Some people are like Slinkies. They’re really not good for anything, but they still bring a smile to your face when you push them down a flight of stairs.
But, that’s not why I’m writing today. I’m writing today because….well, frankly because I don’t really have anything better to do.
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My younger sister was in town this weekend. My mom drove her down on Friday night/ Saturday morning. The weekend was spent basking in sisterly fun, bad Lifetime movies, much junk food and all topped off with an excellent 4th of July. My sister is 16, and just a sweet kid. Still rabidly mormon, but feeling her way into autonomy. My mom spent the night, then left early the next day. (Sidebar: told my mom that Xtian is moving in. The conversation went a little like this:
Me: So, mom, I have some news.
Kat: Oh my gosh! Are you pregnant?!?
Mom: (stunned silence, huge eyes)
Me: NO! Xtian is just moving in.
Mom: Oh, well I haven’t approved of him yet. Will he have a job?
Me: yes
Mom: Are you happy?
Me: Yes
Mom: well, ok then.
Overall, I think it went well. She needs to spend more time with him, then she will get to see what a kind, gentle, strong, loving man he is. More on this later.)
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Kat and I spent Saturday napping and attending a family birthday party. Deeeee-lightful. Sunday was rather non-descript: saw Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants. I was warned by every woman I know to bring tissues. Even Sarah, who has little time for movie-inspired emotion told me she cried through 1/3 of the movie. Perhaps I am a tad cold hearted, but I didn’t find it that moving. Sure, I got a little misty at the end, but it really didn’t touch me. Maybe I just didn’t connect with the group of girl-friends who love and care about eachother all the time. I have a few female friends (Mel’s been my girl since we were 4, but we aren’t like that, and Sarah’s one of the few loves of my life, but again, not like that) but I never got to have that support group relationship those 4 shared. Most of my female relationships at the age of 16 were about keeping girls at arms-length, just friendly enough that they didn’t think you were a bitch, but not close enough for them to know you enough to really hurt you. Female relationships are seriously fucked up. But anyway, perhaps I’m just an unfeeling terrible person. Anything’s possible at this point.
For the Fourth, Kat and I went to Bolinas with Jen and her boyfriend Chris. It was nice for Kat and I, we didn’t have to learn any new names since our other sister is Jenn and our brother is Chris. Rather convenient. But I digress. We watched an excellent tug of war match across the lagoon, saw what must be the world’s shortest parade and ate a fabulous breakfast. Once Bolinas’ festivities were finished, we drove out to the barn, visited with Jack, Kat is in love with this horse as well. We watched some horse exhibitions, during which I was amused by the way Kat and Chris got along. They sat on a bench together and giggled through most of the show. More than a little adorable.
At this point, we determined we were hungry, made a beeline for In-N-Out where we were not serenaded, thank gawd. As though this were not enough to make it one of my favorite 4th of July’s ever, once we got back to Oakland, Kat decided we were going for a swim.
So, being me, I don’t have a bathing suit, and would never inflict my undressed body on the general public. Instead, I donned a pair of boxing shorts and a tank top and dove into the pool. Delicious. Aside from the creepy guy who walked out of his apartment, parked himself on the walkway above the pool and proceeded to watch us swim and giggle for about half an hour. Way skeezy.
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The Fireworks show was the greatest display we never saw! We spent the night getting hit on by inappropriately young (or old) men and trying to maneuver into positions to actually see the fireworks. Finally, we gave up and began to walk home, only to discover that 2.5 blocks away was a perfect view. So, at least we got to see the “grand finale.”
I was sad to see my sister leave, but glad for some sleep. That crazy girl has begun to slap in her sleep. Nothing like waking up to an open palmed smack on the back of your head.
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In Xtian news, the move-in is still on. Like everything in my life, I’m waiting for the wheels to come off of this. For him to suddenly wake up and realize “Damn, what the hell am I doing with this girl? I could do way better, and probably wouldn’t even have to move.” So far, this hasn’t happened. One day I’ll be confident. I swear. With this constant gnawing fear, every time I talk to Xtian and he hesitates for half a beat, I’m convinced that I’m about to receive an unceremonious dumping. So, when I talked to Xtian last night and heard him say “I need to tell you something. Promise not to freak out?” I, clearly, freaked out. I’m thinking this is it, he’s getting rid of me. I tell him to please tell me, but I reserve the right to freak out. He continues by saying “I went to the doctor today.” I have very different thoughts going through my head now: oh my god, he’s sick, he’s dying, those strippers his roommate had over, oh no, he did sleep with one of them now he’s got herpes or he’s got some nasty communicable disease and I’m dying too. Shit.” Meanwhile, he’s just breathing, trying to find his words. I’m FREAKED but remaining silent, outwardly calm.
“So, I went to the doctor, and I have Bell’s Palsy.” I’m so worked up, I can barely understand the words he’s saying. He continues talking explaining that it’s just a temporary paralysis on his left side, the doctor prescribed an artificial cortisone like drug etc. About three minutes later, I’ve regained my composure and ask a few questions. My cousin has Bell’s Palsy as well, so at least I’m somewhat familiar. The doctor thinks it was caused by his car accident a few months ago, which makes sense, and that it should reverse itself within a few months. I asked how he felt about it, I can’t imagine not being able to move half of my face. He said he feels fine, but the longer he talked, the more it became clear that he’s pretty freaked out by it. Immediately after telling me this, he says he has to go, and can he call me later.
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When he called later, he talked more about how he’s having trouble speaking, and pronouncing certain sounds. After he finished venting, for now at least, I asked him to never preface an announcement with “Promise not to freak out” unless it’s something over which I may actually freak out. I further explained every terrible thing that entered my head in those few seconds. If he is safe, healthy and still likes me, I am not going to freak out. He seemed to think I would not like him anymore, as though I’m only into looks, and if he’s not perfect I’ll leave him. Yeah. Check my former flames, I’m not into appearances. Like at all. So long as the chemistry is there, I’m in.
I forget that men are just as self-conscious as I am, and worry that they won’t be attractive or desirable anymore.
I almost slipped and used the L word. After telling him how the “telling my mom about the boyfriend moving in” thing went, I explained that he now needed to spend some time with my family so they would love him like….uh…everyone does. Yeah, I’m super smooth. It’s not like I don’t love him, but I’m not ready to tell him that yet. Although I apparently have no problem telling untold numbers of anonymous blog readers. I’m so fucked up sometimes.
Ok, I still have tons to talk about, but I’m going home, damn it. I’m tired, and bored. So, yeah. Peace out, man…..or something.
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