I KNOW I KNOW I KNOW
I suck in the worst way. Every day on my winter vacation* I would think to myself– self, you should write a blog post today. It will be virtually painless. You might even enjoy it. And then after you write that blog post, you could go to the gym for a little yoga. Or some pilates. And then spend quality time with your family. And shower. And eat something other than precooked bacon straight out of the package. And change out of your sweatpants.
But this is what actually happened for the entire 10 days I was not at work: eating, drinking, napping, napping, eating, drinking, shopping, eating, drinking. Which was then followed by family bonding yelling-style. Because my brothers and I regress the second we enter our mother’s household and start squabbling like babies. Even though we’re fucking adults. And then we all feel bad that we yelled at each other and have a cocktail. And kiss and make up. For about 8 hours until we’re screaming at each other again.
We had the usual bunch on Christmas Eve– you know, 58 adults and 10 kids under the age of 6. We sang the Christmas carols, we ate the wild rice, we got yelled at for being the naughty cousins who were talking during the singing. If you’d like to know what that type of Christmas is like in comparison to your sane, quiet, people in the single digit Christmas– just imagine sheer chaos + 10 munchkins running around on a holiday sugar high + 25 pounds of wrapping paper and everyone talking at top volume. You get the idea.
Later that night after the house had been cleaned and everyone went home, my 95 year old grandfather decided he had had enough. His hearing aids had been off for hours. His house was finally righted. It was time for him to go to sleep. As he was getting up from his chair, my mother said, “Dad! Don’t turn off the TV. The kids will probably stay up for a bit.”
Papa said, “NOPE. We’re going to bed!” And then he shut off the TV. At 10PM.
THE CUTEST DOG ALIVE
My brother Timmy secretly got a dog a couple months ago and I say secretly because my mother 100% believes that anyone under the age of 30 should not own a dog. I am the most responsible person alive and she thinks that even I should not own a dog. Mostly because she is afraid that I’ll one day be like– I’m going to move to the Arctic forever! Here, mom, take my dog. Or– shit, mom, my dog ate a whole corn on the cob (true story, happened to my cousin Mina) and they’re going to have to surgically remove it and I have no money! Can I have 8 billion dollars?
Tim handled the situation quite well though, I must say. He sat my mother down and premised the situation in a way that she was convinced Tim had done something truly terrible like failed out of college or held up a liquor store. When he confess that the big gigantic secret was in fact a 9 month old Jack Russell named Mila (after Mila Kunis), she was so relieved that she allowed herself to fall in love with the little punk. As we all did. I wanted to steal her so bad.
Well, ultimately there is no moral to the story. I got fat over the holidays. Some of my pants don’t fit. Yes, it was worth it. Those 25 bread sticks I ate on Christmas Eve (that is in NO WAY an exaggeration) were delicious in ways that I cannot even begin to explain.
The wine I drank was also delicious. I still have a bruise on my leg from how delicious it was because as it turns out Rachel + too much wine + a dark hallway and a misplaced laundry basket don’t mix well together.
And that is that. Work has been pretty busy this week, but I do solemnly swear to try to suck less in the immediate to near future.
*It was like I was back in high school! 2 weeks off! No homework!