girlfiend

While I truly believe that most families are dysfunctional, mine is far more fucked up than most. Last night (which was actually 4 in the afternoon), at dinner, my two cousins were in the same place at the same time for the first time I can remember in probably two years. This time, they were very well behaved. They didn’t yell or scream at each other, there was no sarcasm or subtle digs, no arguments over money or television shows. Their mother on the other hand had a complete meltdown. Perhaps this was partially my fault.

The invitation was for 4 o’clock. Who the hell eats at 4 o’clock in the afternoon? I was about a half hour late. When I arrived there were cries of, “Where were you? We’re hungry. We’ve been waiting.” Let me repeat. Who the hell eats at 4 o’clock in the afternoon? Apparently my aunt thought she had set more than enough places at the table. She sent my cousin to retrieve an extra chair. As there were four seats at the table and six of us, he returned with two extra chairs. My aunt flipped out. She couldn’t understand why he insisted on ignoring her and getting two chairs instead of one, when clearly only one chair was needed. They argued back and forth for at least five minutes before we were able to convince her that six people required six chairs. I can’t even imagine what would have happened if Boyfiend had shown up. Her head could have exploded.

As is tradition on the Jewish New Year, she brought out a plate with apples and honey. If I remember correctly, you dip the apples in honey to symbolize a sweet year. With the plate in hand she started yelling at her son J to get going with the prayers already. “Why aren’t you eating? Why hasn’t anyone touched the challah? Eat the apples? What’s wrong with you?” We– Paul, his sister Meg, my divorced parents and I– just sat and stared as she became increasingly hysterical. At this point my mother stood, grabbed her sister by the arm and took her in the other room where I believe she told her to chill the fuck out.

Paul led us in prayer. We began to eat and make small talk. We talked about Da Ali G Show, Six Feet Under, my cousin Paul’s staunch republicanism, my voting solely on the basis of women’s reproductive rights. My father and I began to drink. He and I polished off a bottle of wine without offering any to the others. As my teeth grew increasingly more purple, I began to feed more and more of my meal to the dogs in attendance. Thankfully I am an only child. It seems that sibling rivalry is unavoidable in my family- even the two dogs dislike each other.

I was so relieved to make it out of there in one piece. And so relieved Boyfiend didn’t go with me. His whole family is so Waltons-esque that scenes as minor as the one I just described make him feel sorry for me and what he seems to think of as my unhappy childhood. Last night’s shenanigans were quite mild in comparison to the usual holiday scenes.

Happy 5765 people. L’shanah tovah tikatev v’taihatem.