Archive: Friends and Family

Birthday 2009 will have some big shoes to fill, because yesterday was one of the best birthdays I have ever had. Now, that’s a pretty bold statement, considering that when I turned seven, we got a huge blizzard, so I got to sledding and open presents instead of going to school. But, really, this year was a milestone birthday, made only sweeter by the lovely Internet wishes. Thanks so much, everyone!

As soon as I got home from work, I opened up my presents from JG, starting with two new games! And then, there it was, The Mystery Gift of Awesomeness, just waiting to have the paper ripped off. One good tug with each hand revealed —

A fleece blanket? Um…

I flipped it over, and I still did not quite understand: What the heck is a Slanket?

A Slanket, you see, is a giant fleece throw with built-in sleeves, which is perfect for someone who is constantly cold and always reading, namely, ME! I did not fully grasp the awesomeness until I tried out this newfangled blanket, whose voluminous folds of softness completely enveloped me. Oh, sweet warmth! Now, my arms won’t get chilly when I’m working through my book club selection or making my fourteenth volleyball scarf. And, hey, if I happen to fall asleep in it, we will consider that a side benefit. Ted was unexpectedly hostile toward the new living room addition, which does not bode well for his future snuggle quotient with me. Although I was initially puzzled when I unwrapped the present, I admit that none of JG’s clues were misleading: the Slanket is big, light, the single product of a company, unknown to me before this point, a great gift candidate for his mother, and — yes — it is truly awesome. Good job, Husband!

JG had to wrest me out of the arms of the Slanket before I realized that I only had twenty minutes before our cupcake-eating guests were supposed to arrive, so I hustled to set up the table with unfrosted Funfetti cupcakes (both regular size and mini), frosting, sprinkles, and flowers. Our friends came bearing birthday cards, an amazing floral arrangement, and a cheerful, potted gerbera daisy that I brought in to the office today. JG and I had a really wonderful time with our friends, and having dessert together was a great way to spend a school-night birthday.

I resisted the urge to document people’s “sample platters” of mini cupcakes, the cute cupcake creations that our friends’ kids made, and Ted’s overflowing joy of having new playmates because I just wanted to sit back and enjoy everyone’s company. The journalistic need to get everything on the record didn’t exactly jive with a laid-back party, and I was okay with that. It was good to simply be there without trying to take photographic notes the whole time. After everyone headed home, I packed up the remaining cupcakes for JG to take to school. I’ll be surprised if any of those come back to the house; hungry teachers swoop down on baked goods like vultures.

Tonight, JG and I are going out to dinner at our beloved Half Moon, and then we’re spending the weekend at his parents’ house. We all know what that means — let the birthday festivities continue!

What, it’s not normal to celebrate Christmas in mid-January? Although we’ve retired the CD case of yuletide tunes, we celebrated one last spurt of Christmas spirit over the weekend when JG’s parents and sister came to visit us. Since JG and I spent our Christmas away from his side of the family, they swung by for a couple of days en route to moving his sister back in for college.

Speaking of JG’s sister, she spent the fall semester studying abroad in Sydney, Australia, so our contact with her has been limited to receiving breathless e-mails rife with exclamation points that made us wonder if she was actually doing any studying between cliff-diving and shopping. Sure, seeing her brother and sister-in-law was nice, and she even got a bonus Christmas present out of the weekend, but all of that was peripheral compared to the fact that SHE FINALLY GOT TO SEE TED! If she didn’t live in on-campus housing, we would have had to search her car before she left to make sure there were no Westie-type stowaways. As consolation for leaving “the cutest dog ever,” we promised her that she could drive down and dog-sit any time she wanted, as if it were a favor to her.

Lately, I have been feeling the drain of not having any time off, so I wasn’t overly enthused about spending the weekend entertaining, but it was surprisingly relaxing. Once we set out the coffee maker and towels, JG’s parents were essentially self-sufficient in our house. We spent our Saturday exchanging Christmas gifts (I scored new cake plates, additions to my Madeleine L’Engle collection, and a handmade quilt made out of beloved t-shirts; meanwhile, JG has been driving me crazy with his efforts to play his authentic Australian didgeridoo.), going out for lunch, and walking around downtown in the balmy 50-degree weather. I always get a little thrill when people say that they love our town; it really shows up well on the weekends.

Cashing in on the excuse that JG’s family had never been to The Melting Pot, all five of us went there for dinner. I hope going three times in ten months doesn’t constitute overkill. JG and I have a great time on our own, but we’ve kept our routine pretty safe since we found combinations we liked. The magic of going for fondue with five people is that we could justify ordering double of everything! The four-course meal that included two cheese selections (cheddar-lager and spinach-artichoke) and two chocolate choices (chocolate-raspberry and s’more flambé) was more than enough for five people, and we practically rolled out of the place before we crammed into a Civic for the ride home.

I declare Christmas celebrated.

Last night, JG and I arrived at home after a whirlwind weekend at my parents’ house in Connecticut for our early family Christmas. Between Friday night and Sunday, we spent twelve hours in the car and consumed countless calories. Although I’m not glad to be at work at the moment, I’m relieved to be home, since the trip was somewhat grueling. I find it odd to go back to my parents’ house for an overnight stay. We haven’t been back there for over a year, but I didn’t expect to feel so unnervingly disoriented, as though someone had hidden the map, even if I should have known my way around.

Part of the problem was that I literally didn’t know where things were. My mom renovated the kitchen over the summer, so when I started to make cookies, I had a constant stream of questions about where I could find a whisk, the granulated sugar, a wire rack. I felt oddly out of proportion in the house, too. I asked if the kitchen stools had been shortened to accommodate the new kitchen island; no, they were always that short. The Christmas tree seemed smaller, as well, but that didn’t make sense because I haven’t grown an inch for ten years. Sleeping arrangements were off kilter because my bedroom has been turned into a study for my mom, which I don’t mind at all. JG and I slept in my sister’s bedroom, on my old day bed, which was weird all around. I felt out of place in my sister’s bed room, lying on my childhood bed, next to my husband, who certainly wasn’t around when I last slept on it with any frequency. Maybe it’s just strange to me to be married and sleeping in my parents’ house.

I think this disorientation is indicative of what continues to be an awkward transition into oxymoronic adult childhood. My parents and I seem to have trouble adjusting to the coexisting facts that they are my parents, but I am adult. Somewhere along the lines, either the system or I changed (or both, I guess), such that the two no longer meshed in an intuitive way. While I felt completely at home in the snowy, gray, muffled world of New England winter, my parents’ house, while comfortable and warm, was oddly foreign. I know that I have made my own world with JG that consists of our house, Ted, and our friends, but feeling like an exchange student in my childhood home was a jolt to my system, even though it was good to spend time with my parents and my sister.

As much as I don’t savor the thought of coming in to work all this week, I know it’ll be quiet in these parts, and I’m grateful that we can spend all of Christmas Day at home. As I sit in an eerily quiet hallway, I count down the minutes until I can leave at noon, and unrelated thoughts flit across my brain. Should we pick up rolls to make sandwiches from leftover turkey? … I wonder if JG has wrapped Ted’s gifts … I need to stuff JG’s stocking … Tonight, we’re watching A Charlie Brown Christmas! … I have to do laundry … I really should order a new day planner for work … I need to take a nap before the Christmas Eve service … I can’t forget to call my grandmother tomorrow … Happy Birthday, Kip …

For the past three Thanksgivings, JG and I have gone up to Mimi’s from Wednesday to Saturday. We look forward to yearly rituals to follow and games to play, but I would be remiss if I did not mention the traditional Black Friday shopping marathon. The girls get together and fan out within each store, scouting for the other, digging through piles, and ducking and weaving through crowds. Within a warm, glowy sphere of family togetherness, I think cutting off other girls from striped sweaters might be my favorite part.

This year, however, I’m not able to take time off on the day after Thanksgiving, so JG and I are heading up this afternoon and coming back home on Thursday night. I’ve worked longer hours so that I can leave early today and we can make it in time for the pre-Thanksgiving dinner at Mimi’s club. At least we have that. I’m trying not to be a baby about missing the post-Thanksgiving traditions this year. I mean, I can handle it for one year, and it’s really more of a function of a probation period for time off than anything else. It’ll be quiet in the office, right? I’ll get a lot of work done…

Anyway! I first joined in on JG’s family’s Thanksgiving festivities when JG and I got engaged, and I was rather overwhelmed. My, you people are all loud talkers. My, you are all very passionate about your sports teams. My, you are all so tall! I had memorized everyone’s names beforehand, and I won a few games throughout the weekend, so I managed fairly well. The real shock came at the dinner table.

First of all, JG’s family eats their turkey and whatnot around the noon hour, whereas I am used to an evening meal. Second, my mom usually concocts a different stuffing every year with all sorts of goodies in it, but Mimi’s version is more basic. Basic like just bread. Third — and this was the biggest cause of gasping — there were no green vegetables to be had. In all fairness, there were creamed pearl onions (ick), but there was not even a tossed salad or a green bean casserole to be seen.

Now, I am a very balanced eater. I take the food pyramid to heart even though I know it’s outdated, and I try to maintain a healthy selection of carbs, vegetables, and protein on my plate. I strive to have colorful meals because they are more likely to be more balanced, but I know that’s not a given. As I circled around the buffet during that Thanksgiving meal, I watched my plate fill with turkey, potatoes, macaroni and cheese, stuffing, and gravy. Translation: protein, carb, carb, carb/dairy, carb, and fat. Also, beige, beige, orange, beige, and brown.

I wanted to cry. Or go out and eat some grass.

But instead, I ate my beige meal silently. Don’t get me wrong, the food was excellent, but I felt my nutritional balance going all out of whack and screaming, “Where is my vitamin C? My iron? My folic acid? I need some roughage!”

The next year, I asked my mother-in-law if I could request a salad to be added to the menu. Mimi has a full slate of dishes that go in and out of the oven with military precision, so I knew that it would be a tough sell. I would have to be low-maintenance. “Nothing fancy,” I said, “Even a bagged salad with some baby carrots would be great. Something green. Is that possible at all?”

“Sure!” she said brightly. “I’ll just take care of the salad. It’s probably good for all of us.”

I went into my second in-lawed Thanksgiving with high hopes, but it turns out that my mother-in-law’s views of a salad are not quite the same as mine. She had made a tasty dish, to be sure, but it consisted mostly of broccoli slaw slivers, grated carrots, a gallon of Italian dressing, slivered almonds, and a nice, crunchy layer of uncooked ramen noodles on the top. It was, to my disappointment, a beige salad.

Ah, well. What can you do?

This year, I have given up on my dream of romaine lettuce and a vinaigrette — that elusive “something green.” JG keeps reminding me that “there’s green stuff,” referring to a perennial favorite dish. Yes, but it’s made of Jell-O and marshmallows, dear.

Post-Thanksgiving edit: Hallelujah! Green bean casserole came to the party!