If you were here this evening, you’d be parked next to me on the sofa, and draped with a lovely homemade afghan. I’d offer you a choice of coffees, and you’d quickly realize that mine is much less premium than my husband’s. This would no doubt cause you to raise your eyebrows, because it’s obvious in like two seconds that my sweet husband is not the high maintenance partner in our relationship. Except when it comes to coffee.
Anyway, here are a few of the things I’d probably tell you over the rim of my cup while I was fantasizing about chocolate:
My mother-in-law was with us for a few days this past weekend. We brought her down on the 5th and took her back home Sunday afternoon immediately following Pokemon Go community day. We’d been trying to convince her to spend community day in our small town for the past couple months, and we finally succeeded–now, she swears she’ll be spending them with us henceforth, and perhaps bringing my sister (in-law) with her next time. But only if she’s feeling charitable. While she was here, I fed her vegan food that she seemed to find pretty darned tasty. Nevertheless, I don’t expect her to transition to our way of eating any time soon; she’s a lifelong, dead serious, ain’t-never-gonna-change meat and dairy eater. Honestly, I can’t imagine her any other way.
(You’ll note, please, that I wrote the entirety of that last paragraph without a hint of shame. WE ARE A FAMILY OF POKEMON GO PLAYERS, AND WE ARE NOT SORRY. But I’m not going to spend any time proselytizing about it, so don’t go running off.)
I’m also not going to spend any time preaching about our plant-based diet at the moment, so please stop the loud singing with your fingers in your ears. But while we’re side-stepping the subject…I should tell you that I’ve been a little frustrated with my mom since we started eating this way, and I know I really shouldn’t be. For my entire life, she has never been a vegetable eater, nor has she ever had any appreciation for ethnic food of any kind. She doesn’t do pizza or spaghetti, she can’t take the heat or general spicyness of Mexican, and aside from the honey chicken that passes for Asian fare at the local buffet, she’s not much for Chinese, Japanese, or Thai either. Nevertheless, I get upset by her reluctance to change her diet. I worry. I want my good mother to be around for just as long as her bad mother has been, and I have seen a lot of evidence that leads me to believe that if she’d just eat all the whole, plant-based food that she apparently hates, she could be in excellent health for a really long time to come.
But I don’t see that happening, so at present, I’m biting my tongue a lot. I try to think and feel the way I used to: that any diet which leads to weight loss must surely be better than what she’s doing now. Thing is, it’s really hard for me to feign stupidity. (Which may be why I can’t pass as a Trump supporter to save my life.) And it’s especially difficult on the subject of nutrition…I’ve done way too much research into this stuff in the past year. Hell, I’m even frustrated by several of the eating habits of my two vegetarian fathers-in-law.
Obviously, if you were here drinking coffee, you’d be spending a lot of time wondering how the heck a nice girl (or guy) like you ended up in a place like this. And I’m sorry, but I have no easy answer to that question.
I’ve been applying online for a lot of jobs lately. We bought a brand new car in the middle of June (it was both hubby’s and my first new vehicle ever), and quite honestly, I have no idea where the payments are going to come from. We financed the thing at an insane rate, and if it hadn’t been an absolute necessity, we wouldn’t have even considered doing it. Sometimes adulting sucks, especially when all you want to do is admire your beautiful new car without having to think about what it will be like living in the poorhouse after the first payment is made.
I’m driving my sister-in-law and niece to New York at the end of this month. My niece got invited to participate in a singing/acting/dancing workshop in Princeton, NJ, and at the end of the week, there will be a performance at some theater in New York. My sister asked me to go when she realized that she’d need some company for the week without her kid. “And besides,” she said, “we keep saying we’re going to take that epic road trip…” She’s right, we do. But at the moment, we’re both stressing about it. We’ll be away from home for nine nights, and the hotels are not cheap. Plus, we have no idea what we’re going to want to do in that part of the country or even how ungodly expensive the food is going to be.
Yikes, I need liquor in this coffee. Hey, where’d you go? Okay, well…bye.