Hating a good time
This past weekend was a family reunion that wasn't really called a family reunion. Those of you that know me are aware of the fact that I love my family greatly, however I am constantly one twitch away from a padded room anytime I am around them. To say that I had some anxiety about this weekend would be a bit of an understatement; my wife and I decided a month or two ago that the best way to keep the panic to a minimum would be to give ourselves a nice long weekend to surround it.
So starting with Thursday, we both took off work to meet with our financial advisor and see just how much extra blood he was able to squeeze from our emaciated turnip. As it turns out, it's not so much with quantity of blood in said turnip as it is in how you squeeze it - kinda like the tube of toothpaste thing. (Sidebar: while I'm glad I went, I can honestly tell you that 7 years and three months ago, I handed the checkbook and financial duties over to my wife. While I do get consulted from time to time on financial things, in reality I go about my daily life generally assuming that the light will come on when the switch is flipped.)
Friday was spent at the marvelous Georgia Aquarium, something I will probably post some pics on at a later time when I get the film developed. Needless to say, it took us about two and a half hours to fully walk through; at no point did we feel rushed, crowded, or generally annoyed by other people, mostly b/c so few were there. Expensive, but very entertaining.
That leads to Friday evening, the first encounter with family would be. As we finished with the aquarium in record time, we decided to put the extra time in to a nap, the better with which to deal with the impending drama-tragedy. The only problem with this is I don't nap unless I'm sick. If I nap, it's more like a hibernation - two plus hours of blissful sleep followed by a feeling of sloth for the remainder of my waking hours on that day. To put it mildly, I was ill as a hornet for the trip up to Toccoa, Georgia - which my brother and I refer to as our second home. This reference is most often made as we're knee deep in the process of getting lost, something that would be difficult for Hellen Keller to do in this small, foothill town.
My lady and my hornet like self pulled in to where we would be staying for the night, the Simmons Bond Inn. Through a fortuitous series of events, my wife and I have become quite good friends with the innkeepers and stay there anytime we're in the areato get away from my family to have a wonderful night's rest and a fantastic breafast the following morning. This helps greatly, all things considered, and is usually the highlight of our weekend of family fun and screaming. For once, I'm glad this wasn't the case.
Friday night was pizza, cards, and general ballyhoo-ness had by all; my aunt, uncle and cousins ballyhooed themselves through over half their cases of beer, which I believe was responsible for having a far more pleasant Saturday, which consisted of bowling at quite possibly the smallest and worst bowling alley ever (but lots of fun), and smacking some softball around. At the latter event, I may have even created a new fan in my cousin, who learned how to hit a ball for the first time ever (she's 26).
This all brings me to my darling sister. I'll spare the general drama that she surrounds herself with; I'll also spare the many aspects of her life that bleed over to any family gathering. Just to give you the cliff notes, she's 26(?), has a two year old with a father that's all but non-existant, has made several other poor life decisions, and refuses to take reponsibility for herself (sadly, this also applies to her own child, one of the few bright spots in this mess). I've found that in past gatherings where she is around, by generally letting her go therefore and be a fruit while I walk away, my times around my family improve greatly. I am dismayed to report that I believe the same thing happened this weekend. Kind of interesting how you can have a good time, and end up hating it.
So starting with Thursday, we both took off work to meet with our financial advisor and see just how much extra blood he was able to squeeze from our emaciated turnip. As it turns out, it's not so much with quantity of blood in said turnip as it is in how you squeeze it - kinda like the tube of toothpaste thing. (Sidebar: while I'm glad I went, I can honestly tell you that 7 years and three months ago, I handed the checkbook and financial duties over to my wife. While I do get consulted from time to time on financial things, in reality I go about my daily life generally assuming that the light will come on when the switch is flipped.)
Friday was spent at the marvelous Georgia Aquarium, something I will probably post some pics on at a later time when I get the film developed. Needless to say, it took us about two and a half hours to fully walk through; at no point did we feel rushed, crowded, or generally annoyed by other people, mostly b/c so few were there. Expensive, but very entertaining.
That leads to Friday evening, the first encounter with family would be. As we finished with the aquarium in record time, we decided to put the extra time in to a nap, the better with which to deal with the impending drama-tragedy. The only problem with this is I don't nap unless I'm sick. If I nap, it's more like a hibernation - two plus hours of blissful sleep followed by a feeling of sloth for the remainder of my waking hours on that day. To put it mildly, I was ill as a hornet for the trip up to Toccoa, Georgia - which my brother and I refer to as our second home. This reference is most often made as we're knee deep in the process of getting lost, something that would be difficult for Hellen Keller to do in this small, foothill town.
My lady and my hornet like self pulled in to where we would be staying for the night, the Simmons Bond Inn. Through a fortuitous series of events, my wife and I have become quite good friends with the innkeepers and stay there anytime we're in the area
Friday night was pizza, cards, and general ballyhoo-ness had by all; my aunt, uncle and cousins ballyhooed themselves through over half their cases of beer, which I believe was responsible for having a far more pleasant Saturday, which consisted of bowling at quite possibly the smallest and worst bowling alley ever (but lots of fun), and smacking some softball around. At the latter event, I may have even created a new fan in my cousin, who learned how to hit a ball for the first time ever (she's 26).
This all brings me to my darling sister. I'll spare the general drama that she surrounds herself with; I'll also spare the many aspects of her life that bleed over to any family gathering. Just to give you the cliff notes, she's 26(?), has a two year old with a father that's all but non-existant, has made several other poor life decisions, and refuses to take reponsibility for herself (sadly, this also applies to her own child, one of the few bright spots in this mess). I've found that in past gatherings where she is around, by generally letting her go therefore and be a fruit while I walk away, my times around my family improve greatly. I am dismayed to report that I believe the same thing happened this weekend. Kind of interesting how you can have a good time, and end up hating it.
posted by misawa at 8:37 AM
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