[Dating Papers]

The big party was today and I’m not sure what I was worried about. I had no responsibilities and I was able to mingle and play with the kids. B1 did twist my arm to get me to make a toast and I said something…not sure what…about how great it was to have everyone there, the friends, the family. How you learn things from a blended family. The example I gave is when she had a surprise party for my dad on his 60th birthday. She arranged for B1 and me to show up in Berkeley at Dad’s small birthday dinner. We flew out from the East Coast and met at the airport. We spent the afternoon together and then arrived at the restaurant. Dad was so overwhelmed, he couldn’t speak. He cried. I said, “I never would have thought of it, but it was a wonderful thing that Susan did for Dad.” I also said that there was no question about my being at the party. That’s true. I take my family obligations seriously. I have four more wedding to attend in Israel. I haven’t been there so much for my stepsisters though. Yet Jessica called me “Auntie Jamy” to her son. I don’t know. Even after all these years…almost 25…I’m still ambivalent about my step-family. This was certainly excusable in the early days, but now? Well, now, we are all pretty comfortable with each other, but I have no regular contact with my stepsisters. I was invited to both of their weddings but attended neither. I did at least get Jessica a present.

I also faced a present dilemma. Normally, seeing B1’s kids at this time of year, I would bring them presents. But then I thought, I really should bring presents for all kids who could be considered my nieces and nephews, which in case there are three more kids I need to get presents for. My solution? No one got presents. I’m the aunt who doesn’t give presents, rather than the aunt who plays favorites.

I don’t know. When you are part of a “blended family” what happens to the former family? Dad has been married to Susan longer than he was married to my mother by ten years. Yet, in my mind, my family means me, Mom, and Dad. And B1 and B2. Someone said to me on this trip, “I don’t think of you and B1 as half-siblings.” I was glad to hear that, but we are. To me, he’s my brother, the end, but because we don’t share two parents, it means the three of us didn’t grow up together. When I was younger, I longed to have my brothers with me. I felt their absence keenly.

It’s different with my step-sisters because I didn’t meet them until I was 12 and we never lived together. They are both older and the eldest had already left home for college when I came on the scene. As step-sisters go, you couldn’t ask for better, but I didn’t want any part of them for years. Ah well, what can you do?

Was the party a farce? To me, such big family events mean less without my mother. But it was important to Dad that I be there, so I was there. I’m not always there for the big family events that focus on my step-mother, though. Should I be? Is it time to be more loving towards her? I don’t know if I can do it, but I’ll at least try to be more…friendly. That’s the least I can do. (Not to give the impression I’m not friendly–I am–but I could do better.)

Would I have liked it if Owen were there? Yes, though it would have added other complications. And, if it was overwhelming for me, I can only imagine how a stranger would feel…yet, it would be great to have someone on my side, unequivocally. I think it would make it easier. I wonder if people have given up on me, assuming my single status is permanent. Oh well, maybe it is. I’ll take acceptance over harassment any day!

Happy New Year everyone! Next year will be even better, I’m sure.

Grateful for: a great big complicated family.

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At family gatherings, I used to be the youngest. I am the baby of my generation. My father is the youngest of his siblings and I’m the product of his second marriage, making me younger than my nearest cousin by more than ten years. By the time I was 11 or 12, though, I wasn’t the youngest anymore because my cousins started having children. The oldest of these (my first cousins once removed) met my grandfather, their great-grandfather, when they were babies. I was privileged to witness several of these meetings and I have a very fond memories of my grandpa playing with his adorable great-grand-babies. And it’s my privilege to be able to tell some of my cousins about these meetings. They are now graduated from college and the oldest is 25! Full grown adults who I’ve know since babyhood.

When these kids started showing up at family gatherings, I stopped trying to get my older cousins’ attention and started playing with them. I always have a better time with the kids. They don’t expect so much and are usually delighted if you simply witness their play, even if you don’t have any good games to contribute.

At this gathering, I seem to have made a new best friend: my 2.5 year old nephew, Silas. We met B1 and family on the way here for lunch. Somehow, I came up with a game Silas liked, which involved him running at me and getting tickled upon arrival. He is a very cute boy, and while I love my nieces, they don’t seem that interested in me. Maybe they will get interested again, but, for now, Silas has taken a fancy to me and I’m loving every minute. There are tons of other under-five kids here and we do occasionally play with them too, but Silas likes to make sure that I’m nearby.

It’s not that I don’t want to talk to my cousins, my stepsisters, my dad, a variety of family friends…but Silas is so much cuter than any of them.

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What has today been like? I got up at 6:30am after falling asleep around 10pm. I woke at 2:30, went back to sleep, then woke again at 5:30. Even at 6 it was still dark outside. And if it were light, I would have been up earlier. My “place” does not have a proper door, but a wall of glass with a sliding door as the main entrance. Privacy is granted by wooden venetian blinds. The ceiling slopes, though, so the upper part of the wall of windows is uncovered. In addition, there is a skylight directly over the bed. (Un)fortunately, it’s winter, so no early morning light to wake me. Rather, I have my east coast alarm clock to get me up.

When I woke, I did my little calisthenics routine and my shoulder exercises. I threw in a few back stretches while I was at it. The plan was then to go for a short run around the grounds. Instead, I bumped into Dad. He was driving to the beach with the dog and my step-aunt and asked if I wanted to go. I agreed and off we went. I didn’t run much, but I chased the dog around a little and the exercise was decent.

The lunch was another large group affair, similar to what we did last night. After lunch, I “rested.” By which I mean I watched tv. I heard Silas, my two nieces, and B1 and SIL1 heading out to play some basketball. I joined them but Silas quickly monopolized my attention. We played “catch” with a tennis ball. Then he asked me to throw the ball as high as I could way up in the air. I obliged several times.

Soon enough, it was time for another meal. Most of my first cousins and their families went off-site for dinner, leaving Susan’s family and the family friends. Weird, I know, for them to come all this way and then excuse themselves from the group event. Gotta love family.

Best worst line of the night came from a man who is the half-brother of my stepmother’s ex-husband (got that?): “You still living up north?” He meant Seattle. I said, “No, I live in DC now.” The thing is, I haven’t lived in Seattle for nearly 15 years. Damn.

Best line of the night came from Silas, “Will you put me to bed?” I was willing, but the parents indicated no. Still, he asked early and often. Adorable.

Tomorrow’s the big party, I can hardly wait! And, for the record, not a single person has asked me if I’m seeing someone. Yes, that’s good, but kind of annoying when, for once, I could answer “yes.” I’m not complaining about that, though.

Not complaining, not complaining, not complaining….

Grateful for: my excellent attitude (at least I’m working on it).

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Amazing. No cell reception, but wi-fi. Guess that means that certain boyfriends ought not to expect phone calls from me.

Let me tell you a bit about the ridiculousness that brings me to Inverness, CA. I’m here for a party for my dad and stepmother, Susan. It’s for their birthdays–but hers is in November and Dad’s is in February. So, we are having a birthday party on no one’s birthday near a beach that’s too cold for swimming. And the party is on New Year’s Eve at NOON. Does this strike anyone else as absurd?

They decided this party was a great idea and that my stepsisters, B1 and I would throw it for them. Huh?

Most of my cousins are coming up to spend a couple of days, along with my aunt and one of Susan’s sisters. My brother, B1, is here with his family. We’re staying in a modest motel complex and providing most of the food. Also, technically, the kids are throwing the party, so I get to pay for my own room (over $500 for three nights). Dad is going to pay for part of my plane ticket. He suggested half since I’m going to Seattle after this. You know, I think he should pay it all! I never would have come now if it weren’t for this party. Or maybe he should pay none. I don’t know. I’m so annoyed right now, I can’t think straight.

I’ve spent most of the day loading a van with tons of food, wine and luggage. Running around town picking up more food and beverages. Carrying heavy cases of wine and beer. Cleaning up the mess Dad made from improper van loading. And getting about zero thanks for all of it. What fun.

Generally, this side of the family brings out the grumpy in me. I was sanguine on my journey here (despite a remarkably turbulent flight), but a couple of hours ago, I hit my limit. Perhaps venting here will help, but it would sure be nice if someone would say thanks.

(I will have pics eventually, but the one thing I forgot is the cable that connects my camera to the computer. Oh well.)

(An Owen update: on Thursday, at the airport, I got a text message from him, “Have a safe flight.” Aww.)


Grateful for: patience.

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The shoe dilemma is always part of my trip preparations.

When I went to Israel for two weeks, I only brought two pairs of shoes. A triumph, especially considering that I had a wedding to attend and a dress to wear.

However, my boyfriend just went away for ten days and brought only a beat up pair of sneakers. I could manage with one pair for a weekend. Maybe.

This trip will be a two pair minimum. The question is, should I bring a third pair? The answer is yes if I bring a skirt or a dress. No if I don’t. I can probably make do without a skirt or a dress, but given that I’m going on an 11-day trip, it would be nice to have the option to dress up once. And, while I could, theoretically, borrow a skirt from Mom, I can’t borrow her shoes. Why? I had the same size feet as my mother for less than a year–and that was when I was in the fourth grade.

I’m definitely bringing a pair of running shoes. I’ve been doing some light exercising over the last week and a bunch of PT exercises for my shoulder (the right one was sore from rowing). I’ll keep that up and add in a few runs as well. I’ll be ready for some more intensive gym work when I return.

First pair: running shoes.

But what is my second pair? While it’s verboten to wear running shoes around town, I’ll break that rule on my trip. I run so little, I’m not worried about ruining them. The second pair, though, needs to be water resistant. It’s supposed to rain the whole time I’m in Seattle. (It’s Seattle in January. It’s going to rain.) The first part of the trip is on the coast of California, an hour or so north of San Francisco. The town where I’m staying is on a bay, near a beach, so there may be walks on wet sand. It may or may not rain. The ugly red shoes, which are water resistant, but open on top, might be appropriate. Can I really live with sneakers and red shoes for over a week? Hell, I’m on vacation, why not?

Second pair: ugly red shoes.

The more I think about it, the less likely I think it is that I’ll want to dress up. It won’t be necessary in Seattle. The Cali trip does include a party on New Year’s Eve. At NOON. It does not require me to dress up. Maybe I can bring a nice top.

That settles it: no third pair.

I’m sure my male readers will be astonished at the amount of thought going into shoes. I’m sure my female readers will be impressed that I’m only bring two pairs. You feel me, sisters, I know you do.

Last notes, as you can tell, I’m about to venture out west. I have no idea if there will be internet access in the wilds of Northern California, so you may not hear from me until I get to Seattle on January 2nd. And, what with settling in and all, it may be even longer than that. I should have some good family stuff to share, though, so I will post if I have a chance. Also, I’m missing the second blog anniversary, which is tomorrow (Dec. 29th). I don’t have anything prepared, but if you have requests, questions, thoughts, please share.

And very last, here is the Owen update: he called me last night. This should not seem remarkable, but it does. We didn’t talk long as he was mostly telling me he couldn’t come over because of work, but I still appreciated the effort. I’m all about the bright side.

If I don’t talk to you before it happens: Happy New Year!

Grateful for: packing light.

Drop me a line.

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Last night, I used the Flexcar to fetch Owen at the airport. I knew his flight was delayed but I still arrived early and had to circle around several times and park illegally while I waited for his call letting me know when he landed. (I would have used the ‘cell-phone waiting area’ but it was all full and parking at National is just silly.)

When he called, I said, “I’m just driving around aimlessly in the vicinity of the airport.”

He said, “Oh no! I can just hop on the metro if that’s easier.”

“No! I’m picking you up. Just wait for me on the curb and I’ll come and grab you up.” He was standing outside when I drove by so I was saved one more trip on the airport circuit.

He’d asked me to think about where to go to dinner since he would be tired (thus not up to choosing) and very hungry (no food on his 1.5 hour flight, plus delays). I ended up choosing an Irish Pub since that would normally be his preference. I figure, whoever is coming home gets final say–even if they don’t actually say.

I was a bit hesitant about our meeting. I didn’t know what to expect. When Owen got in the car, he didn’t kiss me; he leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. We chatted easily enough on the ride to the restaurant, though. When we got out of the car, he did kiss me and hugged me and seemed happy to see me. He even reached for my hand. I should not have been surprised, since I am the one with the problem, not him.

We sat down and each ordered a beer. I said, “Don’t tell the Flexcar people.” Actually, I didn’t feel it at all. I also said, “You don’t need to brace yourself for a serious conversation, I’m not planning on bringing anything up.”

“Oh, ok.”

“The last thing I want is to ever have that conversation again.”

He laughed. He also told me that he hadn’t gotten me a present yet. I said, “Really? Even with all that shopping you did?”

“I didn’t have time to shop for you. I couldn’t shop for you where I was shopping for my family.”

I said, “I don’t get it. Why not? Wait–you mean you know what you’re getting me?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Well, then I’ll hold on to your last present and we can exchange gifts when I get back.”

“That sounds good.”

“But, no matter how long you wait to give it to me, it doesn’t count as a birthday present!” I laughed.

He said, “When is your birthday?”

“At the end of February.” I saw a distressed look cross his face. “Don’t worry, I don’t care that much about Valentine’s Day.”

“Oh, but I do. I like to do something special.”

“Really? Well, it’s fine with me if you want to do something, but I don’t expect it.”

“You know, last year, I started dating this girl at the end of January…”

“Oh yeah, I’ve been there.” It’s always double pressure for the guys I date because my birthday is just two weeks after V-Day. “What did you do?”

“I made too big a deal about it and I scared her off.” I laughed and so did he. And he told me the story in a little more detail.

Later on he said, “Did you get the car for overnight?”

“Yes.” I had, just in case. I didn’t know if I’d want to spend the night with him–or if he’d want me to–but I left myself the option by reserving the car through the morning.

We got back to his place around 9pm. He did a little unpacking while I watched tv. We went to bed around 10pm, but stayed up late (for him) talking. Neither of us slept that well, probably because we haven’t shared a bed for a while.

In the morning, I offered him a ride to the metro and he accepted. When I dropped him off he said, “Talk to you tonight.”

After all my doubts of yesterday, I’m not sure what to think. We are always good when we’re together and that’s still, reassuringly, true. We had a very good time. I could tell that he missed me. I would have missed him more if I hadn’t been so busy feeling bad about being ignored. He told me more about his trip and, while he had a fair amount of down time, he was also on the move quite a bit, which made it harder to stay in touch. But we didn’t get into that since I’d decided not to open the topic. It is something we’ll talk about again, I’m sure, despite my avowals otherwise. Or, maybe we won’t. I guess that’s up to me.

I feel ok about leaving. I don’t particularly expect to hear from him while I’m gone, but I feel comfortable getting in touch with him if I feel like it. I probably won’t have tons of chances for that either considering the 100% family circumstances of the first part of the trip in Cali and the one-room loft-style apartment circumstance of the second part of the trip in Seattle.

When I come back, I’ll let things play out…not expect too much and set the independence plan in action. Of course, I’ll let him know first that I have such a plan, but I didn’t feel the need to discuss that the one time we see each other in three weeks.

The ups and downs of this relationship seem a little crazy but I feel better knowing that there is something good here. It’s still worth seeing if there’s a way to make it work.

Grateful for: another chance.

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I want to write about Owen but I’m extremely wary of putting myself out there. I don’t need another slap down from the commenters. While the ad hominem attacks are always the vast minority of comments, they hurt disproportionately. I can’t take it when I’m already hurting.

You all know what is going on. It’s the same old thing. I don’t hear from Owen. I worry. I vow not to contact him, but I do it anyway. He is surprised that I’m upset. I try to explain myself without blaming and somewhat succeed. We come to a truce. The current truce has me picking him up at the airport tonight. The good news is I get to see him before I head out of town on Thursday. The bad news is, I’m not sure I want to see him.

Of course, I want to see him but I don’t want to fight. I don’t want to have the same conversation we’ve already had too many times. I’ve already asked him for what I want (and need) and he has consistently tried and failed to give it to me. He is not making our relationship a priority. Maybe he doesn’t like me enough. Maybe he’s too overwhelmed with work. I don’t know and it doesn’t matter. When I actively take him by the hand and guide him where I need him to go, it works. But there comes a point where you’ve stated over and over what you need and how he can give it to you and when he STILL doesn’t figure it out, you have to stop.

I don’t want to talk any more. All I can say is, this isn’t working for me and something has to change. If he can’t change, then I will. I’ll change to an Owen-free existence. Contemplating this is unbearably sad but I don’t know what else to do. He needs to meet me halfway and if he can’t do it, then I can’t continue. I’ve flexed, I’ve stretched, I’ve been there for him. And where is he? Except for when we’re physically in the same place, he’s a phantom. I can’t live for the weekends. The weekends are only enough if we have an ongoing connection.

Or, or, I could take a thousand steps back, live my life and let him come to me. I’m going to try that, but odds are I won’t pull it off. It’s just not my style.

No matter what, I’m done asking him for anything. I won’t make “demands.” I just can’t. My pride will only let me go so far.

What a mess.

Grateful for: not too much pride.

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Best Christmas movie ever? Carrie. Can you believe that I’ve never seen it before? It was on the other night and I taped it. I watched it this morning.

What a great flick! It’s not actually good–the acting is flat, a little forced. The cast is surprisingly all-star (mostly b-list, but recognizable faces). Hell, John Travolta is in it! And the plot, building towards the flaming gym at the prom–brilliant. love that whole puberty=out-of-control metaphor. It’s total wish fulfillment for any kid that was ever teased or picked on in school (count me in!). I also understand why everyone always asked me if I missed going to the prom (I did). It was clearly a very big deal in the “old” days. And what’s up with this business of only being able to go if you had a date? That’s just evil. I also love that everyone playing a teenager is at least 21 years old. It’s the best teen horror movie ever. Too bad there’s not more sex–but the lack of sex and the fear of sex is just as good.

And the ending! I’m not saying who dies (almost everyone), but one death in particular stands out. Bravo for the death scene and manner of death.

If you haven’t seen this movie, you must. You really must. What a hoot.

Merry Christmas!

Grateful for: good bad movies.

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Original Article syndicated via RSS from Grateful Dating

Tonight, I made latkes for TR’s family. Kind of funny, actually, to be invited over to cook…while I saw the humor in the situation, I thoroughly enjoyed myself. I love TR’s kids and they seem to like me too. TR’s father-in-law and aunt-in-law were visiting and very appreciative latke-eaters. Latkes are easy to make but require perseverance. The “batter” is mostly grated potatoes and once the potatoes are “opened” they won’t last. So, however many you grate, that’s how many you cook. You can save and freeze the extra latkes. The taste good reheated, but they loose their crispness. Years ago, when I was in grad school, I had a latke party. I made a tremendous number of latkes and I decided to bring the extras to school on Monday. I put them out in our little common kitchen and they were gone in 15 minutes flat. So, reheating won’t stop anyone, or at least hungry grad students, from eating them.

My day was good. I slept late. When I got up, I had some cereal and watched some of the Sunday tv shows. I did some exercise and then walked to Eastern Market. I was surprised to find everything open. I had some coffee and bought a couple of things for Mom (birthday presents). After shopping, I stopped in a bar and ate lunch while watching the first half of the football game. I walked home at halftime and watched the second half at home. Then, I headed over to TR’s and got cooking.

When I got home, around 8 PM, I was beat. A long, lovely day of doing nothing.

Yesterday, I spent the morning at home doing laundry and not much else. I left in the early afternoon to catch a movie at the AFI. Afterwards, I went to Nancy’s. I played with her kids and helped put them to bed. After they fell asleep, we watched a bad movie and Nancy put together a toy. I got home after 11pm and stayed up watching boring tv.

Tomorrow, movies for sure! Happy, merry everyone.

Grateful for: latkes.

Drop me a line.

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Last night, I had an assignation with a bald, Chinese man (hey, that’s how he described himself). On a dark DC street, I handed over a stack of documents and he bowed and thanked me. It was Pele who pointed out the spy-like quality of the meeting. Oh, if only it were actually interesting.

Over the last week, I’ve received a few dozen final exams. No, I’m not teaching a class–my friend, Spesh, is. He lives in Israel and is teaching an online class, but the students have to take the final exam in person, with a proctor. Then, they mail the exam to UMD. Then, instead of sending the finals to Spesh, in Israel, they send them to me, in DC. I am Spesh’s US address, but this is ridiculous. In an effort to get the exams to Spesh in a reasonable amount of time, I made the plan to meet a UMD professor (?) in front of a liquor store near the Van Ness metro and give him the exams. (Yes, I could have mailed them to Israel, but it would have cost a fortune.)

Mission accomplished!

After the hand off, Pele and I met CK for dinner. We went to 2 Amys, which I’ve wanted to try forever. I liked the food, though it was noisy (too many hard surfaces) and the place was packed. The pizza didn’t meet CK’s Boston standards, but Pele was in my camp–pro pizza, with the exception of the half-burnt crust on one pie. Still, a big yum. A couple of leftover slices made for a very tasty dinner tonight.

Today, work was pretty much a bust. I bugged out a little early with Nancy to see a movie. But, instead of that, we shopped. First, Staples, to get a date book for me for next year. I left it to the last minute and couldn’t find exactly what I wanted, but it’ll do. Then, Target, for lots of presents for Nancy’s kids and a few odds and ends for me. Last, the grocery store for the potatoes I need for Sunday. The traffic was terrible, but it gave us lots of time to talk in the car–always a good thing.

My cold seems to be receding, which is a relief. I wasn’t sure how long it was going to take me to feel better.

I’m also in a much better mood because I heard from Owen. It’s not like he’s busy working or anything so I didn’t know what to make of his silence.

Last night, after a glass and a half of wine, I called him and left a message. I didn’t hear from him until this morning when I got a rather long (for him) email. The email put my mind at ease. He explained why I hadn’t heard from him. It lifted my mood. High enough, I think, to get me sufficiently cheerfully through the rest of the weekend.

Grateful for: improved spirits.

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What happens when you go around feeling pre-lonely and sorry for yourself? Lots and lots of plans. I’m in a much better mood today, despite ongoing, never ending vague dizziness. Really, this whole head full of cotton feeling is not conducive to getting any work done.

But, the good news: probable matinee with Nancy when the let us off work early on Friday. Cool movie to see at AFI on Saturday afternoon to be followed by hanging out at Nancy’s on Saturday evening. Sunday, Christmas Eve, I’ll go over to TR’s at his wife’s invitation to make latkes. Fun! And, on the day itself, I hope to spend a little time hanging out with Kristin. If not, I’ll be ok on my own.

Plus, tonight, I have a book group (a new book group) dinner. Nope, haven’t read the book. Tomorrow, blog meetup! Thursday, dinner and salsa dancing with CK! So, sick or not, I’m going out and having fun, dammit.

And, I got an email from Owen. Short and sweet, but it was good to hear from him. My strategy is to keep busy while he’s gone and fill my head and time with other things. I’m not sitting around moping about an absent boyfriend. You know what they say…while the cat’s away…I will have a darn good time.

PS I told you I was terrible at this taking a break thing.

Grateful for: plans.

Drop me a line.

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