Family Drama: Do I add to it?

I found the Xmas card & check from my biological-paternal-grandmother last night.
 

She got my new last name wrong and left out the "MaidenName-" and only listed me as my husband's last name.  I didn't stop being a member of my adoptive family when I got married, thank you very much. 

 
I'm sorely tempted to just mail it back to her with a note saying "You went to K's wedding, but couldn't bother to come to my wedding over some stupid cows.  Apparently, I'm not a real grandchild or member of this family. I'm not interested in having a relationship with someone who treats me like that."

But sending a letter like that would really hurt my Pops and probably cause a HUGE argument with other family members.  However, why didn't any of them stand up for me and tell their mother/grandmother that she was being really petty and that it's incredibly hurtful to snub a grandchild like that.  

She missed my first wedding in 2005, but it was back in Chicago and my grandfather was too ill to travel and she wouldn't travel without him - I think she made the right choice then.  But it also made it all the more important to me that she attend this one - it was local for her, and grandfather had passed several years ago.  (And gosh darnit, I travelled for his funeral right after having orthopedic surgery on my arm!  Stitches, bandages, vicodin and all!)

She's also my only living grandparent who acknowledges me.   My Mom's father died before I was born and her mom passed before I moved back to Texas.  I had no relationship with Dad's father, who died c. 1996, and his mother passed shortly after my Ex-Husband and I split (her last message to me, via Dad, was "Leah's going to be OK.", and gosh darnit, I won't prove her wrong!).  My biological mother parents refuse to meet me or even acknowledge me (F*** them!  I'm a neat person and I don't need them!).

So with that in mind, why on earth am I letting this even bother me?  To be honest, I don't know.  Maybe I miss my Granny R and I'm trying to find a replacement.  IG will never be Granny R.  They're vastly different people. 

I know, I know.  I should take this to a therapist.  Maybe when the new insurance kicks in.  Counting the days to April.

Definitely a hatchet moiderer...

Sherwood Forest Faire opening weekend 2012:  A Tale of Terror

I went camping this last weekend with Ed and 2 friends, Ally & Ross, for the opening weekend of the Sherwood Forest Faire.

 

It's Friday night and we're settled in, freezing our butts off from lack of fire because we don't have a raised fire pit and in-ground fires aren't allowed.  So we all go to bed fairly early (well, early for a festival).  At about 3am, a neighboring set of tents that set up some time after we went to bed starts yelling "Gimme a dollar!" sporadically.  This continues until about 7am.  Meanwhile, campers from those tents are wondering around the camp grounds, and several tripped over our tent, specifically the corner by our heads.  By now, Ed is thoroughly pissed off and ready to tackle someone.  Somehow (a miracle, I’m sure), I manage to get him to put away the 9mm and soothe him back to sleep, though the “Gimme a dollar!” crap continues.  Ally later said she was commenting to Ross that Ed must have been pissed and was surprised we didn’t hear her.  Ally also deduced from their conversation that they were probably underage, drinking, and high on shrooms and that the “Gimme a dollar!” yelling was a rudimentary mating call (that we later found out worked, much to our disappointment). 

We manage to sleep a wee bit before finally dragging ourselves out from our tent to get ready for opening day.  It’s about 9 or 10am, when someone shouts “Gimme a dollar!”  Ed snaps, grabs the hatchet, and storms over to the offending tents and starts yelling at the first face he sees.  (Meanwhile, Ross is a few steps behind Ed hoping he doesn’t have to get involved in a fight, and Ally and I are hiding in our campsite and I’m trying not to hyperventilate.)  To be honest, I don’t really recall exactly what was said, but I know that Ed yelled at them about all the yelling and tripping over our tent and that they were being giant assholes to all the neighboring campers. 

Later that afternoon (after we retired early from the faire, missing a show we really wanted to see, because we were all too friggin tired from lack of sleep), the camper Ed yelled at stopped by our site to apologize.  He said his name was Road Kill, they call themselves the Bum Camp (hence, “Gimme a dollar!”), this was their first Ren Faire, and they’d heard that faires were basically non-stop parties.  Ed had scared him half to death, and he was telling his camp mates about the incident (some didn’t believe him about the angry man with the hatchet) and encouraging them to keep the noise down.  Some had moved to another part of the campground already.  Ally talked to Road Kill some, explained camp site etiquette (basically, be good neighbors even if there are no set quiet hours and follow the tone of the camp ground – if everyone around you is quiet, it’s best to not yell and shout and trip over tents). 

For the rest of the weekend, Ed was known as “Angry Ax Man.”  At least Saturday night was quiet.

Ah, but all was not well in the Bum Camp!  Apparently, Road Kill was harshing on someone’s groove by trying to get them to be good neighbors and not get kicked out of the camp site.  He was nearly abandoned at the camp site with no way to get back to Houston, but managed to find a ride.  Two of him comrades, Tommy and Bat Man(?) were not so lucky and came to our campsite to 1) make nice and 2) beg for a ride. 

Though our car was full to bursting, we could have asked Ross & Ally to carry some of our gear in their truck to make room in our back seat.  But since Ed didn’t offer it up, I figured he was still pissed and was not interested being that generous.  Ross and Ally, being much more forgiving than Ed, let them ride in the back of their truck all the way from Paige (just east of Austin) back to Houston in the cold.  To their credit, Tommy and Bat Man helped break camp and change a flat on Ross’ truck. 

I can only hope that Tommy, Road Kill, and Bat Man take Ally’s suggestion to re-evaluate their friends.

Parental Professionalism

As my career advances (yay!), I now find myself essentially in the same "industry" as my father - politics.  After resigning from my year and half in Low-Income Housing, I worked for my local county's Democratic Party.  My Dad, a long time liberal and Democrat, was elated!  Finally, the progeny has stopped resisting her fate and has acquiesced to her birthright! 

Okay, so it's not like there were trumpeting cherubim and singing seraphim, but officially getting into politics was a BFD for my Dad. 

I accepted that position knowing that it was temporary.  I was Interim Office Head Honcho for the remainder of the (elected) Party Chair's term, and he resigned in December (planned).  Basically, I was office manager for the HQ office. 

Now, I am working for a long time friend and newly elected official.  Those of you who know me will know who that is, but since he's 1) elected, 2) a dear friend, and 3) my brother from another mother, I won't list his name or seat here in this blog.  So you won't see me dishing any dirt here.

The funniest thing about my new job is that Dad was here.  Dad worked for an elected official who was term limited (same level of gov't, different seat than my boss).  So on Dec 29th, Dad moved out of his office, and on Dec 30th, I moved into my office - same building, same floor, just a different spot.  Many of my new colleagues are Dad's old colleague.  So we are now colleagues.  Weird.  At least Dad was well liked and respected, and thanks to his good reputation, I essentially have some built-in allies and friends already.  He loves to call us up, give us "grief", and generally tease us.  He loves his new job (in the private sector, but still heavily involved in politics though he vows he's not going to do any campaign work this year), but I think he misses the hubbub of government. 

So it's good to be my Dad's daughter and his colleague.  Now, why did I spend so long resisting this????

Fagor Pressure Cooker, how I love thee. Let me count the ways

After watching copious amounts of "Good Eats," we got a 4 quart Fagor pressure cooker over the weekend. The inaugural dish was Beef Stroganoff. Holy cow that was amazing!!! I can't believe it took under 45 minutes from prep to plate! And it was TASTY too. I think "BS" will be a regular dish at Chez Nish in the future.

So now I'm scouring Food Network for more recipes as I know I will quickly exhaust the teeny tiny recipe book that came with the pot. One of the included recipes if Boef Bourgingon, which is definitely on my list of "musts."

Maybe I'll even don high heels and a pearl necklace and channel my inner Julia Child. Bon apetit!

New Job

I started a new job nearly 2 months ago. I'm in a MUCH better place here. My job at the HA was being eliminated slowly - first we're not going to be proactive with media anymore. Then the Annual Report for 09/10 was cancelled (per the new Head Dimwit, "I wasn't here, so why should we do it?" Um, because it shows continuity in projects and fiscal matters; because it honors the accomplishments of the staff; oh, and because we promised the Board we'd do one). Then my boss was let go (I think the Dimwit had it out for him from Day 1). And then I was taken off assisting the Non Profit. The writing was on the wall. Plus, I had serious ethical concerns about some major staffing changes. The new Dimwit though a bigger office on the 4th Floor would make me happy? HAHAHAHAHAH!

So now I'm at my local Democratic Party HQ, in a much tinier office, with part time volunteer support staff and I love it! I am learning something new every day (sometimes a whole lot of somethings). I'm challenged intellectually. I'm honing skills and talents. I'm learning new skills (like how to manage people).

Downsides? No benefits, so even though I'm making the same amount, COBRA's eating a large chunk (and I had to drop Ed from coverage). And I'm putting in a lot more hours. Oh, and I may only be here for a few months because the current chair isn't seeking re-election. So the new chair may not ask me to stay on (though the only person who's filed paperwork to be a chair gets along with me very well, but still). Oh, and it's really high stress.

BUT, this is excellent experience. This one of those jobs that can define the rest of my career. And I admit it, I get warm fuzzies that I'm making a meaningful contribution to a cause I feel deeply about.

Now, if I could just figure out a way to tell people "There is only 1 of me!!!!! I cannot do everything in 1 friggin day! If you want better articles in the newsletter, you take it on! If you want the website 100% up to date with more features and resources, you are welcome to have it! And no, I cannot make every single club meeting!!! That's MY time and I'd like to spend it with my husband!"

*sigh* Guess what, I'm hanging out at the office after hours for a clubs meeting.

Pepper? Really?

The fiance and I just spent 9.5 days hosting his mother for the Thanksgiving holiday. She's a lovely woman, but 9.5 days is a long time to host anyone in your home, and she's a very picky eater. I began dreading meal time. We defaulted to take out a few times, and it seemed like just about every meal was loaded with carbs. I love carbs. LOVE THEM! But they do not love me - especially my waist.

I had lost 30 pounds. I think I've gained back 5 in 9.5 days. =P UG. Guess it's time to start running after that Weight Watchers Bandwagon. I could use the extra exercise anyway.

Back to the pickiness. I made minute steaks one night. Simple, easy, nearly fool proof right? Wrong. Apparently, one half of the the dynamic duo of basic kitchen seasons, the Wonder Twins that are used in every savory offering is practically poison to my future Mother In Law - pepper. Like any good cook (I dare not call myself "chef" for fear than Anthony Bourdain reigns terror upon my lowly head), I seasoned the steaks with kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper. I seared the steaks on each side, watching for that perfect balance between tasty brown bits (a very technical term) and over doneness. As I sat down next to my FMIL, I noticed her fussing over her plate. She was PICKING OFF THE PEPPER!!!! "I hate pepper. I can't stand it. It's disgusting."

I was crushed. And then I almost immediately become resentful. She was a guest in my home refusing the hospitality I was offering her. I had already planned a lot of the big Thanksgiving Day meal around her preferences to make sure she could eat most of the dishes. And I was getting really tired of hearing "Oh I don't like _____." I wanted to yell "Have you even tried it? When was the last time you tried something new?"

She didn't try the green beans I made (with shallots, balsamic and roasted hazel nuts! Yum!).
Though I really wanted a pumpkin pie, my mother graciously made an apply pie since that's was FMIL preferred.
Her own son made a lovely gazpacho for a soup course - she made tacky comments as he prepared it "How can you eat that?! I can't believe you're putting cucumbers in there!"
When our chicken sandwiches from McD's got mixed up, she wrinkled her nose and said "Ew! Pickles!" and started pouting until I pointed out that our sandwiches had been mixed, and a simple swap would solve that (then she pouted that her sandwich was on a whole wheat bun - like whole grains would someone how damage her).

I felt like anything green and nutritious had been temporarily exiled from my kitchen and, by extension, my plate.

I'm really looking forward to a veggie fest this evening. I NEED GREEN!

It didn't help that it seemed that all she could talk about was her daughter. If she complaining about her, she was comparing me to her. It's no secret that I can't stand my fiance's sister. It's also no secret that she doesn't like me. Last night, as I was putting little dollops of whipped cream on my ice cream sammich with each bite, FMIL said "Oh! K does that too!", I really wanted to blurt out "Please don't compare me to her!!!"

But I remained silent and silently repeated in my head, "I love my MIL. I love my MIL. The visit is nearly over. Nearly over. Think of all the lovely veggies! Broccoli! Cauliflower! Squash! Butternut! Onions! Tofu! Edamame! Yum yum yum yum."

I need a vacation.

Time to resume the blog

Now that I can access my blog again, I will updating more often. I'm aiming for about once a week.

So if you've been checking, and checking, and checking since May have been diappointed that I've not posted anything - I'm sorry!!! But your wait is over.

Now I need to re-read what I've posted in the past to see if I need to post any updates.