I invited my sister and her family to visit us, an offer she accepted with an abruptness (the details of which I will omit except to say, not only does the woman not listen, she has issues with reading comprehension as well) that had me scrambling in preparation for two solid days. I suspect many frequently find day to day activities requiring fortitude, but having had the privilege of living in the U.S. albeit on island time, the rush of preparations was equally annoying, stressful and invigorating of which I am not complaining but clarifying.

I pressured myself to find new or different activities to merge with the old favorite activities to keep the trip from feeling like a recycled broken record of their previous visit. We’ve resided here long enough to fall into habits and comfort zones that stifle the search for new experiences, but such is the downfall of integrating into local culture. I don’t want to sound like a marketing campaign for the greater Chatt area so suffice it say, we spent time at a touristy venue, as well as less trendy adventures like the empty lot on the brow to see the groundhog family living in a gutted swimming pool, the plant nursery where the barn swallows nest and the watergarden store that has the most awesome koi pond. E.V.E.R. And yes, I am including the aquarium.

Hosting my family warps the natural momentum of our home. Think compare and contrast NOT whine. They are vibrant, loud, competitive, interruptive, intelligent, witty and emotionally demanding. Our house is quieter, passive aggressive and laid back (and probably emotionally demanding in an entirely different way). Not the best combined ingredients for a delicate pastry, but perfect for a cocktail that awakens you with a premature hangover headache at 3AM.

I enjoy spending time with them, but the stress often equals the joy. Aside from introverts, I think stay at home, or mostly at home moms understand it best. The nature of their position requires they be turned on and tuned in more than is required by those of us who lead largely solitary lives. I appreciated the roll of primary caregiver but more so after three days of not peeing alone.

It’s moments like this that I’m relieved not to be traveling with an inquisitive child in the car so that I can truly appreciate a moment of someone’s mischievous vision rather than concerning myself as to whether the little person traveling with me will a) be scarred for life or b) educate a class of kindergartners in the mythological proportions of feline genitalia.

For the curious among you, the bumper sticker on the lower write states, “Being a Self-Sufficient, Well-Adjusted Adult is Highly Overrated.” . And no, this isn’t my vehicle, nor was I driving when I took the photos.

I couldn’t think of anything else I should be doing as the Better Half retreated into the bathroom with his Christmas present for the maiden read, so I cleaned the stove.

*****

As time passes, I learn more about myself. I would have thought I knew myself by now, but no such luck.

It seems as though I can only tolerate sitting still if I am the one controlling the conditions. Being inactive because of someone else’s poor planning causes my heart to race, my teeth to grit, and me to fantasize about stabbing hand with a fork to get though the moment to keep my head from spinning three hundred and sixty degrees. These are my issues.

*****

We sat in my mother’s den worshiping the television as older people are wont to do. Though my mother is definitely a cat lady, she IS NOT a crazy cat lady, in spite of her lengthy conversations with the four legged denizens of her home. As she fought the urge to nod off in her chair, her loyal roommates took turns waking her up by gently pawing at her face, head butting her shoulder, and jumping on the seat back in an effort to convince her they were ready for bed.

*****

My sister’s house has more activity than any other place I visit (including airports). With 1 husband, two children, two dogs, four exotic lizards, seven cats, and approximately one thousand meal worms, there are many breathing things begging for your undivided attention. I try to distribute it, but the competition is….fierce.

*****

Colds have strange consequences. It doesn’t matter how great or how minor they are…they always zap my appetite. Alcohol? meh. Chocolate? meh. Spicy sausage lentil soup? meh. Bacon and eggs? I’ll have to get back to you on that.

*****

My cat, the Gatherer might have sleep apnea. He woke me from a deep sleep at 2:30 AM snoring. It was so loud I thought someone was talking outside my bedroom window. Snore Wheeze. Snore Wheeze.

look at the snow (earlier this month)….rather than discuss the rainy conditions that have wrecked havoc for the past two weeks. 4 inches of rain in 24 hours…yadda, yadda, yadda….main road washed out….yadda, yadda, yadda… hairpin road crowded single car passing at turns…yadda, yadda, yadda…flooded basement….yadda, yadda, yadda…gutter guard guarantees are useless…blah, blah, blah.

So I have been left to my own devices for seven days as the Mister has been away on business. This morning my sister was kind enough enough to email me a picture of my crack bracketed between a festive sweater and a pair of “not so mom” low slung pants. I am the ass of Christmas. My SIL only dreams of being the ass of Christmas. I’ll refrain from posting the photo. Crack kills.

My orchid seems to walking softly into the dark night, but the blooms lasted an entire month. And it was under my care! I suppose I’m getting cocky. Maybe I should try growing something else.

The town is getting into the Christmas spirit with tacky lights and static displays.

I’m not sure what to make of the decapitated police officer. Maybe he was in the book of Mathew?

Holiday shopping used to be enjoyable, and not the chore it became after years of monogamy. I want to do something thoughtful for my partner, but both of us have slipped into that phase of the relationship where it becomes increasingly difficult to purchase gifts for each other. Either we purchase things we want as we see them, or we want things that are uber expensive and completely unnecessary to maintain any quality of life. I’ve surprised him a few times, but those instances are rare.

Most years I keep things simple. This year, I tried for even simpler and suggested we get gutter guards for the house. I thought win win. No more getting on the roof with the leaf blower, no combing the catalogs, or searching electronic stores for the “it” gift, and no disappointing him with a pragmatic gift he needs rather than the extravagant gift he probably wants. He wasn’t having any part of it. Gutter guards were not sexy enough for Christmas. He said we’d get them anyway, in spite of Christmas not for because of it. Shit. Shopping.

******

The year we bought our first house, we agreed to scale back Christmas spending for each other. Occasionally pragmatism wins….but this time it won in the form of a foosball table. Not my idea of a sexy Christmas Gift, but I was so elated about not having to shop for something Better Half would like, I eagerly agreed.

Instead of writing a check or swiping plastic, we paid with found money. Found money being a margarita bucket full of loose change and over seventy bucks in one dollar bills. We did have the decency to roll the change…..at least most of it. The poor dude at the checkout, though, took longer to cash us out. Considering he spent his days swiping plastic and verifying checks, he was very patient with our rolled quarters and one dollar bills.