Archive: Friends and Family

What do you know – I get a dog and, despite my raging incompetence, I become a beaming, braggy owner in less than 48 hours. I’m like one of those parents who will whip out a clear plastic, wallet-sized photo holder to unfortunate passersby:

“Did you hear that we got a dog? You didn’t? Let me show you! This is Ted on the grass…and this is Ted on the deck…”

But seriously, he is too cute! How could I resist that face?

Lucky for me, I am not the only one of this persuasion. In addition to comments with a serious case of capital-letters-itis, a spate of picture e-mailing and internet musings has produced a bevy of ringing endorsements for our little adoptee:

“Aww he’s GREAT!!! I find it HILARIOUS that he’s smaller than JG’s head! Umm, saying nothing about the size of JG’s head of course…only the size of the dog…err, yes… And I agree that he is VERY endearing. He’ll probably try to use that to his advantage, so be vigilant. :o) ”
— Best friend, recipient of the panicked, pre-puppy voicemail

“Oh my goodness gracious!!! He is so ADORABLE!!!! If you ever need someone to watch him, I’d be more than happy to drive the 2 hours! I love him already!!!”
— One of my bridesmaids

“OMG he is sooooo adorable!!! So you got a puppy?!?!?! How is he?!?! Ahhh I wish I was there to see him, but I will just have to make a trip over Christmas!”
— JG’s sister, who just arrived in Australia to study abroad for the semester

“I LOVE YOUR DOG! I think he and Sam could be great friends! You must bring him along when you come to visit! Can’t wait to see that dog in person!”
— Mimi, who has a Lhasa Apso named Samantha

“He is, obviously, legen…wait for it…dary!”
— JG’s mom, in an impressive show of HIMYM inside jokery

“People, I warn you, unless you are stronger-willed and less susceptible to whimpering out loud whilst at work at the cuteness of a puppy, be careful before clicking over to RA’s Flickr stream. Because, ack, that baby Westie makes Alex and my leash hand’s ache with emptiness and now we HAVE to go to the puppy store on the way home OR ELSE.”
— Deb, in response to my lure of vicarious puppy photos

The masses have spoken and apparently, Ted is The Cutest Dog Ever. Sorry, other dogs. I shrug and look sheepish because, alas, there is nothing I can do about it.

I was invited to a bridal shower that’s taking place this weekend, but we have other plans, so I sent my apologies along with a recipe card (chicken with garlic and shallots) to be included in the recipe collection. The bride is a childhood friend of JG’s, and while I wouldn’t have been wholly at ease, I still would have gone to the shower to boost the young person ratio. It’s tough to be a bridesmaid where the majority of party attendees consists of mothers, grandmothers, great aunts, and the like, so I try to attend when I’m invited, even though showers are pretty low on my list of Things I Actively Enjoy.

Conveniently, the bride and her fiancé were staying at our house on their way up to Cape Cod, so I had the chance to actually give her a gift. I thought it might be rather awkward, however, because, um, my default bridal shower gift is lingerie. If there’s something on the registry that I feel strongly compelled to buy, like a digital meat thermometer, I’ll usually throw in a cute camisole set to go with it. Then, the bride gets function and fun, right? In this case, though, the bride wasn’t really my friend; I was invited more because JG wasn’t allowed. Do friends-in-law buy each other lingerie?

On the one hand, it is what I would have brought to the shower anyway. It’s fun to get lingerie as a gift, right? And isn’t it kind of weird to shop for it for oneself? Or is that just me?

On the other, paranoid hand – what the heck was I thinking? I didn’t know what size the bride was or what colors she liked or at what point she drew the line between sexy and trashy. How could I make a vicarious lingerie decisions for someone I have only known through catch-up conversations three times a year? How?!

So, I did what any flummoxed gift-giver would do. I called my mother-in-law for a sanity check. She had known the bride for at least fifteen years, which was roughly 14.75 years longer than I had, and I posed my uncertainty to her. “I think lingerie is a great gift!” she said, brightly. “Yes, that’s the size I would go with, too. Just include a gift receipt and it’ll be fine.”

Okay, then.

I made many, many laps around Victoria’s Secret. The salesgirls kept offering to help, but they declared me a hopeless case when I made my eighteenth turn around the underwear display. After much internal deliberation, I left with a sheer yellow babydoll with white satin trim and, for a more casual occasion, a pink camisole with three complementary bottoms. Oh, and a gift receipt.

When the time came to present that shiny pink gift bag, I was trembling. Was the babydoll too transparent? What if she didn’t like yellow? Or pink? Then we would have an awkward scene of her trying to pretend she liked everything while I did my best to burrow into the floor. I swallowed hard. At the pivotal moment, the bride lifted out the babydoll and exclaimed, “Ooh! I love lingerie! This is so pretty!” Well, how about that.

Perhaps this occasion was one of those times where JG was correct in his assessment and I did, indeed, think too much. The rest of the time, though, I’m pretty sure that I think about things with the exact amount of consideration that they deserve.

When the cousins, aunts, and uncles of JG’s family assemble, competition reigns and bragging rights are the only trophy.

“Bet you can’t fit ten grapes in your mouth.”

“Who can toss the most bottle caps in the bowl?”

“Ha, I finished the crossword that you couldn’t!”

“But can anyone make it from here?”

And so on.

On the beach, the whole family partakes in a variety of sport events to see who’s got game: quoits, four-square, paddle ball, bocce, Frisbee, and some melee called “rundown.” After working up a sweat, they all plunge into the ocean to see who can catch the best wave. And then more running around or tossing things. I don’t know the specifics; I abstain from all of that athletic activity in favor of other worthwhile endeavors like napping.

Unfortunately, with all of the unfriendly weather that frequented the Jersey shore last week, the possibilities for beach athletics were few and far between. What is a pack of competition-driven relatives to do?

Set up a tournament of Wii bowling, of course!

JG’s uncle received the game system for Father’s Day and brought it along for everyone to try. It was the perfect venue for exerting indoor restlessness and spectator heckling. I took one for the team (ahem) and bowed out of the tournament so that there would be sixteen participants – “the perfect number!” JG crowed – but I volunteered to draw up tidy brackets and keep score throughout the proceedings. We randomly seeded the bowlers and set up a double-elimination system with brackets for winners and losers. In an effort to keep the smack-talking to a minimum, I dubbed the latter the “elimination bracket.”

Play began on Independence Day with the following highlights:

• Mimi bowled for the first time and was ridiculously good. She said, “This isn’t so hard! Like that beer pong you all talk about.”
• I got to make a personal avatar (a Mii) and I turned out so cute! Even though I didn’t bowl in the tournament, I got to mill around in the background and that was thrill enough for me.
• One of the aunts bowled seven strikes in a row, resulting in the nickname, “Seven-Pack.” She earned the tournament’s highest score of 259.

With the onset of good weather on the last beach day, the tournament was abandoned with two rounds to play. I guess we’ll never know who would have been the 2007 Wii Bowling Champion, which is a shame because no one gets to brag. Ah, well. There’s always speculation, I guess, as with any sports commentary worth its salt.

Where else can you have two glazed, pretzel-shaped donuts for breakfast and chase it with a piece of Special Dark? Where else is a traditional Independence Day meal completely Mexican? Where else will Mimi place a Fuzzy Navel into your empty hand because, well, doesn’t everyone like a pre-dinner drink? Where else do card games and charades cause cousins to shout late into the night? Ah, the shore.

Unfortunately, because the majority of our beach time was plagued by gray clouds and whipping winds, the time was not quite as idyllic as other vacations in JG’s memory have been. Sitting on the beach is not so pleasant when you’re wearing sweats and a hoodie while you huddle under your makeshift-blanket-but-actual-beach-towel, all the while being stung by pellets of sand from all directions. At least yesterday was warm and beautiful, so we got one good day in and I am tan enough to make a difference, but not so much that I look like a coconut. Regardless, I managed to eat more than my share of seafood and take a whole mess of pictures, including an inordinate amount depicting the lifeguard boat. I just couldn’t stop myself.

Even after just four days away, the old homestead is a sight for sore eyes. I still have to wade through my pictures for prints and process my journal scribblings, but for now, our big couch is calling my name. It’s good to be back.