Update time. OPERATION HOLIDAY FAMILY FREAKDOWN IN TEXAS went swimmingly, as in it went the (b) route. Worth it.
Even more worth it because -- joyful surprise! -- Jonathan and I got two ticket vouchers in exchange for volunteering to get bumped to a later flight to Austin. We arrived within a couple hours of our original arrival time, and we got to fly first class (which these days isn't as dazzling as one might imagine but still, not bad). So we can now plan a special trip wherever we want, whenever we want, however we want. Amazing how that perked up our spirits and took off some of the we spent $1200, and for what?! pressure.
The other tangible outcome of all the stress was that we had a frank discussion with my family about holiday traditions and the need for change. As in: I told them we will be celebrating Christmas in Oregon next year, and they are welcome to visit me if they want to. It was a good, hard conversation, and I think they more or less understood. As our friend Debbie so wisely pointed out, you can’t create new traditions for yourself until you stop trying to hold onto the old ones. We're adults now, and it's time for us to buy our own tree and make our own goll-dang traditions.
Other highlights:
+ Hearing Jonathan's grandparents tell stories -- I am always reminded, when I'm around them, of where Jonathan gets his incredible gift for spinning tales and holding court with grace and charm. This is a trait that I admire in Texans in general (and I am not just saying this to suck up to Jonathan's family).
+ But as long as I'm sucking up, Jonathan's family bought me a wonderful gift: cowboy boots! I'm like a little kid, I want to wear them all the time.
+ Of course I ate the most incredible, tender, smoky BBQ I have ever had the pleasure of consuming. Complete with pickled okra and hush puppies. Mmmmmmmm.
+ My parents gave us a food dehydrator which maybe doesn't sound that exciting but trust me, it is. We can dry our own mushrooms and tomatoes. Which is going to help us with our grand goal of living entirely off our garden produce year-round.
+ Though we only saw my family for one day in Austin, it was a delightful jam packed day, featuring chilaquiles for breakfast, pho for dinner, dominoes, happy hour, a hot tub, an engagement announcement and new year resolutions. Plus my mom half asleep and giggling on the couch.
Now we're back in Portland preparing for our grand escape to NYC which alternately thrills and terrifies me. But then again pretty much everything in life alternately thrills and terrifies me.
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Holiday Stress, and other cliches
So. I am experiencing holiday anxiety. Also known as a BEING A LIVING BREATHING ORGANISM. You can tell I'm anxious because I'm expressing most of my emotions in ALL CAPS and use the word FREAKING a lot. Though if that's my criteria than I guess I'm anxious all the time.
Point being, I have not bought a plane ticket yet and my family is cheerfully expecting me to be in Dallas in five days.
Dallas is where my sister, my aunt and her family live. My parents are driving down from Michigan to convene upon it.
And Jonathan’s family, down in Corpus Christi, are expecting us on Christmas Eve.
Every time we visit Texas I forget how FREAKING HUGE it is, so once again I blithely thought we could fly into Dallas, swing down to Corpus, hit Austin on the way, drive back up to Dallas – everyone would be happy. Awesome, road trip! But I forgot that Corpus Christi is a six hour drive from Dallas.
So the reality is: we will fly into Dallas, spend two days there, on Christmas Eve drive six hours down to Corpus, spend two days there, then drive back up to Dallas, stopping in Austin to see some old friends, then fly out early in the morning so we can be back in Portland for a rehearsal. (oh yeah, we’re flying to New York on January 4th). Are we even going to have time to stop at a BBQ joint? Side note, I love writing BBQ. I wish more long words had 3-letter abbreviations. Like, instead of full-blown panic attack I could just say I’m in the middle of a FBPA. Wait, that’s just an acronym. How about HYPVN8 intead of hyperventilate? It’s not the same. BBQ is in a class of its own.
Anyway, the real reality is, (see opening sentence – I’m on a continuous loop) I haven’t bought the tickets yet, and they’re insanely expensive, and I am engaging in what is the most extreme case of denial yet in a long and storied career of practicing denial.
I know, I’m sounding whiny. And this is the most boring post ever. But right now tickets to Dallas are around $700 and it’s way cheaper to fly into Austin. But if we fly into Austin… oh dear lord. That adds a three hour trip that looks something like this:
Austin --> 3 HOURS --> Dallas --> 6 HOURS --> Corpus Christi --> 6 HOURS@#%&$%!!! --> Dallas --> 3 HOURS --> Austin (in time for a 6am flight).
THAT IS MADNESS. But if I tell my parents this is too expensive and complicated for me to handle this year, they’ll alternately shout and sob hysterically about how the family has fallen apart and life will never be the same and what’s $1400 compared to SAVING THE FAMILY?
When will the day come where people come to me for the holidays? I know, I know. When I have a baby. Which sounds less complicated right now than trying to figure out all these travel details.
UPDATE: ok, I just talked to my parents and we came up with an alternate plan where they meet me in Austin on the 26th. And they did not shout or sob hysterically. So I was just being a big old stressball for no reason.
UPDATE #2: Did I mention that I have not bought (or lovingly handmade) any presents yet?
UPDATE #3: I bought the tickets. The thing is, I don't know if in 7 days I will be (a) rolling on the floor laughing with my sister saying THANK GOD I BOUGHT THOSE TICKETS or (b) on the road exhausted and too broke to buy a taco saying WHY IN THE NAME OF SWEET JESUS DID YOU LET ME BUY THOSE TICKETS. To my poor long suffering partner who is asleep on the couch right now. He was so happy an hour ago when he thought I'd decided, screw it, not worth it, this time we're staying home for the holidays.
Anyway, I'll let you know in a week whether it goes direction a or b. Unless it swerves madly in an abab bcbc cdcd ee pattern in which case I will express my feelings in the form of a sonnet.
Point being, I have not bought a plane ticket yet and my family is cheerfully expecting me to be in Dallas in five days.
Dallas is where my sister, my aunt and her family live. My parents are driving down from Michigan to convene upon it.
And Jonathan’s family, down in Corpus Christi, are expecting us on Christmas Eve.
Every time we visit Texas I forget how FREAKING HUGE it is, so once again I blithely thought we could fly into Dallas, swing down to Corpus, hit Austin on the way, drive back up to Dallas – everyone would be happy. Awesome, road trip! But I forgot that Corpus Christi is a six hour drive from Dallas.
So the reality is: we will fly into Dallas, spend two days there, on Christmas Eve drive six hours down to Corpus, spend two days there, then drive back up to Dallas, stopping in Austin to see some old friends, then fly out early in the morning so we can be back in Portland for a rehearsal. (oh yeah, we’re flying to New York on January 4th). Are we even going to have time to stop at a BBQ joint? Side note, I love writing BBQ. I wish more long words had 3-letter abbreviations. Like, instead of full-blown panic attack I could just say I’m in the middle of a FBPA. Wait, that’s just an acronym. How about HYPVN8 intead of hyperventilate? It’s not the same. BBQ is in a class of its own.
Anyway, the real reality is, (see opening sentence – I’m on a continuous loop) I haven’t bought the tickets yet, and they’re insanely expensive, and I am engaging in what is the most extreme case of denial yet in a long and storied career of practicing denial.
I know, I’m sounding whiny. And this is the most boring post ever. But right now tickets to Dallas are around $700 and it’s way cheaper to fly into Austin. But if we fly into Austin… oh dear lord. That adds a three hour trip that looks something like this:
Austin --> 3 HOURS --> Dallas --> 6 HOURS --> Corpus Christi --> 6 HOURS@#%&$%!!! --> Dallas --> 3 HOURS --> Austin (in time for a 6am flight).
THAT IS MADNESS. But if I tell my parents this is too expensive and complicated for me to handle this year, they’ll alternately shout and sob hysterically about how the family has fallen apart and life will never be the same and what’s $1400 compared to SAVING THE FAMILY?
When will the day come where people come to me for the holidays? I know, I know. When I have a baby. Which sounds less complicated right now than trying to figure out all these travel details.
UPDATE: ok, I just talked to my parents and we came up with an alternate plan where they meet me in Austin on the 26th. And they did not shout or sob hysterically. So I was just being a big old stressball for no reason.
UPDATE #2: Did I mention that I have not bought (or lovingly handmade) any presents yet?
UPDATE #3: I bought the tickets. The thing is, I don't know if in 7 days I will be (a) rolling on the floor laughing with my sister saying THANK GOD I BOUGHT THOSE TICKETS or (b) on the road exhausted and too broke to buy a taco saying WHY IN THE NAME OF SWEET JESUS DID YOU LET ME BUY THOSE TICKETS. To my poor long suffering partner who is asleep on the couch right now. He was so happy an hour ago when he thought I'd decided, screw it, not worth it, this time we're staying home for the holidays.
Anyway, I'll let you know in a week whether it goes direction a or b. Unless it swerves madly in an abab bcbc cdcd ee pattern in which case I will express my feelings in the form of a sonnet.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Moving out to Oregon, wide open
On September 9, 1999 (just over ten years ago!) my best friend, Aryn, and I got into my blue Honda accord in the driveway of my parents’ house in Lansing, Michigan and set off on a journey. It’s strange to look back on that moment. I was doing something adventurous and foolhardy – I knew it – and I was thrilled. We had just graduated from college that May, and we both had gone to school close to home. For me, it was a gut shot of lightning – if I didn't leave now, I never would. And if I stayed – I couldn’t see what I would do if I stayed.
I didn’t know where I was going. I didn’t know if I would come back. I didn’t know what I wanted to do other than write and find people like me. I wanted to find my generation’s equivalent of Greenwich Village in the 30s. I wanted to find where things were going on, which was most certainly not in Lansing, Michigan. So my best friend and I set off on a road trip. Classic. We had maps and sleeping bags and a tent and a car, and we’d saved up enough money to be on the road for at least two months before we’d need to find a place to live and a job. It seemed like a good plan. My parents and sister waved goodbye from the driveway, and Aryn and I set off on our vision quest.
It was, not surprisingly, hard. Not romantic roll up your sleeves hard, but chilly, self-doubting, running out of money and what the fuck am I doing hard. We were lonely and lost (we had maps but our inner compasses were spinning) and we quickly ran out of things to talk about. We had adventures, yes – but not the kind of adventures that lead to immediate self-knowledge. Or any knowledge at all, other than ‘driving through the Rocky Mountains during a whiteout is fucking terrifying,’ or ‘the entire state of New Mexico is haunted.’ I thought I would have dreams, grand dreams that would reveal my mission to me – but instead I kept dreaming about high school friends I’d lost touch with (dreams, by the way, that were trying to tell me something, just not what I was looking for – but that is a topic for another day).
We got to Portland after 2½ months, and stayed with my aunt and uncle in Yamhill for three weeks while we looked for jobs and an apartment (and thank god for them, because I don’t know what I would have done without their kindness & love). I got hired as a temp and spent the last of my money on work clothes (hiking boots and dirty jeans were not going to cut it) and an apartment in southeast Portland. Then we had to wait two months before we had enough money to buy lamps and furniture. It was December, dark and rainy. We didn’t know anyone in Portland and we couldn’t afford to go out and do anything so we would sit in our plain, carpeted apartment decorated with one Chinese medicine poster we’d bought at Saturday Market, drinking tea and listening to the radio. In the dark. Because we couldn't afford a lamp. During the day sometimes we’d go to a coffee shop and sit and listen to people and try to figure out how to meet them (because on top of everything else we were both introverts and very sensitive people).
For the first time in my life, I was totally on my own. And though I would do it over again, I don’t recommend it. It was terrible. I spent at least six months lonely and poor and cut off from the world and terrified. I flew home for Christmas and cried my eyes out. Then flew back to Portland and cried more.
Of course things did eventually get better. I met people. I got involved in some activities, slowly. I saved up money and figured out where I liked to hang out. After a year I had a wild instinct to move to Missoula, Montana and then a sober voice said – hm, and start this whole process over again? You’re just getting to like Portland. So I stayed. And now I’ve been here ten years.
When I meet other people who have just moved here, I am jealous of the ones who hit the ground running, who come with a game plan and some resources. And when I meet the ones like me I think, oh honey, why are you making it harder on yourself. But how could you know until you’ve done it? I wouldn’t listen to any advice when I was 22 anyway. And I’m not so different now – I still like to learn things the hard way, I still quietly and stubbornly believe in following my gut instinct even when everyone around me thinks it’s stupid. I guess you always look back and wish you could do things over with the knowledge you now have. As the great Rod Stewart says: I wish that I knew what I know now, when I was younger.
Did you know that song is called Ooh La La? I didn’t. Here, maybe it will cheer you up:
I didn’t know where I was going. I didn’t know if I would come back. I didn’t know what I wanted to do other than write and find people like me. I wanted to find my generation’s equivalent of Greenwich Village in the 30s. I wanted to find where things were going on, which was most certainly not in Lansing, Michigan. So my best friend and I set off on a road trip. Classic. We had maps and sleeping bags and a tent and a car, and we’d saved up enough money to be on the road for at least two months before we’d need to find a place to live and a job. It seemed like a good plan. My parents and sister waved goodbye from the driveway, and Aryn and I set off on our vision quest.
It was, not surprisingly, hard. Not romantic roll up your sleeves hard, but chilly, self-doubting, running out of money and what the fuck am I doing hard. We were lonely and lost (we had maps but our inner compasses were spinning) and we quickly ran out of things to talk about. We had adventures, yes – but not the kind of adventures that lead to immediate self-knowledge. Or any knowledge at all, other than ‘driving through the Rocky Mountains during a whiteout is fucking terrifying,’ or ‘the entire state of New Mexico is haunted.’ I thought I would have dreams, grand dreams that would reveal my mission to me – but instead I kept dreaming about high school friends I’d lost touch with (dreams, by the way, that were trying to tell me something, just not what I was looking for – but that is a topic for another day).
We got to Portland after 2½ months, and stayed with my aunt and uncle in Yamhill for three weeks while we looked for jobs and an apartment (and thank god for them, because I don’t know what I would have done without their kindness & love). I got hired as a temp and spent the last of my money on work clothes (hiking boots and dirty jeans were not going to cut it) and an apartment in southeast Portland. Then we had to wait two months before we had enough money to buy lamps and furniture. It was December, dark and rainy. We didn’t know anyone in Portland and we couldn’t afford to go out and do anything so we would sit in our plain, carpeted apartment decorated with one Chinese medicine poster we’d bought at Saturday Market, drinking tea and listening to the radio. In the dark. Because we couldn't afford a lamp. During the day sometimes we’d go to a coffee shop and sit and listen to people and try to figure out how to meet them (because on top of everything else we were both introverts and very sensitive people).
For the first time in my life, I was totally on my own. And though I would do it over again, I don’t recommend it. It was terrible. I spent at least six months lonely and poor and cut off from the world and terrified. I flew home for Christmas and cried my eyes out. Then flew back to Portland and cried more.
Of course things did eventually get better. I met people. I got involved in some activities, slowly. I saved up money and figured out where I liked to hang out. After a year I had a wild instinct to move to Missoula, Montana and then a sober voice said – hm, and start this whole process over again? You’re just getting to like Portland. So I stayed. And now I’ve been here ten years.
When I meet other people who have just moved here, I am jealous of the ones who hit the ground running, who come with a game plan and some resources. And when I meet the ones like me I think, oh honey, why are you making it harder on yourself. But how could you know until you’ve done it? I wouldn’t listen to any advice when I was 22 anyway. And I’m not so different now – I still like to learn things the hard way, I still quietly and stubbornly believe in following my gut instinct even when everyone around me thinks it’s stupid. I guess you always look back and wish you could do things over with the knowledge you now have. As the great Rod Stewart says: I wish that I knew what I know now, when I was younger.
Did you know that song is called Ooh La La? I didn’t. Here, maybe it will cheer you up:
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