Homes and Such

I am back safe and sound from New Jersey. And cheers to Amtrak for offering a far superior, far more civilized alternative to air travel. Despite the flamboyant theatre major who sat opposite me on the trip down and broke into showtunes apropos of nothing, it was a fairly uneventful trip there and back.

All in all, it was an uneventful weekend for the most part. My uncle is, not surprisingly, still a racist and a bigot and, even though I informed him several times that I was a flaming liberal, he didn't get my warning and kept saying things that more than enraged my sense of propriety. Here's hoping the NSA hasn't actually wiretapped me or my parents' home.

I got into a small argument with my mother that was fairly consistent as far as our arguments go. I get upset because she says/does something that makes it all about her. She asks why I'm upset. I tell her. She makes it all about her. I get more upset. She cries. (Variation here is to fake a heartattack, collapse, or otherwise indicate an imminent death.) I relent and apologize. She makes it all about her. We both end crying, telling each other we love each other. I understand EXACTLY how unhealthy this pattern is, but there you have it. Family dynamics at play.

This time, the argument started when I mentioned that it hurt that they were acting like I should have my shit entirely together when, um, I just 1) had my heart trounced 2) started a new job 3) moved to a new house 4) in a new town. Somehow, this turned into a 10 minute sob fest on how much she missed my aunt and how she will never have a friend like her again and how lonely she is without my aunt to talk to and how she thinks about her every day and will never get over her death. I mean, don't get me wrong. I am very sad that my darling mom feels this way, but it was kinda beside the point of the discussion in the first place. N'est-ce pas?

(Note: for those that think I'm a cold hearted biotch, let me point out that my aunt passed 10 years ago. Still sad, but not exactly a fresh wound.)

But I'm happy to report that that was the low point of the weekend. We still managed to have a great time at Kids' Day, although I took the world's WORST PHOTO EVER. I hid for a few hours on Turkey Day itself and got some novelling done. And, I hung out with Best Friend in Taco Bell for 2 and a half hours, like you do. (Oh, yea, losers club mixes up their grilled stufft burrito's, but that's another story. BF, I'm sorry you had to watch me dig chicken out of a bean-filled tortilla!)

Now, I'm back at home and thrilled to be here. I'm still adjusting to life in a northern town, but I am filled with hope that it won't be long before it really does feel like a home. Because every year, NJ feels less and less like home. It's sad. But it's true. This little girl is growing up.