This is an excellent year to be a resident of the city during the Three Rivers Arts Festival. A partial lineup of performers includes: (the heavenly, divine) Raul Malo, Buckwheat Zydeco, Mason Jennings, Gov't Mule, eels, Alejandro Escovedo, The Tragically Hip and Roseanne Cash. All of the performances are free.
And there is all the art, sculptures and junk for sale in the Artist's Market, performances in the downtown galleries and theatres and street performers.
Unfortunately, I will not be able to see Raul Malo or Buckwheat Zydeco. My work schedule has been beyond weird the past two weeks, with multiple starts and stoppages in testing. This weekend includes a Saturday bridal shower and a full day of work on Sunday.
I am disappointed that I will not have the opportunity to see Raul Malo. I saw him ten years ago in Greensboro when he was the lead singer of the Mavericks and have been swooning over him ever since.
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
Sunday, May 28, 2006
Small Annoyances
There is a billboard we pass on the way to J's parents house. It is mounted outside a Catholic cemetery and usually displays a conservative religious message. Normally I don't pay much attention to it, except as another sign that clutters the landscape.
The billboard's latest message has made me uneasy. It shows a young woman dressed as a bride in the foreground, with her groom gazing at her with adoration in the misty background. The text reads "Marriage...God's answer to safe sex".
Why is the (female) bride clearly seen in the foreground while the (male) groom is obscured?
The billboard's latest message has made me uneasy. It shows a young woman dressed as a bride in the foreground, with her groom gazing at her with adoration in the misty background. The text reads "Marriage...God's answer to safe sex".
Why is the (female) bride clearly seen in the foreground while the (male) groom is obscured?
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
Quick Updates
Update 1: My dad got the results of his CAT and Bone scan back. No cancer. Completely localized to the Prostate. There was some concern, since his Gleason was a 7, that it had spread to other parts of his body. Surgery is upcoming.
Update 2: The dates of my Paris trip are Friday, July 21 to Sunday, July 30. Shortly after booking the flight I discovered that the Tour de France ends on July 23. So my apathetic search for a digital camera has turned into a full blown effort. Recommendations are welcome. The camera must be Macintosh OS 10.4 compatible, small and easy to operate. A good zoom and high pixel rate are also a priority. Alas, since I blew a large sum on the plane tickets, a Digital SLR is out of my reach right now, unless I can con someone into selling me one at a steep, steep discount. I see a trip to the Sony Outlet store in Grove City in the near future, as they sell tons of refurbished equipment. Our television, clocks and two of J's mp3 players have come from that store.
Update 2: The dates of my Paris trip are Friday, July 21 to Sunday, July 30. Shortly after booking the flight I discovered that the Tour de France ends on July 23. So my apathetic search for a digital camera has turned into a full blown effort. Recommendations are welcome. The camera must be Macintosh OS 10.4 compatible, small and easy to operate. A good zoom and high pixel rate are also a priority. Alas, since I blew a large sum on the plane tickets, a Digital SLR is out of my reach right now, unless I can con someone into selling me one at a steep, steep discount. I see a trip to the Sony Outlet store in Grove City in the near future, as they sell tons of refurbished equipment. Our television, clocks and two of J's mp3 players have come from that store.
Saturday, May 20, 2006
Decisions
I put in my time-off request for the week that J will be remodeling our only bathroom. We agreed several months ago that my presence in the house was a bad idea since all the fixtures, including the ugly 1940's cast iron tub, are coming out.
Part of the reason is that we do not work well together on house stuff. He yells, I cry, a fight ensues. The other reason is that my two months of sickness was caused by the flu and the amount of dust and mold kicked up when he started removing tile from the walls and floor earlier this year.
And he is a guy. His bathroom needs can be satisfied by the shower hookup in the basement and a bucket. I demand the luxury of a working toilet.
I am going to Paris for eight days.
Purchasing a plane ticket was a shock. My ticket cost $1,251.11, which is roughly 2.5 times more than they were the last time I was on a plane. And it was one of the least expensive flights I could find, anywhere. I'm still shocked that I managed to reason myself into paying that much money for a plane ticket. And I'm utterly convinced that a week from now, they will be cheaper, because Commander Cuckoo Bananas will have managed to sneak Halliburton into the Artic Refuge.
But I'm going back to a city I love by myself for eight days. I found a nice hotel via Charming Hotels in Paris*. I have a backup plan in case the place is already booked. I've been there before, so I know how to navigate the Metro and the city streets.
My in-laws are not happy about this. The bathroom remodeling is scheduled for the same week that most of J's family will be in Hilton Head. They invited me to come with them while J works on the house. I politely turned down their invitation, since past history has demonstrated that a root canal is more pleasant than traveling with his family.
There is a general feeling from both families that I am pushing the envelope of good taste and proper behavior for a married woman. I did not take J's last name, exclusive responsibility for the household chores or start having children right away, so I'm considered a little off the beat. Traveling to a foreign country while J works at home is not going over well. It is not proper for a married woman to travel without her spouse. If she must, then it should either be with family or to visit family.
Chaperoned, in other words.
*Hotel Quai Voltaire was one of the available hotels, but it was out of my price range. As was a lovely student dive near the Sorbonne and a third place in the Latin Quarter. So I'm staying near the Embassies, which should make my second attempt to visit the Baccarat Musuem a little easier.
Part of the reason is that we do not work well together on house stuff. He yells, I cry, a fight ensues. The other reason is that my two months of sickness was caused by the flu and the amount of dust and mold kicked up when he started removing tile from the walls and floor earlier this year.
And he is a guy. His bathroom needs can be satisfied by the shower hookup in the basement and a bucket. I demand the luxury of a working toilet.
I am going to Paris for eight days.
Purchasing a plane ticket was a shock. My ticket cost $1,251.11, which is roughly 2.5 times more than they were the last time I was on a plane. And it was one of the least expensive flights I could find, anywhere. I'm still shocked that I managed to reason myself into paying that much money for a plane ticket. And I'm utterly convinced that a week from now, they will be cheaper, because Commander Cuckoo Bananas will have managed to sneak Halliburton into the Artic Refuge.
But I'm going back to a city I love by myself for eight days. I found a nice hotel via Charming Hotels in Paris*. I have a backup plan in case the place is already booked. I've been there before, so I know how to navigate the Metro and the city streets.
My in-laws are not happy about this. The bathroom remodeling is scheduled for the same week that most of J's family will be in Hilton Head. They invited me to come with them while J works on the house. I politely turned down their invitation, since past history has demonstrated that a root canal is more pleasant than traveling with his family.
There is a general feeling from both families that I am pushing the envelope of good taste and proper behavior for a married woman. I did not take J's last name, exclusive responsibility for the household chores or start having children right away, so I'm considered a little off the beat. Traveling to a foreign country while J works at home is not going over well. It is not proper for a married woman to travel without her spouse. If she must, then it should either be with family or to visit family.
Chaperoned, in other words.
*Hotel Quai Voltaire was one of the available hotels, but it was out of my price range. As was a lovely student dive near the Sorbonne and a third place in the Latin Quarter. So I'm staying near the Embassies, which should make my second attempt to visit the Baccarat Musuem a little easier.
Thursday, May 18, 2006
I'm It!
Cool! Thanks Lisa!
I AM the rebel daughter-in-law.
I WANT to go to back to Paris.
I WISH I could walk the fine line between assertive and bitchy successfully.
I MISS the sound of the ocean.
I HEAR the birds singing in the morning.
I WONDER what life would be like if Bush had not been "elected".
I REGRET moving back to my hometown for three years. I'll never get those years back.
I AM NOT easy to live with. But I've been told that I'm quite entertaining.
I DANCE out of rhythm.
I AM NOT ALWAYS as shy as I seem.
I MAKE WITH MY HANDS Christmas ornaments. Elaborate, cross-stiched Christmas ornaments.
I WRITE to stay sane.
I CONFUSE directions.
I NEED to accept help more often.
I SHOULD be bolder.
I START too many books at once.
I FINISH dessert, always.
I DON'T know who to tag!
I AM the rebel daughter-in-law.
I WANT to go to back to Paris.
I WISH I could walk the fine line between assertive and bitchy successfully.
I MISS the sound of the ocean.
I HEAR the birds singing in the morning.
I WONDER what life would be like if Bush had not been "elected".
I REGRET moving back to my hometown for three years. I'll never get those years back.
I AM NOT easy to live with. But I've been told that I'm quite entertaining.
I DANCE out of rhythm.
I AM NOT ALWAYS as shy as I seem.
I MAKE WITH MY HANDS Christmas ornaments. Elaborate, cross-stiched Christmas ornaments.
I WRITE to stay sane.
I CONFUSE directions.
I NEED to accept help more often.
I SHOULD be bolder.
I START too many books at once.
I FINISH dessert, always.
I DON'T know who to tag!
Wednesday, May 17, 2006
A Mid-Week Day Off
My day started with cleaning up after Wigford, the cat who is afraid of everything. Apparently "everything" includes throwing up breakfast. Unlike the other two kitties, Wigford is not prone to hairballs, so he was bewildered by the sudden histrionics of his stomach. I tucked the comforter around his huddled form and left him to sleep it off on the bed.
I need to take all three to the vet anyway. Their shots are overdue...
My first stop was Joseph Beth Booksellers. Joseph Beth Booksellers is modeled after common "big box" stores with cooler stuff, an enormous stock from independent publishers and a great atmosphere. Pittsburgh is one of five smaller market cities with a store.
After a wander through the store I treated myself to:
Anthony Bourdain's The Nasty Bits
and
A groovy little map of Paris from Mapgroup International, called an InsideOut City Guide. The guide comes with popout maps, a compass in the spine and a little pen that lights up. As an additional bonus, the ISBN/price tag peels off the back.
The best part of the store is the staff. I spotted the InsideOut maps in the travel section but did not see one for Paris. One of the members of the staff looked it up, went downstairs, retrieved the box from the latest shipment, came back upstairs and gave the map to me. The man at the checkout told me to have a nice trip. I did not have the heart to tell him that I was not going anywhere.
Reasons to Love Crazy Mocha
Crazy Mocha is a chain of local coffee shops in Pittsburgh. They have locations throughout the city, in Bloomfield, Lawrenceville, the South Side, Oakland, the Carnegie Library of Pittsburgh (how cool is that!) and Shadyside.
The décor is bright, the drinks are cheap and the desserts beyond yummy. The South Side location routinely makes slices of cheesecakes from the Cheesecake Factory up the street available along with the rest of the dessert rotation. They also serve vegetarian sandwiches and giant cookies.
Those are all good things that most successful coffee shops possess. But Crazy Mocha has a few extras that put them over the top.
I'm not going to make it for the haircut or the new driver's license. I'll save it for another day.
I need to take all three to the vet anyway. Their shots are overdue...
My first stop was Joseph Beth Booksellers. Joseph Beth Booksellers is modeled after common "big box" stores with cooler stuff, an enormous stock from independent publishers and a great atmosphere. Pittsburgh is one of five smaller market cities with a store.
After a wander through the store I treated myself to:
Anthony Bourdain's The Nasty Bits
and
A groovy little map of Paris from Mapgroup International, called an InsideOut City Guide. The guide comes with popout maps, a compass in the spine and a little pen that lights up. As an additional bonus, the ISBN/price tag peels off the back.
The best part of the store is the staff. I spotted the InsideOut maps in the travel section but did not see one for Paris. One of the members of the staff looked it up, went downstairs, retrieved the box from the latest shipment, came back upstairs and gave the map to me. The man at the checkout told me to have a nice trip. I did not have the heart to tell him that I was not going anywhere.
Reasons to Love Crazy Mocha
Crazy Mocha is a chain of local coffee shops in Pittsburgh. They have locations throughout the city, in Bloomfield, Lawrenceville, the South Side, Oakland, the Carnegie Library of Pittsburgh (how cool is that!) and Shadyside.
The décor is bright, the drinks are cheap and the desserts beyond yummy. The South Side location routinely makes slices of cheesecakes from the Cheesecake Factory up the street available along with the rest of the dessert rotation. They also serve vegetarian sandwiches and giant cookies.
Those are all good things that most successful coffee shops possess. But Crazy Mocha has a few extras that put them over the top.
- A shop in the Main Branch of the Carnegie Library of Pittsburgh. Seriously, how cool is that? Credit has to be given to CLP for not only putting a coffee shop in the first floor but choosing a local outfit over a national chain such as Starbucks or Caribou Coffee. Nothing against either chain, since I spend so much time in the Starbucks near my office that they actually have my order ready when I walk through the door.
- They support other local businesses. One of the most successful is Dreaming Ant, a DVD rental store run out of the back of the Bloomfield location of Crazy Mocha.
- Free wireless access at all of their locations.
- Free access to computers for surfing at their South Side location.
- No Fox News on their televisions. That alone makes them worth my patronage. Fox News is ubiquitous in Pittsburgh. It is especially painful to have to listen to them at my gym. Although I usually get angry enough by the massive stupidity of the anchors to motivate me through the rest of my workout.
I'm not going to make it for the haircut or the new driver's license. I'll save it for another day.
Tuesday, May 16, 2006
Free Day!
Wednesday is a comp day for working the past two Saturdays. I should have two days, but I forgot to negotiate for the first Saturday, so I lost out on that.
I plan to sleep late, get my hair cut, renew my driver's license (including photo), go to the gym and spend two hours at Crazy Mocha drinking tea and taking advantage of the free wireless.
Bliss.
I plan to sleep late, get my hair cut, renew my driver's license (including photo), go to the gym and spend two hours at Crazy Mocha drinking tea and taking advantage of the free wireless.
Bliss.
Sunday, May 14, 2006
Blessings
In all of the sudden chaos, I forgot that there was good news this week.
Many years ago, at the encouragement of a friend, I wrote a children's story about our cat Axel as a Christmas gift for J. My original intent was to illustrate the book, but I am not good at drawing animals or people. The project was left unfinished, with the text following me through three computers (and three homes as well).
My friend got back in touch with me recently and asked what happened to the project. I told him about my lack of skill and we discussed searching for an art student who might be willing to do drawings on specification for a portfolio.
Through a series of circumstances B has found a graphic artist who may be interested in creating some illustrations and knows a publisher of children's books.
I think the deities are trying to tell me something.
Many years ago, at the encouragement of a friend, I wrote a children's story about our cat Axel as a Christmas gift for J. My original intent was to illustrate the book, but I am not good at drawing animals or people. The project was left unfinished, with the text following me through three computers (and three homes as well).
My friend got back in touch with me recently and asked what happened to the project. I told him about my lack of skill and we discussed searching for an art student who might be willing to do drawings on specification for a portfolio.
Through a series of circumstances B has found a graphic artist who may be interested in creating some illustrations and knows a publisher of children's books.
I think the deities are trying to tell me something.
Thursday, May 11, 2006
Bad News
I was going to write about Graydon Carter, who put a name, via this month's Letter to the Editor in Vanity Fair, to what I was feeling all day Sunday and Monday of this week. That is "fuckup fatigue", a phrase he attributed to Bill Maher.
But I just talked to my parents. My dad was diagnosed with Stage II Prostate cancer today. He has to have more tests, including a bone scan, to make sure the cells are not lurking elsewhere. He will have surgery by the end of month.
I'm so tired.
But I just talked to my parents. My dad was diagnosed with Stage II Prostate cancer today. He has to have more tests, including a bone scan, to make sure the cells are not lurking elsewhere. He will have surgery by the end of month.
I'm so tired.
Monday, May 08, 2006
I Am Weary (Let Me Rest)
I am weary.
Yesterday's family breakfast was awful.
J and I went to his parents for breakfast. His parents live roughly 40 minutes away, so we were up and on the road early to make it by the appointed time of 10:00 am. Getting out of bed was not easy, as I spent the majority of my Saturday at work.
Breakfast was in honor of J's cousin, a lovely and smart young woman who is leaving shortly to study Chinese in Taiwan for two months. It may be the last time we see her until Christmas, as she will return long enough to wash her clothes before going on a semester abroad in Poland.
J and I don't share the same political views as most of his family. We normally take the path of least resistance and keep our mouths shut as we want family gatherings to be civilized. I have broken this rule twice, both times in an effort to bring civility back to the room.
I don't think I will be doing that anymore. Not if I have to endure the following:
Today I stewed. Angry at his family for being so awful. Angry at myself for taking the easy way out under the explanation that I was trying to keep the peace. Angry at J for not respecting my desire to remove myself from the situation.
J stewed also, for the same reasons. Angry that his older brother had turned into fuckwad. Angry that he did not speak up. Angry because I was so upset.
I am weary.
Yesterday's family breakfast was awful.
J and I went to his parents for breakfast. His parents live roughly 40 minutes away, so we were up and on the road early to make it by the appointed time of 10:00 am. Getting out of bed was not easy, as I spent the majority of my Saturday at work.
Breakfast was in honor of J's cousin, a lovely and smart young woman who is leaving shortly to study Chinese in Taiwan for two months. It may be the last time we see her until Christmas, as she will return long enough to wash her clothes before going on a semester abroad in Poland.
J and I don't share the same political views as most of his family. We normally take the path of least resistance and keep our mouths shut as we want family gatherings to be civilized. I have broken this rule twice, both times in an effort to bring civility back to the room.
I don't think I will be doing that anymore. Not if I have to endure the following:
- Negative remarks about other faiths. (Hello? Did you forget that I come from a mixed religious household? Did you forget that I had to listen to that crap for years from my father's relatives?)
- J's aunt warning his cousin not to bring home a Chinese boyfriend.
- J's aunt (again) making the comment that it was ok for a white couple to adopt a child from a different race, but it was not ok for two people from different races to get married.
- The majority of J's family dismissing the comments as a "generational thing".
- The self-congratulatory, smug tone that most of his family took when discussing how not racist they are. Coming out of the mouths of people who have never gone to school, sat next to or worked with someone who was a race other than white? After making the joke "What do you get when you get two black men together? Trouble".
Today I stewed. Angry at his family for being so awful. Angry at myself for taking the easy way out under the explanation that I was trying to keep the peace. Angry at J for not respecting my desire to remove myself from the situation.
J stewed also, for the same reasons. Angry that his older brother had turned into fuckwad. Angry that he did not speak up. Angry because I was so upset.
I am weary.
Saturday, May 06, 2006
Edwin McCain and Idiot Me
In my continuing quest to find interesting things to do in Pittsburgh I dragged J to the Rex Theater last night to watch Edwin McCain play. We were joined by our friends JW and K.
The Rex is a former movie palace. The lobby is tiny with a shabby bar on one side of the room, a grand piano in a corner and well executed murals on all the walls. The bathrooms are also decorated with murals of James Dean (for the men) and Marilyn Monroe (for the women).
The current owners ripped out the seats, left the old material on the walls, screwed multicolored lightbulbs into the sconces and called it a day. There is a second, badly built bar (serving cheap beer, and only cheap beer) under the balcony stairs. A sound booth is located in the opposite corner. I've seen better built setups at rock concerts. This venue was not designed to impress.
Except that the acoustics are quite good and the balcony is a popular place to hang out while watching a show. People don't seem to mind the sticky floor, dirty white folding chairs and the tallshakyey wooden bar tables.
Edwin McCain was fantastic. Funny, sarcastic and full of energy. One of the members of the band opened the show. I liked his songs enough to blow $15.00 on a self produced CD. JW pointed out the copyright date (2000) with the comment "I give the guy credit. He keeps trying".
After the performance, "Security" shooed us out into the lobby since we did not have "Aftershow" passes. Since the doors between the theater and the lobby are made of glass, I was content to watch Edwin meet "Aftershow" fans and have pictures taken. I was staring off into space when one of the fans walked out into the lobby, slapped a pass onto my shirt and said "Here. Go meet him". A second person gave K her pass.
An aside: Past history has shown that I turn into a total idiot when meeting someone who is
A. Seriously Famous or
B. Famous-to-me and Highly Respected.
For example: In 1992, shortly before Tip O'Neill passed away, my family saw him in a steakhouse on Cape Cod. My mother, not normally given to fits of hysteria, was over the moon at the thought she was eating in the same room as the former Speaker of the House of Representatives.
Mom watched O'Neill like a hawk. When the man rose to leave the restaurant, my mother followed him out into the lobby. Not one to miss an opportunity to watch a parent make an idiot of herself, I went with her.
And made an idiot out of myself. My mother was poised, calm and charming. She thanked him for his service to the United States and shook his hand. He asked if we were sisters and shook my hand. In the presence of greatness so close, I babbled like an idiot.
Forward to last night. I stand with two Aftershow passes in my hand (K handed hers to me). K and J are urging me to go inside and meet him. K is handing me her cell phone so I can get a picture taken. My feet are frozen to the floor.
JW comes back and I hand him the second pass. We wander inside. The crew chases us away from the stage (they were tearing down) and we wait. No Edwin McCain. Thinking that we have missed our opportunity, we go back out to the lobby.
Edwin McCain comes back inside. He has been out near the tour bus signing autographs. JW and I go back in and I, in a polite, tiny voice, ask him if he would not mind one more picture.
He says yes. He smiles. His tone is friendly. I am terrified. He puts one arm around me and we poise for a photo. His back is sweaty from playing. The tips of his fingers brush the back of my shirt.
The damn camera phone doesn't work.
I smile at him. Shrug my shoulders. Say thanks in a barely audible voice and flee. My record as an idiot unbroken.
In other news, A flash mob invades Best Buy.
Read some of the other entries. I think my favorite is the McDonald's Bathroom Attendant stunt.
The Rex is a former movie palace. The lobby is tiny with a shabby bar on one side of the room, a grand piano in a corner and well executed murals on all the walls. The bathrooms are also decorated with murals of James Dean (for the men) and Marilyn Monroe (for the women).
The current owners ripped out the seats, left the old material on the walls, screwed multicolored lightbulbs into the sconces and called it a day. There is a second, badly built bar (serving cheap beer, and only cheap beer) under the balcony stairs. A sound booth is located in the opposite corner. I've seen better built setups at rock concerts. This venue was not designed to impress.
Except that the acoustics are quite good and the balcony is a popular place to hang out while watching a show. People don't seem to mind the sticky floor, dirty white folding chairs and the tallshakyey wooden bar tables.
Edwin McCain was fantastic. Funny, sarcastic and full of energy. One of the members of the band opened the show. I liked his songs enough to blow $15.00 on a self produced CD. JW pointed out the copyright date (2000) with the comment "I give the guy credit. He keeps trying".
After the performance, "Security" shooed us out into the lobby since we did not have "Aftershow" passes. Since the doors between the theater and the lobby are made of glass, I was content to watch Edwin meet "Aftershow" fans and have pictures taken. I was staring off into space when one of the fans walked out into the lobby, slapped a pass onto my shirt and said "Here. Go meet him". A second person gave K her pass.
An aside: Past history has shown that I turn into a total idiot when meeting someone who is
A. Seriously Famous or
B. Famous-to-me and Highly Respected.
For example: In 1992, shortly before Tip O'Neill passed away, my family saw him in a steakhouse on Cape Cod. My mother, not normally given to fits of hysteria, was over the moon at the thought she was eating in the same room as the former Speaker of the House of Representatives.
Mom watched O'Neill like a hawk. When the man rose to leave the restaurant, my mother followed him out into the lobby. Not one to miss an opportunity to watch a parent make an idiot of herself, I went with her.
And made an idiot out of myself. My mother was poised, calm and charming. She thanked him for his service to the United States and shook his hand. He asked if we were sisters and shook my hand. In the presence of greatness so close, I babbled like an idiot.
Forward to last night. I stand with two Aftershow passes in my hand (K handed hers to me). K and J are urging me to go inside and meet him. K is handing me her cell phone so I can get a picture taken. My feet are frozen to the floor.
JW comes back and I hand him the second pass. We wander inside. The crew chases us away from the stage (they were tearing down) and we wait. No Edwin McCain. Thinking that we have missed our opportunity, we go back out to the lobby.
Edwin McCain comes back inside. He has been out near the tour bus signing autographs. JW and I go back in and I, in a polite, tiny voice, ask him if he would not mind one more picture.
He says yes. He smiles. His tone is friendly. I am terrified. He puts one arm around me and we poise for a photo. His back is sweaty from playing. The tips of his fingers brush the back of my shirt.
The damn camera phone doesn't work.
I smile at him. Shrug my shoulders. Say thanks in a barely audible voice and flee. My record as an idiot unbroken.
In other news, A flash mob invades Best Buy.
Read some of the other entries. I think my favorite is the McDonald's Bathroom Attendant stunt.
Thursday, May 04, 2006
Tuesday, May 02, 2006
Bad Daughter
NOTICE: This is a whine. Bypass if you are not in the mood.
I received an overdose of maternal guilt and disapproval last night. It, compounded by the pressure to complete a lot of work in a short period of time and the scant selection of my favorite genre of frivolous novels at CLP has left me in a cranky, cranky mood.
I am a bad daughter right now because I dared to voice the idea that I would probably not attend the second of two wedding showers in honor of my future sister-in-law.
Before I go further into revealing what an awful person I am, I like K. She makes my younger brother, who I adore, glow with happiness. Her biggest flaw is that she is a little right wing-ish, but so is my brother. Since she makes him very happy, I'm willing to overlook the flaw.
The first shower is being hosted by my mother in my hometown, ostensibly because there are a lot of people reluctant to travel the 1.25 hours to the location of the second fiesta. I am happily driving the 2.5 hours to make it to this event, which is being held early on a Saturday afternoon.
The second is being hosted by K's friends and family, approximately 4 hours from Pittsburgh (and 1.25 hours from my parents house). The date has changed and the new day is on a Sunday, in the mid-afternoon, on a weekend in which I already have plans involving a considerable amount of driving.
Mom's reasoning is that since both of her sisters are driving the 4+ hours to attend K's first shower, then I have no reason for missing her second one. The irony that she is hosting the first event because people are reluctant to travel 1.25 hours is lost on her. So is the fact that both of her sisters would have a shorter drive if they attended the second one.
I don't know what it is about weddings that make normally sane people (like my mother) turn into lunatics. I hoped to be excluded from crazy behavior this time around, since I was the target six years ago when I got married. When I learned that my role in the wedding would be limited to doing a reading, I was thrilled. No bridesmaid duties, no bridesmaid dress (which is pretty, just not on me), no obligation to decorate the church or reception hall. The only thing I had to do was buy an outrageously expensive gift and have a good time.
Until I met the disapproving silence of my mother on the phone last night. Never mind that I have the full force of Miss Manners, Dear Prudence and Emily Post behind me on this one.
If that was not enough, the mother-in-law called an hour later, requesting our presence at Sunday breakfast, with a huge side of maternal guilt.
I received an overdose of maternal guilt and disapproval last night. It, compounded by the pressure to complete a lot of work in a short period of time and the scant selection of my favorite genre of frivolous novels at CLP has left me in a cranky, cranky mood.
I am a bad daughter right now because I dared to voice the idea that I would probably not attend the second of two wedding showers in honor of my future sister-in-law.
Before I go further into revealing what an awful person I am, I like K. She makes my younger brother, who I adore, glow with happiness. Her biggest flaw is that she is a little right wing-ish, but so is my brother. Since she makes him very happy, I'm willing to overlook the flaw.
The first shower is being hosted by my mother in my hometown, ostensibly because there are a lot of people reluctant to travel the 1.25 hours to the location of the second fiesta. I am happily driving the 2.5 hours to make it to this event, which is being held early on a Saturday afternoon.
The second is being hosted by K's friends and family, approximately 4 hours from Pittsburgh (and 1.25 hours from my parents house). The date has changed and the new day is on a Sunday, in the mid-afternoon, on a weekend in which I already have plans involving a considerable amount of driving.
Mom's reasoning is that since both of her sisters are driving the 4+ hours to attend K's first shower, then I have no reason for missing her second one. The irony that she is hosting the first event because people are reluctant to travel 1.25 hours is lost on her. So is the fact that both of her sisters would have a shorter drive if they attended the second one.
I don't know what it is about weddings that make normally sane people (like my mother) turn into lunatics. I hoped to be excluded from crazy behavior this time around, since I was the target six years ago when I got married. When I learned that my role in the wedding would be limited to doing a reading, I was thrilled. No bridesmaid duties, no bridesmaid dress (which is pretty, just not on me), no obligation to decorate the church or reception hall. The only thing I had to do was buy an outrageously expensive gift and have a good time.
Until I met the disapproving silence of my mother on the phone last night. Never mind that I have the full force of Miss Manners, Dear Prudence and Emily Post behind me on this one.
If that was not enough, the mother-in-law called an hour later, requesting our presence at Sunday breakfast, with a huge side of maternal guilt.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)