Before I know it, my Uncle Ron, Aunt Kelly, and cousins Ashleigh and Jamie show up. I’m excited, because—although Ash knows a lot of my friends—Lauren and I weren’t really hanging out the last time she came down. So, Lauren and I are walking up the stairs to the door that separates my “area” from the main house. She looks at me, a little shifty and says, “I have no idea why, but I’m really nervous about meeting your family.
This, to me, is hysterical. Come on! It’s Lauren, everybody likes Lauren! Whatever. So, we clamber up the stairs. I do some introductions, and we take seats. We get into a toned down retelling of our past few days…or rather, I do, and Lauren sits and smiles serenely. I’m thinking, “whose the blond quiet chick?” More family heads in…Steve & Cheryl with Jocelyn (my favorite!)…Mike…and Len. Steve, Len, Lauren, and I end up in the kitchen together, while I wait to introduce Len to Lauren and vise versa. After I do, Steve says something along the lines of, “Yeah, she’s not going to tell you now, but Christine’s been keeping a little secret she’s going to share with us later.” As in, I’m gay…
Yeah, not so much. Not so much, also for Lauren (HI STEVE!)
I hit him or something equally deserved, and Lauren and I grab some of my grandparents’ wine…they bottle their own special blend and it is the most amazing stuff. Anyways, back in the main arena…My family is big, okay? On this side alone, we’re talking 2 grandparents, 5 uncles, 2 aunts, 6 cousins, a dog, and a partridge in a pair tree. We get louder, as we everyone gets better lubricated by their own choice of alcohol. FINALLY, Lauren starts talking…which is good…to my Uncle Steve…which is…well, interesting to say the least. The two of them are the masters of the snark. Witty repertoire turns a little nasty, but everyone comes out smiling, so I’m cool. Mid craziness Lauren looks at me and smiles, “I can totally see you being like [Jocelyn] when you were younger.” Barring the fact we have completely different coloring, Jocelyn and I do have a lot in common…er, that is to say, I had a lot in common with her when I was that age…not now. Hehe…riiiiight.
People start to disperse and I’m tired again. Lauren and I head downstairs…where she discovers that, despite my best attempts to get her sustenance, I do not own munchie food. I sneak back up the stairs to swipe a roll…Lauren redoes my rock garden, claming that there was no Zen-ly-ness to her raking. There was a slight issue of spilt diet coke in the rock garden sand…which is still clumped like cat litter Lauren! >:(
I digress. So…some time later, we head up for dinner. My grandparents work at stuffing food on our plates. With all this stacked food, I feel like I’m playing Jenga. The best part of the meal, for me—well, not including my Grandmother’s amazing desserts—is the conversation. First of all, we get Lauren at a table of Roman Catholics for grace…right around the point I hit “we are about to receive” I almost start laughing. Lauren at least has her head bowed…or maybe she was just eyeing her food, I’m not sure on that one…so she looks properly devout. Hahaha. Lauren had mentioned earlier how she couldn’t see eight people living in my grandparents’ house, and I explained that it was all divided differently. This brings up sleeping arrangements, both pre and post money. Len, who was the youngest of five children for nine years, tells the story of how he wanted Steve to be a girl…so she could stay in my mom’s room. He’s like, “I cried for a week straight.” Grandma jumps in, “He did…we didn’t know that was why, but he did.” I also get some tails of my mom as a young girl…how she cheered for the all boys high school…heh, my mamma was no dummy…and played softball like a boy…basically just your all around hot, athletic super sister. Lauren and Len get into some vegetarian talk, which somehow ends with the awful thought of fish jerky. Dessert signals the end, and Lauren opts for apple pie…before the words even come out of my Grandmother’s mouth, I know Lauren is going to look at me and say, “I’m sorry what? Cheese?” (The words are, “Would you like ice cream or cheese with that?”) Apparently it’s an English thing.
With dinner over, Lauren and I try and decide if we even want to go out…we muddle around, eventually doing the make-up and hair thing, but it’s all casual, so nothing crazy. MGFM calls to see if we want to go to the local bar. We say okay, and tell him we’ll give him a call when we’re ready. He calls…and calls…and calls. First he’s worried about his clothes…then it’s meeting Lauren…then not being ready when we get there…then his clothes…then meeting Lauren in his clothes…so on and so forth. It’s funny…in the way that will stop being funny quite soon. Finally we pick him up, introductions are made, and we’re off to Jack Astor’s Bar. Lauren and I have decided to be Corey Hart, and are wearing our super big framed sunglasses.
We get to the bar, MGFM orders his new favorite drink—that I introduced him to—a Tokyo Tea, Lauren gets a wine, and I rock a martini. MGFM is mesmerized by the length of Lauren’s arm. Given, her wingspan is something like six feet, so…you got to figure around two and a half feet per arm. MGFM proceeds by taking pictures of her hand wrapped around glasses and such. The only thing I really remember sticking out about the night, was our discussion about “Canadians.” Haha…okay, this is not for the easily offended, so if that’s you—and I have NO idea how you lasted this long on this blog—head to a new page, please and thank you. You see, Lauren and (her bf) Steve have this thing wear they use “Canadians” instead of saying, “Blacks”…for instance, “Look at the crazy outfits on those Canadians.” Well, MGFM, Lauren and I try to work this angle…it gets very confusing, because at some points we’re actually talking about Canadians, and other times we mean Black people…I swear it had nothing to do with the drinking.
Due to the earliness Lauren and I have been pulling, we decide to leave around 12ish. We drop MGFM off, head back to the house and do nothing for awhile. I make Lauren take some Melatonin because she hasn’t been sleeping very well. I get her a new pillow and set her up in bed, and camp out with her for awhile…mostly looking for the Queer Eye for the Straight Guy theme for MGFM…Lauren and I talk about MGFM and Lauren drops the…I honestly think you should call him M-V-GFM (V, for VERY). We giggle and Lauren starts to get heavy eye syndrome. I take the cue and park my ass on the futon in the living room. I do some writing, and then pass out myself.
We get up relatively early. We’re in no rush, because my family has informed me that, due to Canadian—not black, mind you…SEE, it gets confusing!—Thanksgiving, everywhere is going to be closed. Lauren packs and we get ready for the day. In the end, we decide to head to my pseudo-heaven Chapters, and it’s attached Starbucks where—of course—MGFM works. Our first order of business is to locate a big, colorful map of the US, so that MGFM can see how far Washington, D.C. is from Seattle, Washington. It takes FOREVER, but we finally find an atlas and hall it up to the counter. MGFM informs us that someone explained it to him earlier that day…Lauren and I are like, “Just once? ‘Cause, pretty sure we tried to tell you about six different times.” Whatever, he buys our lunches and coffees, so no complaining on my part.
While we’re eating, MGFM takes a break…he too makes a comment on the size of my breasts…which is one of those things that sounds funnier on paper…er on blog…whatever, you know what I mean…he goes on to suggest that I could be pregnant…Now THAT is funny. I’m like, yeah, well, unless Spiritu Sancto has picked me for the next Immaculate Conception, this theory is highly unlikely. MGFM gives me a knowing look. I’m thinking, boy, you have no idea what you do or do not know.
Sex…hmm…seems like a distant memory.
Sorry, sorry…moving on. So, Lauren and I peruse the books and magazines, pay for our selections and head out to the airport. On the way we see an open mall. Neither of us is pleased at this turn of events. We get to the airport early, so I park. I also remember that—up to this point—we have taken absolutely no pictures. God, I hate my life sometimes. Okay, so I decide first order of business is to get someone to take our picture. Heh…ever tried to find a helpful person in a busy international airport? Then you’re feeling me on this one. Finally a bar tender snaps the shot for us…for which I feel guilty and buy a bag of peanuts…yeah, I have no idea either.
We wander around the “shopping” area…and funnily enough find not only a ROOTS store, but salmon jerky…as in the fish jerky we’d joked about the night before? That was an amazing moment in my life. We try to determine the meaning of the word ‘Hoser’ with little avail, although we kind of figure it’s slightly derogatory. We find some clever shirts, but no purchases are made…finally the time is winding down, and there really are no more excuses to just hang around. I thank her for coming up and hope she had fun…and leave feeling like I barely got to see her.
It takes me another week to recover from my lack of sleep, but I wouldn’t take it back for the world.
LOVE YOU, LAUREN!!!
Quote of the Moment: “You know the world is going crazy when the best rapper is a white guy, the best golfer is a black guy, the tallest guy in the NBA is Chinese, the Swiss hold the America's Cup, France is accusing the U.S. of arrogance, Germany doesn't want to go to war, and the three most powerful men in America are named 'Bush', 'Dick', and 'Colon'.”
Soundtrack of the Moment: A mix cd I made back when Napster was free and legal…
TV/Movie Quote: From Prison Break, “We could cut off all his limbs, he still wouldn't talk. Pain's not the answer here. Maybe the Beatles were right. Maybe all you need is love.”