mrs-roboto's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Sweet Freedom Today is the day the they leave. I am waiting for Monkeyface to call and tell me that the plane took off before I celebrate. Remember the last time I counted my chickens before they were hatched? I'm just not going to set my self up for that kind of disappointment again. So I've bitten my tongue to the point of needing stitches (thank god the red wine acted as anesthesia) and there is great exhaustion in my bones. Luckily, my friend Judy and I will visit the spa this Saturday and I will be rejuvenated in time for the holiday party I'm hosting on Sunday. "It will all be okay, deep breaths" is my mantra. Here's some more highlights of "the visit" because if nothing else, it makes for funny reading. On Saturday, we prepared a dinner that's come to be know as Indian Feast. It's a standard in our repertoire. Think curry and yogurt salads and tandoori and a pricey imported basmati rice that compliments the meal quite nicely. "You know what would make this better," asks FIL. "No, what," groans Monkeyface. "Uncle Ben's Rice," answers FIL. "You ever had that?" "Nope," I lie. "I've never heard of it." And here begins a twenty minute lecture on the virtues of a product completely devoid of any nutritional value and taste. Later while sipping a glass of wine (I was almost always sipping a glass of wine over the last seven days) we discussed how there are only three good wines produced in the whole U.S. As you might imagine, the names Ernest and Julio Gallo came up as well as the famous Farm of Boone. I do need to make a justification here, I am really not a snob. I only get uppity when someone acts like an authority on everything. I had a whole week of authoritarianism. Sadly, I don't think FIL even knows that his behavior is over the top. He's fairly oblivious. That's what makes things so hard. On Thursday, Thanksgiving day, my neighbors Marti and Rick were out in their yard barbecuing a turkey. It was a beautiful day in Seattle (no, really it was) and they had their picnic table set up for holiday celebrations. My dining room looks right out on their yard. My FIL was sitting at our table looking out into their yard and I could tell something was irking him. He was shifting in his seat and fidgeting a lot. "You know," he says to me. "That guy is checking his turkey too much. He needs to leave it alone." "Don't worry about it," I told him. "We weren't invited for dinner so we don't need to fret about how their turkey will turn out." "Can you get me a refill on this drink," he asks. "Sure," I say and head to the kitchen but before I even reach the fridge, FIL has the window open and is leaning out shouting instructions at my neighbors!!! "Hey," he calls to Rick. "Stop checking on that so often. Your letting all the hot air out of the barbecue. If you keep the damn thing closed it will cook faster and have a crispier skin. You're going to ruin it that way and you know what would make that better? Do you have a drip pan and some salt? You need a .........." So yes, it's not just me and the M-face, dear FIL knows better than. It's everyone, everywhere. And word just came through! The in-laws got through curbside check-in and were last seen heading for their gate...... Hallelujah!!! I have survived!!! 11:44 a.m. - 2002-12-03 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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