us stay longer while the truck is running so the a/c can cool off the dog), she said “I love you, Brian…take care, Kee-yim.” Haha! Oops. Brian looked at me like !!! but I told him I’m sure it’s all good. She can’t be mad at me for long; I’m married to her firstborn, the Prodigal Son. Regardless, we need a Sunday off and I’m happy this is the week.
Excuse my excited rambles; I just finished a weeks-long project at work and I literally feel like I have a buzz.
Funtastic Weekender July 20, 2009Posted by Kimmothy in Baptists, Foodies, Friends, Home Life, Weather.
You ever have one of those weekends that is just perfect with the exact right ratio of activity and relaxation? The kind that when Sunday night rolls around you get the sads because it’s over already and then when Monday morning gets here you wish you could punch it in the face? That’s me.
My semi-dreaded lunch with the preggie friend was really nice, of course, and my fears of awkwardness were completely unfounded. I will say I had a minute of pure freak-out when I first saw her, trying to force myself to not look down at her little belly. She’s a straight up bean pole, I’m sure she started showing the day after they conceived, and there certainly was a little roundness where normally she’s practically inverted. I started thinking, “Fuck, what if she chickens out and decides not to tell me!?” But then right after we were seated she told me she had a couple of presents for me and one of them was a framed picture of the little bean in utero. I thought that was a very cute thing to do and we both teared up immediately and the rest of the lunch was great. I’m so glad it’s over, if only that I can go back to being normal with her. She is a good friend and I’m glad my issues didn’t ruin something.
I took advantage of being on that side of town and after lunch dropped off a hee-YOOGE bag of unfortunate clothes to the Goodwill. And then resisted buying more – go, Kimmy!
After a quick trip to the tanning bed (Florida sun, you are NOT going to get me this time, you bastard – I finally have the protective powers of the base tan!), I got home and had just enough time to get ready for our golf outing.
I’ll get this out of the way first. We could not have picked a better day in the middle of a Carolina summer to be outside and on a golf course. The perfect mix of warm but with a perfect breeze and almost no humidity – oh my God. August, did you hear that? I’m not asking for everything, just go easy on the damn humidity! It makes everything so much more pleasant this way. And I couldn’t believe it but toward the end of the day when the sun was going down, I actually started getting a little chill! It was FREAKING AWESOME.
After our friends met us there and we secured our two carts, we started out. As soon as we got to the first tee, I realized we’d been there before and asked Brian if this was one of the courses we’d played when my parents had come to visit over ten years ago and he said it was. It’s hard to explain, but since my dad was a golf (teaching) pro and I grew up around golf and golf courses, being on one makes me feel so close to him in a way that is almost never possible for me now that he’s gone. Sister says it upsets her and I can see that because all I have to do is see a golf club to feel a little pang of hurt, but I just can’t help but to feel happy too. Maybe I should start playing more often. And this golf course was green and hilly and surrounded by what seemed like an enchanted forest all around it, for real. We had a great time riding around watching the boys play and they had a good time as well. Brian’s not the type to get pissy if he hits a bad shot, knowing the last time he played was last Labor Day.
We ended up eating dinner with them too, at the same restaurant I’d eaten lunch at, but it was sort of my idea. You know when you go out with another couple who you know pretty well but you haven’t eaten together that much so you don’t know all their likes and dislikes yet? I highly suggest picking a place like Ruby Tuesdays (which is what I did), Applebees or the like, so someone can get red meat, someone else can get chicken, fish, salad, whatever. Variety is the key. A Public Service Announcement from Kim T. Obvious.
Yesterday was Brian’s birthday and it was also Sunday, which meant a trip to the inlaws’ and not only Sunday “dinner” but also a cake and presents, which was nice. Sometimes though they are more weird than usual and yesterday was one of those times. I’m not really sure if it’s the Lupus or the medication she’s on for it, but his mother has started doing this thing where she interrupts whomever is talking with something that has nothing to do with what the other person is talking about. It’s highly annoying but I try to be understanding. Now George – I don’t know what his excuse is. I mentioned I’m going to Florida Friday and he said, “Oh, you’re going to Florida again?” Again? Again as in since last October? Why yes, yes I am. Like Brian said later, “You and your crazy yearly trips to Florida.” I mean, wha? Whatever though. They mean well.
I ended the weekend by doing some shopping and chores, knocking some shit off the to-do list and cleaning out my trash heap vehicle to get it ready to be packed and then falling into a tired but happy sleep on the couch around 9:00.
And though I don’t want to complain since I only have three more days of work then ten days of no-work, I really did hate to see this weekend end. It was one of the best ones I’ve had in awhile. I hope everybody else’s was just as great.
Repeat performances June 8, 2009Posted by Kimmothy in Baptists, Fam Damily, Home Life.
We had a crazy working weekend, which makes today kind of suck because I feel like we kind of didn’t have a weekend at all, but the extra money right now is awesome and helpful, so I’m not really complaining, just stating a fact. Lucky for us, or should I say Brian, it wasn’t too stupid outside so I was able to help him do some landscape work. Had it been today, I would’ve had to politely decline. As it was, we worked mostly in the late afternoon/evening and I had fun throwing down some new mulch and planting flowers. He knows he can always tempt me with a trip to the Home Depot.
I love many flowers, but right now these are ranking pretty high up there:
Bonus Green Thumb points if you know what they are! Brian usually does pretty well picking out flowers even though when he was in school they didn’t interest him quite as much as trees, plants and bugs. The only one we really disagree on are Snap Dragons. He loves them and would use them every time, but I think they look like aliens and/or female genitalia. Let’s not analyze that statement too deeply.
At his parents’ yesterday the big story was my sister-in-law, a.k.a. Brian’s step-sister’s recent engagement announcement. George told us her boyfriend (another Brian, jeez) called him the other night to do the very cool thing of asking George for Kelly’s hand in marriage. That’s pretty much unheard of these days and we both expressed how cool we thought it was. George agreed and said it was very touching to him. Then all of a sudden Brian’s mom busted out with, “I wonder if he called Kelly’s step-father and asked him the same thing.”
*All converasation ceases and awkward silence ensues*
Brian kind of gave me a side-eye and later told me it really pissed him off. To what purpose? George is already very sensitive to the fact he wishes he and his daughter had a closer relationship(and Iris is very aware of this), so at best it was just a thoughtless remark and she didn’t realize how it bad it sounded and at worst it was that passive-aggressive, sweet-toned evil thing southern women have perfected over generations. THEN, she started right in with how they plunked down a ton of money for Kelly’s first wedding and how they certainly would NOT be doing that again…and the atmosphere in the room became so tense, I excused myself from the table and pretended to have to go to the bathroom for a short while.
Dude. I felt so bad and embarrassed and…just shitty. I’m particularly sensitive to father/daughter relationships. And I’ve noticed as Brian’s mom gets older she is getting a little sassier and snippier, which okay, but I’d prefer stuff like that not to happen in front of me. Being around them for so many years, my tolerance for the awkward has gotten much higher, but it still totally catches me off guard sometimes.
She later gave me and the dog a ride home so Brian could help George finish yet another project and we talked a little about it. I can see some of her point, coming to it from the step-parent’s point of view, but on the other hand, George has been very, VERY generous with regard to her two sons (I say from the experience of being the recipient of his generosity many times), so I’d just rather not discuss any of it, at all.
I will say I was under the impression that for a second marriage, I thought most people played it pretty low-key. She’s already done the big expensive wedding with the three-hundred guests and poufy white dress and that one didn’t take. She loves to travel; I would’ve thought this time around maybe she’d want just to go off somewhere together and combine the wedding and honeymoon. That’s certainly what the hell I’d do. Right? I mean, I know of people who have actually done this and I just assumed it was the common ettiquette. So correct me if I’m wrong – what would YOU do for the second time around?