*I* do not understand what her deal is, lady. *I* feel extra pretty in mine. 

I am going to shut my eyes, and pray that when I open them, this thing will be off. 

Today, I almost threw my FagHag badge of honor out the window. I was behind three ‘family’ men in line at Costco, and I will acknowledge upfront that I was operating under the influence of no food, or virtually no food, because there were not many grazing opportunities in the aisles of Costco today & I only had a sliver of grilled chicken breast & a small paper cup of “rice bowl”. Given that it’s been unseasonably warm, no large building structure has figured out that when it is 60 degrees outside, having the heat on high is no longer necessary, no matter what the calendar says. So it was boiling hot, and Gay Man #3 had committed the first atrocity, not putting the divider bar on the belt. It would be the first of many he and his trio would commit.

GM #1 apparently was the only cardholder of the bunch. So that meant three transactions with the card being handed back and forth as Edmonika tried to keep everything straight. PUN INTENDED. (Also, I am not kidding, that was her name, on my receipt. I wondered as I left, did her parents combine their names? Is it a family name? What the hell?) At this point, I am pissed that I picked this line. And starting to get the shakes, while getting a little sweaty, which makes me feel sub-pretty, and not just a little pukey. So I want these fruitcakes to hurry it the F up, and I’m giving them all sorts of leeway, because I love my gay men, and 90% of the time the connection is instant. Not so today! They are buying TONS of wine, which means overriding the age/date of birth crap every time. And they have three huge jugs of vegetable oil. Wine & vegetable oil. Huh. Midnight tomorrow night was going to be VERY interesting, wherever this trio was. I was envisioning things I should never, ever imagine. Oh! And a bottle of Baileys, that never made it out of the cart. Whups! That’s GM #1’s bottle of Baileys, we’ll need to do a fourth transaction real quick like. GM #3 could not figure out how to work the card swiper. Dude. It’s a flick of the wrist, and please, do not, do NOT make me have to show you how. You are standing between me and a dollar-fifty hot dog plus drink, I am sweaty, I have low blood sugar, and I feel dangerously close to morphing into the elderly lady who works at Hobby Lobby when she gets close to lunch break and starts barking about her diabetes and low blood sugar and how she HAS GOT TO EAT RIGHT NOW. So in a post-Christmas fashion, I dedicate a little song to you, for driving me insane for 15 minutes at a low blood sugar moment in my life.

Ye three queens, disoriented are.

Buying wine, you’ll haul to your car.

Yield your cash card, you should be barred,

My afternoon you’ll mar.

O men who blunder, shoes so light,

Can’t get a transaction right,

Still not speeding, still not breeding,

You’re still the ones in whom I delight.

Man, I’m gonna sink into a depression if something upbeat & positive doesn’t happen SOON! I can barely watch the footage of the aftermath of the tsunami, I keep checking the lists of Americans who died, because I’m terrified I’ll see my co-worker Angela, who went home to Malaysia at the beginning of December, and now Jerry Orbach, my beloved Lenny from Law & Order has just died. Is this what getting older is all about? Surviving?

My father & his family left a day early, because he was in excruciating pain from his shoulder & he just wanted to get home (and to his chiropracter). I understand it, but it’s disappointing. The time we had together was way too short, and I also realized partway through, my expectations for the time we’d spend together were far too grandiose. Not that I thought we’d be all Algonquin Round Table and sit around and talk non-stop, but I also didn’t get time alone with him, really. It’s like I expected the kinds of talks we have on the phone – but you can’t get that because there’s four other people sitting there & it’s impolite to exclude them. And they’re nice people, I just don’t know them that well, two of them are teenagers, given to fits of apathy & silence.

James is gone through Sunday, he was barely here & we’ve had very little time together one-on-one with the holidays & family & his hunting – I miss him, even more today. Especially having awoken from a dream this morning in which he was having a torrid affair & using his duck hunting as a “cover”. Putting that in print makes me laugh, but it’s funny how our dreams take tiny grains of an idea, or insecurity, or even something you laughingly referenced, and blow them up into a full-scale movie production that leaves you sweaty & slightly dizzy when you stagger out of the theater of the mind.

So now is the point where I should really start to relax, right? I might just give myself the luxury of a nap, and then I’ll decide if I’m going furniture shopping. I’ve got to clean up the house & do some grocery shopping – but right now, I just want there to be a little peace in the world. People to not die, people to be safe, happy, and in good health. I have a dog who loves to hug me, so that’s a blessing I’ll count. I have a husband who loves me & is off doing what he loves. I have a father who loves me & stays in my life – even from afar. I am going to trust that everything else will just be OK, & hope the nap shakes off some of my discombobulation!

So on learning to be more flexible, and to do more with family, I awoke at 5:15 a.m. yesterday & prepared for my annual post-holiday shopping spree, with Grandma Dorothy in tow this year. The poor thing had gotten up at 2:30 a.m. to drive up with Grandpa for the hunting trip with James, and she was not only tired, but cold. So I give her a four-star merit badge for Shopping Trooper, because we shopped until nearly noon. Interestingly enough, the woman is also a deer magnet. On the drive up, a deer passed behind them and bonked the back of their sedan (no damage to either moving object), and as we were heading down State Line Road at 6 a.m., two deer crossed in front of us. We marveled at Deer in the City, only to realize a THIRD deer was running alongside the Civic. GOOD GRIEF! I stopped and let it cross as well, and, laughing, we were off to shop. Shop, shop shop. The deals were not as bountiful as I’d hoped, but I did get re-stocked on wrapping paper, boxes, bows & bags, and got some little gifties that will be good for giving through the year.

The menfolk got back home to potato & ham soup, and sitting next to Dorothy’s luggage (for they were going to stay with us last night, Grandpa going hunting with James again in the morning), Grandpa changed his shoes and gruffed, “OK Dorothy, let’s get going, we gotta get the camera back to Sandy’s, stop by Linda’s and then get home, because I’m meeting them at the boat ramp at 7 a.m. tomorrow down south.”

Dorothy’s face was what you’d see if you looked up “What the FUCK?” in the dictionary. “What?” she said, omitting the part I would have said.

Grandpa repeated himself. I said, “So you’re telling me you’re going back home tonight?”

James said, “Yes! We’re duck hunting tomorrow at ~whatever whatever, I can’t keep these duck hunting places straight ~ and Grandpa’s meeting us in the morning.”

Dorothy looked fit to be tied. She was planning (and had packed for) a couple of nights up in the city, not to mention some gambling, and spending time with all her relatives. Now, nearly 12 hours later, she was headed back for home.

The opening was so perfect. So appropo on the heels of our discussion from the night before, about James’ wish that I would be more flexible with family stuff.

I said, “Dorothy, you just gotta be more *flexible*.”

James looked like I had popped him in the nose. I couldn’t stop laughing. I added, “I would be SO MAD if it were me!” And don’t get me wrong, she WAS mad. I bet that was a looong ride home for Grandpa.

I award her a Red Star of Homicidal Restraint.

When I was growing up, my family was, essentially, my mother & my father. A black lab was my stand-in sibling. There were very few visits with family, we would see my dad’s sister every so often, and I adored her. My mother’s family was always at arm’s length, and most visits were obligatory and had lots of kvetching on the front & back ends.

So I don’t know how to “have family”, I’ve concluded. My husband has a pretty large circle of family, that gathers together for everything, and attendance is expected. Spending time together is mostly desirable, and spending more time together is a “bonus”. Another foreign concept for me.

I’ve been challenged today to be more flexible. To give more of my time to family, because they are, in essence “my family”. And they’re not bad, or awful, or too insane as far as family goes. The most certainly give me lots to laugh at! James invited his grandfather to go hunting with him tomorrow, and the next day, and in doing so, invited his grandmother to spend all day, and possibly the next day, too, with me! And I did not react well, both in front of family (that was more just pursed lips and big eye glances) and then once they left, the Discussion took place. Actually, several Discussions took place. One, I was raised that when you have company, everything has to be perfect, and you set aside your plans and time to devote completely to company. Two, I was not raised with doing things with family, and being an only child, I love having time to myself and react badly when it is taken away. Three, James is going to learn (and had an opportunity later that evening) to INCLUDE me in these discussions, to consult me & my plans, rather than just stating it will happen without regard to what I might want. Because that is the crux of the matter, here. I am planning to see Shelley for her birthday tomorrow, Mike & Gordon will hopefully stop by, and I was not planning on having to take care of anyone else but me. And when you consult the aforementioned Company Rules, my plans go out the window. That is when James said, “But they’re NOT company. It’s *family*.”

And a little bulb went off, that this IS different somehow, and it’s not something I know. So I’m not going to do it right all the time, but it also means it’s an opportunity to learn to do it differently. And his grandmother is NOTHING if she’s not a gamer. The woman will eat any kind of food – she may not like it, but she’ll try it! I’ll look through my library, too, for a good book to lend her – she likes to read, and rejected our Lemony Snickett books as “too depressing”. I don’t need to wait on her, we’ll make chocolate cherry biscotti together, and I can do some of my own “stuff” without feeling guilty. I can try, anyway.

So, when James was talking to his mom on the phone later, and started to invite her along to the dinner out with my father, he caught himself, stopped, and asked me about it – which is really what I need most, to feel some part of the decision. Of course we want her to come along. THANK YOU for asking.

And as I was munching on the snack mix his grandmother left us, I said, “Does she use the standard Chex Mix recipe and add cheetos & nuts?” James replied, “I dunno.” I couldn’t resist. I said, “Oh, never mind. I’ll be spending the next 48 hours with her – I’ll just ask her then.”

We both laughed. It’s important to laugh, and what better place to start? With family.

So many things to be happy about, and to be thankful for.

Last night, it was wonderful to see my friend Shelley sooooo happy. Borderline giddy. She has been with her boyfriend for over a year now, and they’ve had the standard (and unique) highs & lows, the wonderings of whether it will last, the deciding that it WON’T last to steel yourself for the heartbreak that doesn’t quite come, and now that they’ve done some collective ironing, they’ve hit that wonderful, more-secure place and still have that NuLove giddiness about them. The metaphors that swirled through my head last night were akin to “fresh strawberries” or a very ripe peach, that first-bite burst that blows through your senses and taste buds and leaves you wanting more, more, MORE!

I told her once I envied her romantic love stage, where everything is new and exciting and bubbly. I don’t actually envy it, actually – it’s more like looking at old pictures that remind you of a really special trip and make you smile inside for a time you can only remember.

James came home yesterday and I was VERY ready for him to be home. From a practical standpoint (YOU put the dogs in the kennel and do the vacuuming!) to a deep inside ache of missing the man who loves me so completely, he loves me through the times when I can’t love myself. I was very weepy last night, because we hadn’t talked much in the past week, and so I had to talk about Becki dying, and about how I still struggle with my relationship (or lack thereof) with my mother & how this time of year seems to spotlight it and makes it harder to handle, and how much I MISSED HIM. And then we went to Shelley’s Fifth Annual Ornament Exchange, and had a good time until Clancy the Cat’s dander made James turn into a swollen-eyed, blinking allergy machine. So we came home and the bed was full again and both dogs were there and there was balance in the universe.

I like to think that the love we have now, the one that isn’t new and shiny all the time, and has familiar grooves cut into it, with the familiar jokes and the little pieces like knowing how I like my coffee and how he would like me to pick him up a treat at the bakery and all those small little nuances that you don’t even consciously have to THINK about are all there, and they make my heart burst with joy. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

I am feeling a little awkward, posting about olestra & the catastrophic results it had on me. So here’s a quick knitting update to balance things – inside & out. :)

I have started the fronts for the Folly cardigan, and in the endless stockinette stage again. One thing I do for cardigan pieces, as well as sleeves, is to knit both at once, with two separate balls of yarn going. For the first time, yesterday, I actually switched halfway & turned around, resulting in two extra rows on one cardigan piece, and two rows behind on the other. THAT, my friends, is annoying cubed. But quick to fix, and now I’m sure to not set it down before both pieces have been done. I already want to make the Crystal Palace Merino Frappe Kimono that I have the yarn for, and I don’t know why I’m itching to get going on that project, because that is just big squares of endless stockinette! I may need an in-between, highly-gratifying project. I shall pick from Scribble Lace, or perhaps a pair of socks, or perhaps – BOTH!

So, on my day off, I did some shopping at the WM Supercenter, and decided to get a couple bags of chips. I’d tried the Light Doritos from the vending machine, and was impressed. So I grabbed a bag of those, and a bag of Ruffles Light. I have always loved Ruffles Light. Especially compared to Lays, the ridges are just …. better.

Yesterday afternoon, after returning from mammoth shopping, I consumed probably three servings-worth of the Doritos. Back in my Serious Eating days, I could do at least half a bag, if not more. But I was having tomato soup with cheese tortellini later, and I didn’t want to stuff myself.

I had THE WORST issues with The System that evening. I kept thinkin, “Huh! This is weird. I had pizza for breakfast (reheated, as I hate cold pizza, and when I am not working, I do NOT eat traditional food, ever, for breakfast.) Then I had chips, and soup, with some pasta. I wonder what I had yesterday?”

And didn’t think anything more about it. Until I went to put the bag of Ruffles Light away this morning, and I saw the promotional line about “no fat”. Wow! I thought. No fat? That’s pretty cool. So I opened the bag & tried three-four chips. Yes, it was 8 a.m., but I was impressed. They were crunchy, and tasted even a little greasy. HOW could this be? This no fat thing must be wrong, it must be the new “no TRANS fat” thing that will sweep through all package labeling in 2005. Nope. No trans fat, but no fat at all, either. I looked at the ingredients, and BINGO! Olestra. Well, no wonder my stomach was so upset yesterday! I know, don’t eat more than a serving’s worth. But still – I mistakenly thought Olestra was off the market, because of that whole “leakage” issue and they had put all of the graphic side effects in a warning on the products – not a very appetizing sell, by the way. In any event, the mystery was solved, and I will NOT be consuming the Light products with gusto – I don’t eat chips that often anymore, as it is, but I preferred the “light with fat” chips versus the “no fat light with olestra that turns your insides out” chips.

On a completely separate note, but certainly a more uplifting one, the “BIG” surprise at work was cold, hard cash. Not a ton, but not insignificant. Enough to feel cushy and have some fun shopping next week! So that’s nice. If only I didn’t want to desperately crawl under my desk and take a nap right now, I’d be more enthusiastic…..

Or, at least, this one SUV-drivin’, in-a-hurry Beyotch’s day.

In merely 30 seconds! Last time I checked, CostCo parking lots usually do not require, nor is it advisable, driving speeds in excess of 40 mph. Apparently my assumption is INSANE, because why would I ease out in front of said speeding SUV, that was turning a corner half a block away, to suddenly have said SUV almost in my back seat, honking at me?

I threw my hands up in the air because, unlike BeyotchLady in SUV, I did not feel like hitting the gas and barrelling forward in a CostCo parking lot, because I did not have Russian spies chasing me down, nor were bullets flying. Daggers from her eyes, yes, but I have a special deflector on the Honda that I installed. And she was SO PISSED, I could see in my 9-inch movie screen of a rear-view mirror, that she wanted to GET OUT of her SUV but I bet she was intimidated by the license plate frame, “I’d Rather Be Knitting”, and you never know with us knitters, what we’re packin’. I can stuff a ball of yarn down someone’s throat in 20 seconds, and that’s why I’m called “The Yarn Whisperer”. OH but it was her misfortune to have to CONTINUE traveling behind me, and it made me laugh, and laugh, and LAUGH because, SERIOUSLY? are we getting this upset over traveling only 30 mph and you did not want anyone in front of you, despite a full parking lot and it’s three days before Christmas? And then she went around me to the stop light where I could see the little 6-inch mirror reflection of her face as her lips got all pursed up and she was SCOWLING at me and shaking her head, which was a bit confusing because, when all was said and done, she still wouldn’t have made the light, and she didn’t lose any time, per se, due to the fat slow lady on her day off driving her Honda. I made my turn, she floored it through the intersection, and I thought, man, it sucks to have her for a mom/wife/roommate, because seriously, it is a cluster you-know-what out there right now in Shopatorium U.S.A., and there is NO REASON to get bent out of shape or pissed off because it’s like a current – the more you fight against it, the more you stand a chance to drown. And certainly, if I could tell her ONE THING it would be, Merry Christmas. If I could tell her a second thing, it would be, SPEED KILLS.