No Wine for You

Actually, there's plenty of wine for you, if you'd like a white or a red that compliments turkey. We had 10 adults and 6 bottles of wine for 2 days, which I thought would be terribly insufficient. With 4 bottles remaining, it looks like I was wrong. I have strong memories of merry family holidays where the adults got slightly tipsy and stayed up late every night talking and playing games. Well now that my kids are the only ones too young to drink, most of the rest of the crew has gotten too old! The worst part is that everyone can give a litany of pills and conditions that make wine drinking inadvisable, so they have not only gotten old, but they are falling apart, too :(

Still, even without the social lubricant, my highly opinionated and aggressive family managed to enjoy the dinner and the company without cross words: a miracle when all of us are absolute experts (!) about everything (it's them really, I'm very laid back and easy to get along with).

Where's the Balance?

We have my family coming in today for the holiday. This should be a simple, happy thing to look forward to, because I really enjoy all my relatives individually. But because I'm mildly neurotic and they are extremely neurotic, I've got a little tension going. Firstly, I'm low energy because of my 4th cold since Baby Devil was born 3 months ago; the house is even less tidy than usual. This is really saying something, and can't possibly go unnoticed by the Fam. The thing is that we have a slightly strange group dynamic sometimes, where we are all so busy trying to impress each other with our virtues (I keep my house really clean, I work extra hard at my job, I've got more degrees than I have fingers, I have more energy than you and I'm 60 years older), that we forget to just relax and enjoy each other. So I know that even though there may not be much said, at least two people are going to walk into my house and wonder how their virtues failed to come down to me.

The upside is that I have a haircut scheduled for this afternoon, so at least the unspoken criticism hanging in the air won't apply to my grooming, as it did for at least the first 25 years of my life (this may have been justified, as I went through extended periods of very low maintenance and a strange insistence on wearing clothing and shoes until the cloth wore thin and the soles disintegrated).

So why write about it? Because I'm going to take my hostessing duties seriously, and try to keep my guests happy and entertained. I have games (with all the pieces and directions!), I have snacks (sweet and salty, healthy and fatty. Remind me to mention the sweet and salty again*), newspapers, and a little list of current events that might be interesting to discuss without leading to acrimonious arguments. The piece de resistance of course, is Baby Devil, who will smile and spit alternately, thus allowing everyone to be charmed and to indulge in extended conversations about what I am doing to cause all the spitting. The current frontrunner over the phone is that she is probably allergic to breastmilk- convenient theory, given the general familial opposition to breastfeeding... Anyway, I'll even suffer that with a smile, as long as it helps everyone enjoy the holiday. This is a bit of a new venture for me, as most entertainment events in our house involve inviting people over, giving them a bit of food and as much wine as they want, and chatting about whatever occurs. I'm even going to try the major sacrifice of not cracking on my favorite little cousin (who's taller than me, damn her), no matter how easy she makes it. If she talks about going to the tanning salon, I will not laugh (hello, you're black!), if she complains about having no money, but has new tatoos and her fourth hair color since July, I will take a minute to remember how much I love this kid before I wisecrack. Plus, by restraining myself now and not laughing at her right away, I can save up any truly memorable bits to write about later.

So now off to the train station to begin the madness. The order of the day is to enjoy the people I love, without getting caught in the death spiral of mad family competition. No showing off the sharp wit (well, only a little bit), no snark, no secret longing to get back to the dissertation. This is going to be a slightly delicate walk, but I am filled with optimism.

*My grandmother (94) is the Queen of Sweet and Salty. She'll eat a meal and then say she has a taste for something sweet. Normal, right? After the sweet though, she'll have a taste for something salty. You know the next bit- it isn't long before she'll have a taste for something sweet. I remember a time when she could go through 3 or 4 iterations. Just a bite of each, but it would get funnier every time. Her pantry and refrigerator were filled with little snacks and sauces on either end of the spectrum, for when she got a "taste" for something.

**Anyone looking in my pantry might be able to find the same sort of pattern, without trying too hard.

Oh My

Haven't wanted to write about politics, for fear of jinxing things. Now that it looks like the election is decided, I'm overwhelmed. Are you? We could have 4 years of the most ordinary presidency (which could happen, all you left wingnuts out there), and I'll still think this is an amazing moment for us, one that I didn't think was very likely. I'm taking 5 minutes to taste the magic, so I don't forget how this feels.

Back to regular skepticism about politics and people tomorrow.