WorldWideWaterCooler

I keep meaning to write, but I really have nothing exciting or interesting to say.

But I got sick of seeing the Fiber Bar entry, so here is a boring, uninteresting update.

Read on if you dare…

Because I have no kids, and don’t know too many people who do, I was completely oblivious to the fact that March 15, 2008 is the first weekend of Spring Break. So plans to have a wedding at a destination resort that day were firmly thwarted. The weekend following that is Easter. Of the remaining March Saturdays we’ve decided on the 29th. So a year from today we’ll be gettin’ hitched. Kookookachoo.

I’ve enlisted the services of a professional resumé writer, and used the past week as time to get my portfolio together and get a bunch of other long-overdue errands done. I still don’t like being at home all day, but I am getting used to it.

We’re hosting the 2nd annual Cinco de Mayo fiasco. Hopefully with slightly less hostess-experienced fiascos this year. That said, if you were invited last year, check your email inboxes (or the spam folders – it was sent through evite). If you somehow didn’t get an invite this year, this is the one occasion I open my house for all and sundry to partake in the debauchery and tequila. Comment or drop me a line if you’d like to join us.

Today I’m also playing Florence Nightengale. There’s some sort of flu-like thing going around and Neil has it. We also had his youngest sister over last night, and she sounds pretty sick too. So far I’m calling it the Watkiss Death Rattle, and popping ColdFX like there’s no tomorrow in an effort to ward it off. Then again, Gill has it too, so perhaps it’s some kind of Nerd Flu.

See. Told you life was boring ’round these parts. Anything exciting up with any of you?

Update (5:26pm): I am feeling snotty, and a wee bit achey. This does not bode well.

Those who know me at all know that I am not what you’d call “kid friendly.” I’ve been known to make small children cry just by looking at them, and I wish I were exaggerating even a little bit about that.

So it was with only a little apprehension that I went over to Neil’s friends Ben & Julie’s place for dinner last night.

Thankfully Ben and Julie are extraordinarily lovely people, because they are also parents to a not-quite-two-year-old.

Also helping matters was the fact that Louis is one of the most charming not-quite-two-year-olds I’ve ever encountered.

Although when the clock struck bedtime for dear Louis, I was tested as I’ve never been tested before.

Kiddo was pushing a big box around the table, as the over 3-feet tall crowd sat and digested. Suddenly, Neil decided he’d see what happened when he took the box away.

Disaster struck.

Thanks Neil.

Poor wee Louis erupted into a fountain of tears and reached for the closest adult.

Me.

What could I do?

I picked up the child (oh god – I touched one!) and he buried his face in my shoulder.

I thought, miracle of miracles, that would be enough.

But not unlike dogs, small kids can also smell fear.

Louis pulled back, and instead of his mom, there was some strange woman’s face looking back at him.

Realizing his terrible mistake, Louis “kicked it up a notch,” contorted his face a la Jim Carey in The Mask, and let out a wail that would shatter crystal and send every dog in a 6 block radius running.

I sat paralysed for what felt like forever (read: 4 seconds) until Julie stepped in and whisked him off to bed.

Between that, and dressing the dog as Snow White, it’s a wonder that the Ministry of Children hasn’t pre-emptively sterilized me yet.

Oh no she didn’t!

Oh yes I did!

This is what happens when I’ve already mentally checked out of a job, and people aren’t updating their blogs fast enough.

Neil, will you ever forgive me?

I hope you all took the time today to let the guy you call Dad know how much he’s appreciated.

But here’s a tip, special from me to you:

When you get him something called a Reciprocating Saw, it doesn’t matter that you don’t know what it does or why he wants one.

Just don’t tell your dad to “Enjoy his big tool,” otherwise your mom will shoot wine out her nose.

Grandparents on their 55th Anniversary

Originally uploaded by peechie.

No wonder I have such high expectations!

I figure if I can’t find someone to grow old with, who I’m this happy with, whom I love this much after 55 years together, well I’d just rather live with cats.

Happy Anniversary Oma & Opa!

I had almost forgotten what a crazy tempest of pressure and expectations Christmas can be. Colene is lamenting a little about her lack of significant other and family pressure. Vern is singing a slightly different tune – however he is obviously insane as well.

Nobody’s seemed to echo my sentiments on the holiday of late however – so I figure I’ll weigh in on the debate.

I. Love. Christmas. I always have, and likely always will. My family has a low enough dysfunction level, and enough common sense that it’s never been one of those huge be-all-end-all occasions with debt and pressure and not much fun. It’s only grown better as my cousins, brothers and I have grown up. Nobody spends exhorbitant amounts of money on anyone else. Gifts are either thoughtful or useful. No kitsch, no filler.

It’s even better now that there are no little kids around to impress or build grand illusions for. The presents live under the tree until Christmas morning, when we leisurely get up, have coffee (usually with liquor of some sort) and laugh while watching the dog go bezerk with his stocking and the wrapping paper. We drink a lot, eat a lot, and generally spend the day relaxing. The only exceptions to this are when we sober up long enough to go to Christmas mass, and about 15 minutes of hurrying as all the Christmas dinner dishes are finishing up cooking and need plating at the same time.

This will also be the first Christmas since I was bout 13 (can we say codependent?) that I’ve been single. It’s a HUGE weight off of my shoulders. Not only does it leave me with a nice extra chunk of cash in the Christmas budget, but it also means no juggling of families that, frankly, are not as cool as mine.

I understand everyone has different experiences that shape their personal feelings about the winter holiday season, but I wish the same for all of you: No matter what you choose to do with the holiday (whether it’s a whirlwind of everything or ignoring it and doing nothing), may it be rewarding and relaxing, and exactly what you want it to be.

(Say the title in the voice of Paul Sr. from American Choppers. Unless you have no cable like Nelly and have no clue what I’m talking about. In which case, ignore this, and keep reading.)

My Oma & Opa – that’s Grandma & Grandpa for those who don’t know – (both nearly 80) just leapt into the 21st Century and purchased a DVD Player. The only reason they did this is so that they can view movies that their relatives are sending them from overseas (yes, they got a worldwide player).

I’m thinking for Christmas I’ll get them a DVD or two. But I need ideas. Here’s where all y’all come in. Which DVDs do we think they would they like? A bit of background: They’re Dutch (Immigrated in the 50′s). Their doctor has advised against talking about the war, since they both lived through it and it riles them up more than their heart problems are comfortable with. They stare blankly when presented with anything containing a pop-culture reference. They watch The Young and the Restless and America’s Funniest Home Videos religiously. They also enjoy watching those Andre Rieu concerts on PBS.

They rarely watch movies, and when they do the experience goes something like this:
Opa: What did they just say?
Oma: *repeats dialogue*
Opa: What?
Oma: *repeats dialogue again*
Opa: Oh, Ok.
Oma: Now what’s going on? (since she missed what was happening as she was reciting the movie)
Opa: *explains what just happened*
Oma: Oh, Ok.
Opa: What did they just say?

Repeat for the length of the movie. I think the last one they watched and enjoyed was “Grumpy Old Men.”

So.. bring it on… any DVD suggestions?

It is not an easy feat to keep a dozen or so baby boomers entertained, well-fed and hydrated over the course of 5-6 hours. Add to this the duties of recording which gifts were from whom, depositing various bouquets of flowers into vases, and cleaning up the entire bag of ice I so cleverly dumped all over the kitchen floor, and it becomes less of a party and more of a three-ring circus, with me as ringleader.

But these are the things one puts herself through when her dear mother turns half a century old.

In addition to this, I tried to play the clever, witty hostess and engage in some casual banter with the guests, the majority of whom have known me as either a tiny baby, or a delinquent teenager, or both.

One gentleman in particular, made fast-friends with my parents’ dog. The dog is normally a skittish beast, and fearful of men in general as he was abused as a puppy. But for some reason, he immediately sidled up to Len and hardly left his ankle area for most of the evening.

Thinking I was being clever (and recalling the scene in As Good As It Gets where Jack Nicholson wins over Verdell the dog with a pocketful of pork product), I said to Len “You must smell like bacon on something!” About three seconds after the sentence leaves my lips, it dawns on me…

Len is a cop.

I should’ve just stayed in the kitchen.

Happy Thanksgiving shout outs to all my brothers and sisters south of the 49th.

Special thanks for y’all not going too crazy at the airports last night, so my dad could get home from LA with a minimum of incident.

It’s a ridiculously beautiful autumn day here – I wonder if I claimed to be American for a day, I could take the day off, go home and frolic?

Oh, and something I’ve noticed about blogs – they all seem to have an “about” page. All except me that is. Do y’all want one? That’s especially for the lurkers out there – it’s not like anyone who knows me would find out anything new.

Because I’m such a wonderful child, my parents brought me some lovely trinkets from their excursion overseas.

Among the spoils:
-Belgian Chocolage (from Belgium of course)
-Framed Art Print from Verona of Juliet’s balcony
-Fancy cheese themed Apron from Pisa (came in handy while making the turkey)
-Jewelry from Holland (where my family’s from)
-Beer Stein from Germany
-Scarf from Mt. Titlus in Swizerland

Now about this scarf… it’s fleecy and warm and lovely. My brothers got AJAX football scarves, and I got the Titlus one. All was fine and well. But my mom had to go and spoil it.

(Background – all the women in my family are all very well endowed. All except me.)

Titlus is pronounced “tit-less.” And darling mother just had to say “I was going to get you a shirt honey, but I couldn’t bear to give you a shirt that said “TITLUS” across the front. It just wouldn’t be at all ironic if you wore it.

Thanks Mom. At least I have that Belgian chocolate to console myself with.

So, I picked today to tell my parents that my boyfriend is moving in.

This is going to be a doozie folks, so grab a beverage, and settle in….
(more…)

I got a call from my mom the other day. This in itself isn’t terribly unusual, but what she had to say is. Apparently my grandmother is pretty ill. Ill enough to admit to being utterly incapacitated. The fact that she will admit that something is wrong means that whatever it is, it’s pretty serious.

Now I know that my grandparents are no spring chickens. They’re both well into their 70′s now, and have been showing slight signs for a few years of that human wear and tear that we all know so well (first and foremost being telling the same stories over and over and over and over….). But other than that, they’ve been really quite self-sufficient and have managed to successfully battle the illnesses life’s thrown at them (heart attacks, cancer, diabetes to name a few).

Now it seems that time has finally caught up, and my grandmother seems to have aged 10 years in the past week or so. This completely and utterly freaks me out. My grandparents have been a huge part of my life, for as long as I’ve lived it. Heck, I grew up down the street from them. Now that their health has taken a turn for the worse, I’m realizing that I’m the furthest thing from okay with that. I’ve always just expected that they’d be around for everything in my life – and now that I’m realizing that they won’t, I’m incredibly terrified.

Goddammit I hate talking about feelings. Maybe I’ll just delete this.