Looks like we made it
So, the parents have come and gone. Miranda’s mental health seems relatively intact and my Susie Homemaker disguise has been neatly folded and stored, so I guess Operation: Meet and Greet Parents was a success. I think all and all, everybody had a bloody good time. Right, Mirando?
Get. me. out. of. here.
No, seriously, they are a hoot. And I have to say, I am seriously missing her dad’s faithful observance of the 5 p.m. cocktail hour. Promptly at 5-ish he would simply stand and ask (more or less rhetorically, since, um, who can say no?) “shall I make martinis?” and then dutifully march into the kitchen to do his handiwork. I found this gesture extremely endearing, and after milling it around in my head for awhile, decided that the absence of the formal, late afternoon cocktail hour in the life of the average American is representative of everything that is wrong with this nation. Although I was a bit intimidated at first, Miranda’s mom proved to be very charming as well. She figured Soduko puzzles during spare moments, is incredibly crafty and will talk to just about anyone. Together they make a very cute, eccentric little pair. And dad still calls mom “darling” and “sweetheart” and practically ran across the room to help mom with her jacket, so you’ve got to love that.
Easter Sunday I had to leave the idyllic comforts of someone else’s family and join the craziness of my own at my Aunt’s house in Lemont. Here are some of the highlights:
* Aunt Mary Ann DIDN’T BRING THE PEEPS. Is no tradition sacred anymore?! How could she be such a downer? I don’t even like the damn things, but it’s really not Easter in my family without people putting each other in half nelsons to get at these vile sugar-coated pockets of evil. I really can think of no greater slap in the face to the Easter tradition.
* Grandma did the cooking. I have to say, she is one 93 year old that can cook! Every vegetable had at least half a stick of butter in it, and she had two fully stocked relish trays. Praise be to vinegar-based foods.
* The lamb cake was beheaded.
Now, I must confess, one year Deb and I accidentally beheaded the lamb by trying to reattach his/her jelly bean nose, and we pretty much assumed we were going to hell for it. This year, the lamb was maliciously and purposefully beheaded, and I can only hope my conscientious objection is good for something, or I am really screwed.
* I received many awful, annoying singing/animated stuffed animals.
This is nothing new. Over the years, I think these plush toys have singlehandedly kept the Brown Elephant in business. I love my mom, but I do think she has me confused with a 7 year old, so I make sure to reintroduce myself every time we see each other.
So, that’s the weekend in a nutshell. Let the recovery begin.
