Cheezy jokes from paunchy, washed-up Atlantic City comedians named Shecky aside, I adore my mother-in-law. She's smart, funny, sarcastic as all get-out, and more than a little bit of a trash-talker. I have heard her say fuck on many an occasion, which she darn well knows tarnishes her "nice Catholic girl" reputation more than smoking in the girl's bathroom during lunch hour. I have seen her really tipsy from one glass of wine, then poured her the second glass- at her request. She's pretty tough. She's ballsy.
She's fun to hang out with.
And she's got four equally loud, opinionated, charming-in-their-own-ways sisters.
Not these kind of sisters.
The familial kind.
This past weekend, she invited me to join her, my sister-in-law Maurey, the sisters and several nieces for a "ladies weekend" in a fairly chi-chi rental home here in town. Sounds like fun, but...
I had to cancel a few things first, as I keep a pretty busy social calendar:
- Friday night dinner with Clive (we try to keep it quiet, so shhh... I just hate all that paparazzi attention- our love is a special and quiet thing)
-my awards luncheon celebrating my extensive work with erectile dysfunction rehabilitation on Saturday
- my solo with the church choir's rendition of "Proud Mary" on Sunday
Loose ends tied up- Off to the estrogen escapade weekend!
Friday night we just hung out, ate cake for Aunt M.J's birthday (the fabulous, calorie-free chocolate mousse torte pictured here & whipped up by yours truly), drank wine, talked family & politics, and of course discussed things like ovaries, periods, electrolysis and why we eat delicious things that make us hate ourselves. Pretty standard fare.
Saturday morning I couldn't sleep in as my head was a little fuzzy from the wine and opium-smoking (it's always the ones you least suspect, you know) of the night before, so of course I woke up at the crack of dawn- something I have voluntarily done approximately three times in my lifetime. Somehow I managed to wake up even before five women that don't think it's unusual to go to bed at 8:00, even if the sun is still up. Angered at the vengeful gods of sleep and aware that I should try to "experience" the "beauty" surrounding this lakeside home, I went for a long walk. I saw and heard loons, woodpeckers (tee-hee...pecker), watched a big fish swimming around in the frigid water, listened to the geese circling the lake and marveled...
and then was once again pissed that I slept all of maybe 2 hours. Nature, schmature.
The rest of the day was eating, talking, shopping, drinking & all the other things us womenfolk do when given a basically testosterone-free weekend. I'm kind of surprised I didn't hear any burping and farting. Cause' that's what we do when you're not around, boys.
Burp. Fart. Scratch our balls, and so on...
The highlight of the day was when all five sisters got into a pretty heated argument, the details of which are not important. There were raised voices, people walking off in a huff, maybe a few tears, and then...
everything was fine, and we ate dinner.
Just like that.
My family, we hold a grudge for weeks, months, YEARS if necessary.
Criticize MY choice to quit my job and join a brothel, will you? Fine, but don't expect to hear from me for a while, you judgmental judger...you.
These ladies, not so much.
Problem discussed? Check.
Feelings validated? Check.
Problem mostly solved? Check.
Hurt feelings soothed and healed? Check.
This behavior is foreign to me and therefore I am angered and scared by it. Crazy getting-along, rational, thinking, sensitive broads.
Time to eat!
You have great taste. Clive Owen is the yummiest man. That voice is like buttah. Rrrreow.
Rational and thoughtful? Yes, I can see how that kind of company could be infuriating. Hahaha. Sounds like a fun weekend anyway.
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