Sep
16
September 16, 2007
JB’s parents were planning to stop by our house on the return drive from their trip to Banff, and when I heard they were set to arrive on Monday I thought, sweet, that’s when the cleaning people come. No pre-visitor spit-shining necessary! (Note to any potential visitors: no actual spit typically involved. Well, not my spit anyway.)
Then the visit was rescheduled for Saturday, and I was all, fooey, now I have to 409 the guest bathroom with my own delicate petal-soft fingers. L’ennui est moi! And then on Friday afternoon while contractors swarmed our house like bees and every surface of my house had an inch-thick layer of sawdust and I was unshowered and unkempt and our evening plans contained nothing more taxing than perhaps a brisk lie-down on the couch in front of Season 1 Disc 1 of Dexter, JB informed me that his parents were in fact going to be arriving in, uh, about an hour and a half.
Now, I’m not totally against spontaneity as a general rule, but in certain situations I find it frustrating when there are DEVIATIONS FROM THE PLAN. When you have ninety minutes to make both your house and self marginally presentable, for instance.
Of course, once the flurry of preparation was over and everyone had arrived and there was a nearly disgusting amount of grandparent-grandchild bonding going on, it was all good, especially since their presence allowed JB and I to escape to not one but two movies (3:10 to Yuma and Shoot ‘Em Up, both of which were highly satisfying [in entirely different ways] and featured men with oh-so-lickable cheekbones), and even a sushi dinner (don’t even look at me like that, I had the cooked variety. And just a single serving of blowfish).
It’s a little chaotic having houseguests while the kitchen is off limits, in part because we’re limited to picnic-ware until I once again have a sink I can wash things in. I delivered my Destroy the Earth speech about how no, we aren’t saving the plastic utensils and re-washing them (specifically, *I* am not washing them, anyone else is more than welcome to do so), we are throwing them right the hell away, but JB’s parents are chronic savers (just try and throw out any leftovers that could technically be termed as “edible” around these guys, didn’t you know that someone could totally eat that half-bite of potato salad later? Except no one ever does, of course, and THAT is how you end up with raccoons in the fridge) and I kept finding these cups half-full of water with dirty forks and spoons stuck in them, multiple little pre-soak stations for the washing up that I had no intention of doing.
Also, I say this with affection, but neither of JB’s parents can eat an entire banana. Half is their preferred serving size, and so after breakfast there is always half a banana lying there like a sex crime victim, its peel barely covering the sadly exposed flesh within. And the next thing you know, you’re batting wildly at the air in front of you, because motherfucking fruit flies.
They left this morning and while the house feels a little more manageable now, there’s also a palpable emptiness in their wake. Riley has been a massive pain in the ass since their departure, and it makes me remember being a child myself and how my grandparents were magical, wondrous creatures whose visits were even better than Christmas. Grandparents are patient, they want to play all of the time, and they always think their grandchildren are perfect. No wonder he’s pissed off, now he’s stuck with his boring old parents, who in turn are feeling like those child-free evenings were very fine indeed, and in some cases if we are to be completely honest over here, a movie and a box of Milk Duds completely trumps parenting a toddler.
So that’s my news. Tell me, what did you do this weekend?
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Ummm, much sitting… A season and a half of Malcolm in the Middle… Eating stuff I’m not allowed… Neglecting workout routine, which was first inspired by no other than you… Lots of internet…
And a teeny tiny wee bit of work.
That’s because my husband is away.
None. None other.
There is a local festival caled Johny Appleseed festival here last weekend, so we went and ate the good festival food but missed out on dessert because Ian was tired. We relaxed the rest of the day, ending by watch last season of Stargate SG1 (We’re a bit behind on tv watching). Yesterday was church, lunch, family time, laundry and, after Ian’s bedtime, we caught up on the last season of Heroes just in time to fall behind again. Ah, well. DVR is very nice and we’ll catch up eventually. *grin*
I just got Season One of Dexter, so I know what I am doing next weekend. This past weekend, we went to one kiddie party, and I went to one adult catered birthday brunch featuring mimosas. Was I sad when the invitation said “no kids.” Um, no. My first thought was–I will actually get to eat and talk to people! Hub was more than cool with staying home with the munchkins since this was a for a former co-worker of mine.
We moved into our new house this weekend! Or, rather, we moved 1/3 of the way in… the rest of the boxes are being moved later today, and the furniture is being moved on Saturday. Aiieee. But we have the kitchen, and Internet, so who needs anything else?
I’m so damn happy to no longer be living in an apartment, jesus.
I actually am one of those food savers. But I eat the shit later. And in fact get sick from spoiled food quite often. My friends and family no longer trust me to smell things to see if they are good to eat. My answer is yes. (chunky milk is like yogurt right?)
As for my weekend, you don’t want to know. But if I stop commenting on your blog for a while (ie:several years) it’s because I’m in prison or the army. Hopefully the army.
I LOVE Dexter, when does it start again…do you know? I guess I could look it up on Showtime.
Linda, please TELL me, where are your preggy pictures? Aren’t you doing it this time like you did with Riley? That is the first thing I saw and loved about you then, how you documented something so amazing. Have I missed them?
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