Thanksgiving was fantastic. For the first time in years I actually had a nice time. Boyfiend’s family is just so normal. They actually like each other. My dad arrived around four and didn’t leave until ten. Usually he’s racing me to the door. I was so happy that he seemed to get along with everyone. As expected, he told his usual blonde jokes and shared an inappropriate email forward with a punch line about a woman keeping her legs closed, but after that he relaxed, and it sounded as though he was having actual conversations with people. Everything was good. It’s going to be hard for me to adjust to not despising the holiday season.
One of the best parts of the weekend was seeing old friends. I had brunch on Friday at Murray’s with one of my best friends from middle school. She spent two years in Ghana and now she’s in law school. It seems like only yesterday we were lying about our age with boys old enough to know better. It’s hard to believe we’re grownups.
Friday night at the bed and breakfast was incredibly relaxing. I love steeping in a steaming hot whirlpool, dizzy from the wine and the heat. I love 9000 thread count sheets. I love that even when we’re in a king size bed, Boyfiend and I cling to each other when we sleep. And the spa shower. Oh, how I loved the spa shower, with its two showerheads and four wall jets.
I saw college friends Saturday. I love that E2 brought me the entire season of My So-Called Life on DVD. I hadn’t seen it in years. It turns out I still have a massive crush on Jordan Catalano- the character, not the actor who plays him. It’s sort of similar to my love affair with Lloyd Dobbler. He may be a fictional character, but he’s still the great love of my life.
I had brunch on Sunday with E, a prince among men, who has the patience to grocery shop with me. Thank you. Then I made a chicken in the Baby George Rotisserie my mother gave me. Cleaning that thing is a bitch, but the chicken was delicious.
I also read an entire book and two magazines, watched most of season one of The Office, saw the original The Manchurian Candidate, and the first two episodes of My So-Called Life. In between the good stuff were the icky parts. I was my usual malcontent self, picking fights for no reason, while insisting there was nothing wrong. Every time I see my mother I turn into a monster for the hours beforehand, and it usually takes me a day or two to recover. The sad part is that this happens even when we don’t fight. At least I’m aware of it. You can’t fix it if you can’t admit it’s happening.
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