rhymes with rhyme














navigation
current
archives
links page
profile















adjustment
December 27, 2007

I got my back and my attitude adjusted on the way home from the office yesterday. I didn't realize just how much of my foul temper stemmed from my physical discomfort. But after a massive adjustment by Doc L, my spirits lifted.

And I sank into a coma. Seriously. I went home and crashed. I ate a sandwich, curled up in my chair with my quilt, and passed out for 2 hours.

Apparently I haven't been getting the kind of sleep I need, either.


I did wake up after awhile, but not for long. I did my nightly routine, put together my invitation for the girls, played a little Cubis, then went to bed about 9 or so. It took a while to fall asleep, what with MrB entwined in my arms for an intensive snuggle session. He's either still catching up from the deprivations of the kennel, or freshly traumatized by having to spend the whole day in his crate yesterday. He's not used to that.
I'm not done with the burdens of family Christmasses yet, as we are all supposed to be gathering at Spouse's youngest brother's on Sunday for dinner and "Family Game Night". I'm already kinda pissed about it, too...seems that our "gracious hosts" ENSIL and JF can't manage to throw a dinner together. They have turned to P and to Spouse (which means ME) for assistance. So Spouse told them "we" (which means ME) will make the main course. A pan of lasagna and a pan of baked mostaccioli with sausage. I don't mind too much--but can someone tell me why I can't just make one big pan of mostaccioli? Why the hell do I have to make two different entrees?

The answer, of course is obvious. It's not hard to volunteer for lots of hard work, when you won't actually be doing any of it!

Actually, I'm surprised he's letting me get away with sausage, and not requiring me to make meatballs, on top of everything else.

Anyway--so. That's me for the main dish. P&E are bringing salad and dessert. But...wait! What does that leave for the so-called "hosts" to contribute, you ask?

Bread.
Yep. They're providing the garlic bread.

Whatever. I don't care that much, because I like to cook, and I make good Italian food. But why does this kind of thing come up at the last minute, instead of at the beginning? What's so hard about saying "Why don't we all get together on the 30th, everybody bring something? No, they volunteer to handle everything, and then get cold feet.

I need to remind myself of certain things about this family. Judging from my late father-in-law, my husband, P, and what I've seen of Spouse's cousins, they all have the fixed idea in their mind that throwing a party means anticipating and surpassing every guest's wildest expectation. The host does everything, and the guests don't lift a finger. So the notions of cooperation and distribution of responsibility blows their fucking minds.

Also true is the fact that the old lady was always anti-social and unfriendly (and completely uninterested in cooking) so that they were never got exposed to the informal easiness of friends getting together, or the sort of family life where the "potluck supper" figured at all.

And for all I know, that whole concept may be some kind of Protestant tradition that is taboo for Chicago Catholics or something. What the hell do I know, with my with my frame of reference shaped by my Southeastern Iowa, Presbyterian/Methodist/Lutheran* upbringing? These are the people who invented bringing "a dish to pass", what with church suppers and potluck banquets for everything from the Cub Scouts to the Band Boosters. I've got Cambell's Cream of Mushroom in my veins, baby.



*Or as I like to call it--Presbymetheran. Definition: Dad's parents were Methodist, Mom's were Lutheran, so they did the only sensible thing.
They joined the Presbyterian Church.

I took my little tree down during my lunch hour today; they are forecasting a snowstorm tomorrow and I want to get out of work double-quick, so I figured I'd do it today. Didn't take long, and it needed to be done, so that I'm not haunted by the ghost of W's mom, who was crazy superstitious about a tree staying up till after the New Year. I was never crazy about leaving it up myself, but W's mom, rest her soul, was a paranoid fanatic about it. A little of that rubbed off on me, I guess. I deleted most of my other decorations yesterday, save for the wrapping paper stuck all over my cube. I didn't put that there--my co-workers did. So they can pull it down. I'm done.


Reading: "Heidi", By Johanna Spyri. Childhood favorites revisited. I got this book for Christmas when I was eight (along with "Alice's Adventures In Wonderland" and "Through the Looking Glass, and What Alice Found There") and so I always enjoy re-reading it at Christmas time.

Listening: The perfectly awesome Holiday Weetamix 2007.

At Random: click here




|

recede - proceed

hosted by DiaryLand.com