auntbijou: (Voldie Santa)
*hugs internets very hard*

Oh, how I missed you yesterday!!! The city was doing some work on a road they're... pretty much constantly working on (see "Great Unfinished Works"), and they cut AT&T's lines and pretty much lost the internet for the whole damn town. That's the third time they've done that this month, the idiots.

*grumbles*

Hmmmm... Thanksgiving. Well, the food was good this time. This, of course, was because Mom pretty much did the cooking herself, with assistance from the Flaky Sister. Mom was sort of worn out and after some discreet questioning, I found it was because Mom would hop up and run to defend the food every time she saw the Flaky Sister with a salt shaker or a stick of butter in her hand. That's not easy when you're 83 and arthritic, but Mom's pretty spry and energetic when she has good cause!

It went well, and I had a lot of fun getting to know Second Oldest Niece's brand new husband (ooooo, shiny!!) and have come to the conclusion that when the Husbandly One gets over his stand-offish, how-dare-you-marry-my-niece thing, he and New Hubby will get along famously and be as thick as thieves. I foresee many epic pranks in the making!

Hmmm, I think from here on out, I shall call Second Oldest Niece "Coach Niece" (because she's a high school softball coach) and her husband shall be henceforth called... "Mr. Coach." Because... he's married to her, and... he's a coach. Yeah, yeah, I know, how original, but hey, it works!

ANYHOW, Thanksgiving went well, without the usual family drama that seems to be the norm, thanks to Oldest Niece whom we sometimes term Scary Niece for good reason. Well, during the main event, that is. She saved the drama for after mostly everyone had gone except for THO and I, and Coach Niece and her husband. I won't go into it except to say that fortunately, she is still scared of me and needs my good opinion (which she lost a long time ago, but we don't need to tell her that, do we?), so it only took my voicing my disapproval to put a stop to things.

After she and her family had fled from Auntie's fury gone home, THO and I had settled in to get ready for bed, since we were spending the night. However, being weather obsessed, I made the mistake of checking the weather report for home on my Blackberry, and ended up on Mom's computer, accessing the local Weatherbug and then checking the local weather report.

When we'd left for Mom's, Austin's weather forecast was for a low of 45 (7.2 C), so the Husbandly One hadn't bothered putting on the heater (the high for the day was in the eighties) since we'd be back the next day.

However...

The updated forecast predicted a low of 32 to 25 (0 to -3 C ), which meant we needed to worry about the cats and the water pipes. The cats, because even though they're indoors, the house does get cold when the heater isn't on, and the pipes, because our house is up off the ground on a pier and beam foundation. Pier and beam foundations are common in the South, because it's hot here eight to nine months of the year, and allowing air to circulate under the floor keeps the house cooler. However, this means during the winter, the floors can be freezing cold if not properly insulated, and if your pipes aren't protected/insulated, they'll freeze and burst. Most of the time, this isn't a problem if your heater is on!

What did this mean?

It meant we had to pack up everything and ... go back home. After 10 p.m.

*head-desk*

You'd think after living out here for 14 years, we'd have learned not to trust the weatherman, right? I mean, when we lived in the 21 House, we pretty much accepted that during the winter, it would be 10 degrees colder than whatever the predicted low was, and during the summer, it would be 5 to 10 degrees hotter. If they said mild to moderate thunderstorms, we'd get a tornado. I mean, you'd think I'd remember that, right? HA!

*makes a rude noise*

The Impossible Son was not happy with us at all, and almost inconsolable at having to leave. He was sooo looking forward to spending the night, and getting up to make breakfast for Grandma (we have decided, as a family, that the Flaky Sister is not allowed even remotely near the kitchen when we are visiting), and being able to talk to her and... *sigh* The Impertinent Daughter wasn't happy either, but she understood and made an effort not to make things harder for Grandma (or me), and we loaded ourselves in the minivan and headed home.

You know, a long drive becomes even longer when it's late at night and... you have no caffeine. I felt obligated to stay awake to help the Husbandly One stay awake (since he was driving) and as moral support. Don't know how supportive I was, because I kept nodding off and waking up abruptly when we'd hit a bump, or I'd dream there was an elephant in the road ahead that we were about to hit, or have tea with, or something like that. I wasn't very talkative but then, my dad had years of conditioning my sisters and me not to talk in the car, so... it's not unusual that I was quiet.

The kids made up for my lack for about the first hour, but soon, the road hypnotized them into a sleepy daze, and it seemed only THO had the iron will to stay awake, thank goodness!

What was odd to us was driving into town finally around 12:45 or so, and the THO rousing us from our stupor with, "Wow, would you look at that!"

So we did. It was the local WalMart, which isn't unusual in itself, but... the parking lot was packed all the way to the highway. I mean, every single parking space was taken, and it had overflowed into the parking lot next door. That store must have been positively crammed to bursting with people! In all the years that I have lived here, I have never seen the local WalMart parking lot that full. Ever.

It was all for Black Friday, which it technically was since it was after midnight.

But... WalMart??? Seriously??

Anyhow, we made it home, crashed face-first into our beds, and slept the sleep of the just. Or at least, the just-got-homes.

Oh, and by the way, we resigned from the soccer board. Finally. Yeah, it was a long time coming, but when one of our board members told me to make sure to get a USB drive and download all the meeting minutes into it, the Husbandly One realized that there was going to be a move to either get me removed as secretary, or him as president, because we're viewed by this one particular person as a "voting block," never mind that I don't always vote with THO because I don't always agree with him. Funny thing is, I never wanted to be secretary, and would have gladly given it up to whoever else wanted it but... there was nobody else to take it. Seems this person also wasn't too thrilled about me being secretary because I'm "too outspoken," and never had a problem shutting him down, or telling him he was wrong and how precisely he was wrong, or keeping him from veering board discussions too far off track.

Apparently, I'm not supposed to do that.

And one of the other board members attempted to start a flame war of emails, which THO doused very quickly, but that was it for him. He said, "How sad is it to get an email from a board member who berates everyone for being unprofessional, and then turns around and calls us all losers? How unprofessional is that?? You know what? I'm done with that." And that was that.

So, he sent out an email to the board saying we were resigning, effective immediately, which gets us out of having to go to the last board meeting of the year, and means we don't have to be there for board elections or any of that bally-hoo. Which makes me very happy, because this means I don't have to sit there and practically bludgeon everyone into agreeing on set dates for spring registration, and times, and settle Miss Eileen down when she starts getting all wound up because this is soooo different from how it was done before, and fussing about kids using the same jerseys from last season and will the numbers not be duplicated, and what about the sponsor names, and...

... I don't have to do that anymore? OH... wow, I feel so... light!!

Yes, I'm enjoying this far too much!

Okay, I've rambled on long enough. Time for me to go wash some dishes, yo!
auntbijou: made by <lj comm=lvlwings_icons> (Delicious Hot Schmoes!)
So there I am, supervising the Impossible Son as he cuts butter into flour and salt to make pie crusts when the dulcet tones of Toploader crooning, "Dancing in the Moonlight" alerts me to the fact that someone is calling me. I look at the Caller ID, see my mother's name, and immediately think, "Uh-oh, the Flaky Sister is calling."

Yeah, I know, that's not a normal conclusion to jump to, but see when my mom calls me, she calls me from her landline hone to my landline phone, because that's just the number she's used to, and knows she'll get me eventually.

The Flaky Sister, however, when she calls me, she wants me to answer, dammit! And she knows I always have the mobile on me, so... she calls me from the landline phone she shares with Mom to my mobile. Because she knows I'll always answer (unless I'm at the doctor or in a movie theater).

So, I answer cautiously because lately, when the Flaky Sister calls, it's because something is wrong.

I say, "Hello."

"You and the Blonde Sister are coming here the day before Christmas, and you're staying the day after Christmas, because I. Am not. Doing this. Again. Ever."

Ooookaaaaay...

Apparently, Mom was criticizing her cooking.

*pause to die laughing*

As some of you will remember from past Thanksgiving debacles, the Flaky Sister isn't exactly... the best of cooks. Ouch, I think I just strained a muscle saying that.

She thinks she can cook, but... gods, there just is not enough antacid on the planet, I swear!

Mom wants to be sure the meal is edible so... she's... trying to head Flaky off at the pass, so to speak, but... well, Mom and Flaky get along about as well as oil and water, you know? So, I said mildly, "Mom's micro-managing your cooking?"

"Gaaaaah!" the Flaky Sister said, then she asked in stern tones, "Do you know how to salt and pepper a turkey?" and I had a moment of utter panic, thinking OMG, is she dumping Thanksgiving in MY lap at the last minute, WTF???

Instead, I said mildly, "Yes, I do. Who do you think helped Mom with the turkey after you and Blondie got married?"

The Flaky Sister said, "Yeah, well... so do I! But does Mother think I can salt and pepper a turkey?"

I refrained from saying, "Well, she knows you can salt and pepper a turkey, it's probably the amount of salt, plus the stick of butter you're trying to add that has her concerned..." because, well, I don't know she was trying to add a stick of butter...

Instead, I said, "She probably misses being able to do the turkey herself."

Not the most diplomatic thing I could have said, but... there you are. I won't go into the rest of the conversation, which was short, but... I ended up promising that we would arrive earlier than usual, to help out. And you should be very proud of me, I didn't do anything more than wince when she told me she was making stringbeans with parsley, thyme, oregano, bacon, and oh, I hope, I so hope I misunderstood her, but... possibly basil or was it something that makes me think of lemons... oh, I dunno, but... it was not something that is normally added to stringbeans, and knowing the ingrained habits of my family... no one is going to want to eat it.

I called the Blonde Sister after I'd gotten the pie in the oven, just to find out what the HELL was going on. After asking if she had received a grumpy call from a very cranky sister, I said, "Remind me again, why did we decide the Flaky Sister would be handling Thanksgiving and Christmas?"

"Because she has a bigger house?" The Blonde Sister said cautiously. Then she laughed and said, "Guess I'd better take Christmas after all, huh?"

"Please! I mean, seriously, at least one of our holiday meals should be edible!"

She died laughing and said, "The Brotherly One said the EXACT SAME THING!!!"

I knew there was a reason I liked him so much!!

We chatted a while longer, laughing and venting a bit and shaking our heads over our sister. I didn't know until tonight that the Blonde Sister had no idea that the Flaky Sister thinks of herself as the "Good Daughter."

"What, is she trying to say that you and I are the BAD ones here?" the Blonde Sister asked with an amused snort.

"Well, I'm the Black Sheep, I don't know what the heck you're supposed to be," I replied.

"You're not a black sheep," she said, laughing, "We're both black sheep!"

"Own it, Sister!" was about the only thing I could say at that point.

Funny thing is, I only just realized lately how little my sisters have really talked with our mom. Well... let me rephrase that. How little my sisters have listened to our mom. Both of my sisters have complained over and over about how Mom refuses to open the curtains in the living room. Or raise the blinds over the kitchen sink. I pointed out that both sets of windows are on the side of the house, facing into the side yard which looks like an alley. And Mom has issues with that.

The Blonde Sister had no idea what I was talking about, so I had to explain yet again about when Mom and her family lived in downtown Houston next to an Italian restaurant called "Delmonico's." And that there was no restroom in the restaurant (it was 1930's Houston, what can I say?), so male patrons would go into the alley between Delmonico's and the house Mom was living in to relieve themselves, and because they didn't want to piss against the wall of the restaurant, they'd face the house.

They had no air conditioning, so the windows in Mom's family's house were always open, night and day, and so when Mom would go into her bedroom, it wasn't unusual to see two or three men's heads right at the window sill, peering in while they relieved themselves. And sometimes, they'd try to talk to Mom and her brothers, and it always, always freaked her out (can't blame her at all, either).

The Blonde Sister had no idea. "Mom wasn't like that about our house!" she said in surprise.

"Yes, she was," I said calmly. "That's why Daddy planted rose bushes by all the side windows of the house. It was the only way he could get her to open those windows. The rose bushes made her feel safe."

"How do you know all this?" the Blonde Sister demanded.

"I asked her!" I said, exasperated. "Good grief, Blondie, Mom has all these great stories, and you'll never hear them if you don't ask her about them. Try asking her what Houston was like when she was a little girl. Or ask her about how Aunt Dee Dee handled ice deliveries. Ask how Aunt Dee Dee kept the mockingbirds and blue jays from picking the paper caps off the milk bottles when they were delivered in the mornings! Or about how her brothers embarrassed her by putting boobs on the snowman she built."

Sometimes, my sisters annoy the heck out of me. Whenever Mom gets onto one of her fussing jags, all you have to do to distract her and get her onto another groove is ask about her childhood, or about the war years, or the summers she spent on the family farm in Louisiana, or how she managed to date our Marine dad despite three extremely over-protective Navy brothers who had no love for Jar-heads.

Well, the cookies are baked, the pies are done, the tarts turned out fine... and I am ready for bed.

And I promise not to kill the Flaky Sister. I don't look very good in orange, anyway.

Happy Thanksgiving to you all!

May 2020

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