Archive for April 16th, 2007

Cherry Pie

They’re gone…or rather, they were. This morning, we had roughly 15 minutes of peace. Sweet, beautifully quiet peace full of nothing but warm breezes, (imaginary, Weight Watchers-approved) peach cobbler and mint juleps and vodka and giant blue cheese-stuffed olives and sunshine! Lots of sunshine!

Except it isn’t sunny in the Northeast. No, no. It’s a MONSOON, thankyouverymuch, and flights! Flights are canceled! Everywhere!

My in-laws, they linger beyond their initial departure date. And it’s fine, it’s really fine! Fine! But we’re tired. So very tired, although they’re probably much, much more tired than we are, and this situation is exhausting for everyone involved.

The weekend in a nutshell: Eat. Sleep. Talk. Talk. Talk. Eat. Eat. Eat. Talk. Eat. Talk. Hold baby. Eat. Talk. Pull crap out of dog’s mouth. Talk. Talk. Talk. Eat. Eat. Eat. Talk. Talk. Talk oh my God TALK.

Or, if you’re me, during all of that eating, you’re standing around looking forlornly at things like pizza! Cream cheese! DONUTS! whilst munching sadly on a pathetic little broccoli stalk and wondering why you can’t just suck it up and get fat again already, because at least oh my God AT LEAST your mouth would be full so you could have five minutes without having to talk.

Here’s the thing, though: Truthfully, I enjoy houseguests. I like the process of preparing baskets of wee toiletries and fresh sheets and warm towels and buying a ridiculous amount of breakfast foods that no one ever eats (Eggo waffles! Bagels! Eggs! BACON!), and it’s a little soothing to have a house full of people twittering around at all hours. I can even handle the talking, but after a certain point of being perpetually on like a 60-watt light bulb, you just start to crumble, and it comes out in unexpected ways. You know, like getting in someone else’s car or staring at a calculator and wondering aloud what kind of MIRACULOUS MACHINE is this, one that adds, subtracts and divides without a pencil?

We’re done in that fork-in-eye sense, and the fact that our black Honda Accord up and died a pathetic coughing death this morning left us relatively unscathed, because we’re just too tired to care. Also, the fact that my hair looks vaguely short mullet-esque and is the shade – the exact shade, once again – of Ronald McDonald’s only dawned on me this morning, leaving me with the horrible decision to ponder: do I let Squiggy, he of extreme hair dramatics and weak disposition, fix it, despite the fact that this is his second identical offense? Or do I go somewhere else, risking Squiggy’s eternal ire and potentially damaging clairvoyance and Carrie-like powers? The wrong decision could leave my head a thousand shades of red, either from a pool of blood or a botched color job.

However, I think someone else is going to have to decide, because I’m too tired to do anything but drink a big glass of leftover white zinfandel (my sister in law’s drink of choice) and stare blankly into space.

*Warrant. As I wrote this, I was watching a VH1 “Where Are They Now?” on Celebrity Fit Club contestants, which detailed the weight loss journeys of such iconic figures as Jackee, Gunnar Nelson and former Warrant lead singer Jani Lane who won’t stop singing – you guessed it – Cherry Pie. Not surprisingly, he won’t stop talking about how desperately he wants to move on.

16 comments April 16th, 2007


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