"It was tragic and delicious."

This week has been a bit insane for me. Why? Well, let's recap.

Monday night, after I got my last paycheck from the Discovery store, I went down to Cape Cod with my folks, saw Order of the Phoenix, and spent the night, because on Tuesday Ryter was coming down to join me, Mummy, Daddy, my great-aunt (the one who took me to the Revels), her significant other to whom she is not married, my grandfather, Shrewd, and Shrewd' s college friend Spaz, who I can actually call Spaz on here despite that ALSO being how I think of her in real life (she and my sister have the same name, Spaz is her nickname, etc) on account of it not being a REAL name. We were having our big annual lobstah feed.

It could have been worse. My great aunt didn't interrogate Ryter nearly as bad as I had expected, and he made a good impression on my family for showing up, staying all the way until dessert, generally being personable and, in the case of my father, turning down that second glass of champagne. My aunt has voiced her approval. Plus we got to build a sandcastle-- Ryter is quite the accomplished sand-castle constructionist. And we got to scare the crap out of the teenage boy who didn't realize the architect was on the beach and thought it would be funny to destroy the thing.

Boy: YARGH! [kick, kick, jump, swipe]
Ryter: [glowers]
Me: That's not very nice.
Boy: Oh, it's my castle, I made it.
Me: No, you didn't.
Boy: Yes I did!
Me: Uhm, no, he did. [points to Ryter]
Boy: [dawning horror and anticipation of a smack down, followed by frantic attempts to "fix it"]

It was pretty hilarious. Almost made up for the kid's assholery.

I think Ryter was expecting the park to be, like, overun with unwashed toddlers and hillbillies, so he was pleasantly surprised to find that it's not the sort of place trailer trash affords-- most people who go there are like my family, with enough money for a summer place but not enough for a full-sized cottage they can only visit for a few weeks and weekends. The problem was, what with it being a three and a half hour drive down from Durham, and his hamstrings acting up, it wasn't really a fun day for him-- I mean, he flatly stated that the only reason he was going was because it was important to me that he go.

I wish there was a way to make the experiences that are fun for me be fun for him, too. I like everything, anything he wants to do is usually fun for me, but the reverse is not so, and he's usually dealing with pain at the same time which makes things even more difficult. Basically thus far the only things I've suggested that he's been able to get enthusiastic about are making pizzas with weird toppings and going to the orchards in my hometown and stargazing (there's no ambient light, so the night sky is amazing on clear nights-- so amazing that last time we went we saw several shooting stars, clear as a bell). Most of my ideas he either tries and winds up disliking (the planetarium in Concord, for example), or KNOWS he won't like (hiking, or the Chatham band concert). Vivacia wants to go to Old Home Days in our town, and see the fireworks, and she suggested I invite him, but I don't think I'll have much success. Unfortunately, if Ryter doesn't come along it looks right now like it will wind up being Vivacia, her boyfriend Closer, me, and my former boyfriend Mack, and that would be awwwwwwkward. Well, for me anyway. And yet I can't picture Ryter wanting to go to an Old Home Days thing, even if we do spend a lot of the time hanging out on the swings at the elementary school and chatting.

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Then Wednesday I spent the WHOLE DAY cleaning my house. I even washed the kitchen window, the hardest one to clean because it basically involves squatting in the sink and leaning backwards out the window with a bottle of glass cleaner and a paper towel and no means of support. The house is basically clean. If Shrewd doesn't mess it up too much, it will be clean for my folks to come home to, which is what I was hoping for-- last weekend Mummy complained bitterly about coming home to a filthy house, and all I could think was, You didn't say you were coming home today!

I should have gone to the gym. But I didn't. I've been really bad about that lately.

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Then yesterday I drove back to the Cape on my own, so that I would have a car. I've never driven that route before. It's two and a half hours and it's very boring when you haven't got anyone to talk to, and you can't fall asleep. Plus it goes through Boston and is kind of a stressful drive in parts. I kept myself alert and focused by playing the street sign alphabet game in my head. Remember that game? You have to find all the letters of the alphabet in order by reading street signs... yeah. Then I got to Z and started again with license plates, that was MUCH harder.

I was planning on going to the Chatham band concert tonight, but it rained so that wouldn't have been fun. Instead I crocheted and then Mummy and I visited with my great-aunt, I shared some family gossip Bisobrina had told me that I probably shouldn't have, then we went to a glass museum for a while before Daddy joined us and we all went to the Lobster Hut for dinner. Then I drove back here.

I'm a bit bummed. I wanted to see the band concert. But I can go when The Brother is back, he'll want to go too. He's still in California with his drum corps, but if they win the next competition, they'll win the big World Championship thing for their division. My mom is REALLY EXCITED. He comes back Sunday.

Meanwhile, I will continue to clean the house. Next task-- windows. Daddy promised me $200 if I do all of them except the ones holding air conditioners.

But Yesterday Was Better

Happy Fourth, all.

Today was the day when I finally thrust Ryter headfirst into meeting the fambly. Extended family, that is, though he spent more time than ever before with my dad and he very very briefly met the Brother.

Every Fourth of July, my uncle, who was born on the first, has a big birthday/Independence Day party. It's like ideal for him because he's really into American history and especially the Revolutionary War. The birthday fact might have lead to the liking history fact, but who knows. Anyway, my uncle is an avid beachcomber/yard sale aficionado/junk collector and his house reflects that, much to the chagrin of my aunt (father's sister). But they have this big party and everyone comes, and we go every year and see the same people we see at the New Year's brunch. This year, my aunt said I could invite my boyfriend, more as a "Let's see who [Basiorana] is dating!" than a "Maybe she'd like to invite him!"

But the thing is, it worked out really well, because Ryter can't stay at a social function, especially with people he needs to censor himself around, for very long, and to be perfectly honest, as much as I like to see people, I really prefer to stay like three hours, max. When I'm there I say hi to people and talk to relatives if they talk to me, but I can only answer "So, how's school?" fifteen times before my head explodes. So it meant that we brought Shrewd down, we could leave her there to return with the 'rents and head back ourselves. And Ryter did very well, especially since it was like 25 people and I know maybe ten names. He talked with my aunt about schools (my aunt's a high school guidance counselor) and to my uncle about historical fiction and the other stuff he's writing, and to my mom about the Shadowrun game we're playing (yes, I'm playing a role-playing game with dice and everything, don't laugh, it's pretty cool) and role-playing, Dungeons and Dragons-type games in general. Then it got later, we got ready to leave, and there was an incident with a cookie that resulted in an emergency run down to the nearest Brooks (luckily, that wasn't very far) for some Benadryl. Nuts.

But he was okay, he just kind of felt crappy and his face got a little puffy. The swelling was down by the time we got back here. He promises he'll recover. I just feel really, really bad, mostly about the fact that it took so long for me to get out of there and head down to the Brooks with him-- but I really needed to say good-bye, at least to my grandfather, aunt and uncle, and my folks, who would have wondered where the heck I was.

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I had to abandon him here, though, to go pick up my brother, who just got back from a week-long tour with his drum corps. He's just back for one night. On the way back I learned that he was most looking forward to showering on his own, after a week of group showers, or at least tripling up with other guys.

Ew.

He's also so much darker than he was when he left that I swear he must have secretly changed races on me. And they gave him a name: [The Brother] Of-The-Pit. Also, With-The-Rubix-Cube. That's how they identify him: [his name] Of-The-Pit, With-The-Rubix-Cube. Shrewd says "The Pit" is his tribe. I'm not so sure.

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The Brother went to shower alone while Ryter and I hung out and then, once the rest of the family returned, set off half a metric assload of fireworks from a bucket of sand in the street. We didn't destroy anything and the lawn only started smoking once, but it was cool anyway. I love New Hampshire-- this was totally legal...

Plus we have leftovers to launch some other time, probably from a beach somewhere. That will be awesomeness.

We went out to the 99 with my parents and Shrewd afterwards, so my dad finally will stop saying how he doesn't know this strange boy I'm seeing.

My mom and Ryter talked a great deal of the time. My mom really likes Ryter; they have a ton in common with the sci-fi love and more importantly, he can articulate himself and isn't afraid of her just because she's my mom like the Brother's girlfriend seems to be most of the time. She thinks he's awesome.

My dad's final verdict? "He's moving so fast that he's got about five minutes left to live, and he'll get more done in those five minutes than most people ever get around to. He's very high-energy. But he seems like a nice enough guy, and he wins serious points for winning over your mom so completely." I think this was very, very comforting to Ryter-- Daddy tends to be intimidating, even if you don't know him.

But it went well, it all went well. He made an excellent impression. It was a pretty good day.

"No simulated brains! I want real brains." -Voyager

Today is the second day of the Quinquatrus Minores. It lasts three days total.

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So today was a royal pain in the ass.

I mean, I got to go eat sushi with Shrewd, which was cool, but also led to the whole problem...

So this morning, my mother woke me up by sticking her head into my room, because there's no privacy in this house, and informing me that the Brother had the car. I promptly fell back asleep, not really caring that much, since I expected I could get a ride from my sister when I went to the gym.

However, at about 11:30 The Brother returned home, having finished his finals. I talked to him a little, then he got a phone call, and informed me that he had to go volunteer at the elementary school or something. I said, "Do you need the car?"

"No," he replied, "I'm getting a ride."

"Okay, I was going to go to the gym later, that's why I asked. Sure you don't need it?"

"No, I'm good."

I went out to sushi, went to the gym, got back, and The Brother said, "Oh, you're home. I needed the car. Missed a Spartans parade."

"Oh, god, really? Man, I'm sorry. You should have said something."

"Nah, it's okay. I have more time to do my English project. I didn't really tell you to get back, s'not really your fault."

This all seems straightforward, right?

Then, Daddy gets home. He asks why the Brother isn't at Spartans. The Brother says he didn't have the car.

Daddy proceeds to yell at me for ten minutes. Did I point out that it wasn't my fault? Yes. Did I point out that there was absolutely no logic in blaming me for his failure to inform me that he needed the car when I asked him? Yes. Did it matter? Not a whit. Apparently I am, in fact, my brother's keeper and I am supposed to keep track of his schedule so he doesn't miss anything. Like I don't already answer the damn phone for him all the time.

Then Shrewd sided with Daddy, at least partially, and said that I should have known better than to think that I could get a straight answer out of anyone in this house. So basically it's all my fault because I assumed that "No I don't need the car" meant "No I don't need the car."

My father's selective hearing is on full-blast today. For example, the following conversation:

Daddy: [Shrewd], would you mind terribly if your mother and I went out to eat tonight?

Shrewd: Oh, sure, I mean, I have food here, but...

Daddy, to my mom on the phone: [Shrewd] wants us to eat dinner here.

Ryter suggested I dye my hair a funky color. I tried to explaining that I don't actually want more attention, just to not be yelled at for something I didn't do wrong. Grr...

Damn I hate paranoia.

Today is the Ludi Tarentini, a three-day celebration. It started out as a private celebration funded by a man whose children were ill. It consisted of three days of stage plays held every hundred years to honor Dis Pater/Hades and Proserpina/Persephone, the king and queen of the underworld. In 17 BCE, Augustus converted these days into the Ludi Saeculares, when all free men would pray and fast, then gather at the Temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus at the Capitolium (if they were Roman citizens) or the Temple of Diana on the Aventine (if they were Latins, which were the rustic types).

They offered the first fruit and various sacrifices on the first day, today, and the festivities would begin tomorrow evening.

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Went to Curves for the first time this summer today. I remembered everything well enough, and, bonus, it didn't require the amount of energy that it did last year to start so I haven't become totally sluggish after my year at college.

Tomorrow Shrewd and I are getting the bikes back from the shop and then I'm gonna try to bike to Curves, for some extra exercise.

Oh, and I ran into my old boss there-- the one from the day care. Apparently they need help for the summer. She asked me to consider coming back, but I'm torn-- on the one hand, I really want to see the kids again and if I can't get a better paying job it does pay more than TJ Maxx; but on the other hand, I had nightmares about the kids getting hurt or into trouble because of me the whole time I worked there. It was kinda stressful. And I kinda swore I wouldn't do childcare again. Not that I ever keep oaths like that, really...

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The Brother was inviting his girlfriend over for dinner, and while Mummy went out to get groceries and worked on a problem for work and The Brother did homework, guess who fulfilled the "Can't have non-immediate-family over without cleaning all parts of the house they might see" rule? Oh, yes. Me. I mean, she paid me $20 for it and I wanted to get this pigsty clean anyway, but it's the principle of the thing, in that if I had asked to have Ryter or even Vivacia (who has known my family for FOREVER) over, my mom would have made me clean the whole place or refused to let them visit. She wouldn't have paid Shrewd or The Brother to clean it for me, unless they offered.

Basically, until I get a job, my mom's gonna give me new chores every day to help out around the house, and as much as I like getting paid, cleaning this house is a bit like shoveling the sidewalk in the middle of a blizzard.

Oh, wait, she makes me do that too.

Random Dreamings

I had the strangest dream last night. My brother and I walked over to the neighbor's house, like we used to do when we were little. WE were the same age as now but everyone there was younger, like they were years ago before we stopped playing with them and their parents got divorced.

We rang the bell, but no one answered, yet the door was open, so I said, "I guess they're around back." This used to happen a lot when we were kids- they'd be playing out back and wouldn't hear the bell. So we walked out back, and I was confused- because they weren't there, yet there were signs of them everywhere. There was a plate of still-warm cookies on the table. I headed back to the front of the house, and my brother followed- but when I turned around, I noticed he had a cookie he was eating.

"What are you doing?" I cried. "You can't eat that, it's not yours!" He shrugged and then went back to ignoring me. Suddenly the mother of the family, a woman who doesn't even live there any more since the divorce, came tearing out of the house screeching at him. "You stole that! You've been stealing our stuff! EVery day I come home and something else is missing!" My brother took off like a shot across the lawn, headed for our house, and she turned to me, still yelling, though clearly she wasn't mad at me. "Your brother is a little twerp! He's been stealing our things and breaking into the house when we aren't there, and he let a rat out in the house--" Suddenly I had this very vivid (fictional) recollection of having had two pet rats who went missing. "Wait, what happened to the rat?" I asked. "Well, we got him," she replied (with the clear indication that that meant he was killed), and I exploded. Ignoring her, I took off after my brother, finding him in my front lawn. When he saw my face, he started to run, but I jumped on him, dragging him down. I was about to beat the crap out of him when I woke up.

This dream was really weird, because besides the inconsistencies with the neighboring family, my brother's entire history of theft was stealing a handful of brass buttons from a store- each of which was worth about two cents and, due to the size of his hands at the time, there were only about four of them. He was like, five. Plus I really can't imagine him letting an animal loose in someone else's house. Especially not now, he's sixteen and a good kid.And there's the fact that even if I could catch my brother running, there's no way he wouldn't just be able to win a fight in like, five seconds. It was completely bizarre. Very vivid, though. The cookie smelled freshly baked and the grass was wet with dew.

"Good day to make as much goulash as possible." ~Humorscope

It's the third and last day of the Paganalia, and today we're to offer spelt cakes and milk to Tellus/Gaia and Ceres/Demeter. On a much more interesting note, it's the second day of the Feast of Bacchus. Have some wine, celebrate! Tomorrow's your last day!

You know if you look up most of the more obscure Roman holidays, like the Agonalia Indigeti, this blog shows up as like the third resource on the list? Good thing I do actually look this shit up before I spout it.

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You know it's cold when:

-You can't breathe through your nose because the snot froze and it sticks the nostrils together.
-You pop in a piece of gum and have to hold it in your mouth until it thaws enough to chew... and it was just sitting on your windowsill all night.
-You don't want to open your mouth to breathe because it makes your gum start to get cold and hard.
-Crossing College Road to get to class calls to mind images of the Yukon.

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So I'm at home right now. We all got together to take the Brother to dinner and give him stuff, since it was his birthday last week and last weekend, when my sister and I were home anyway, he was post-tooth-removal and not in the mood for celebration. I saw the teeth. They look cool. You can see the line on one that marks where it had burst through the gum line... well, come on, this stuff is interesting to me!

I'm coming back to school tomorrow. The Brother liked the gloves and ear warmer I got him.

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Amishav, the writer of Chai Expectations, did a neat little list of what he needs from the woman he'll marry. It's pretty reasonable-- things like being Jewish (which is VERY reasonable if you're Jewish) and having the time for a relationship. I actually thought it might be a good idea for me to do one myself-- or rather, two; one for what I want, and one for what I expect. Since I'm very cynical. I wrote the easy one first-- what I expect. The other comes later, when I decide if I want to share it or not.

What I expect:

1. He will be male, have been male since birth, and always have identified himself as male. I'm pretty adamant on this one. I have nothing against transsexual people but I really REALLY don't want to be surprised by one.
2. He'll be attracted to me, in some way, even if it's just "oh, female, maybe I can get laid."
3. He won't use illegal drugs. If he drinks heavily, he won't do it around me and if he smokes, he also won't do it around me and he'll pop tic-tacs like candy.
4. He will be interested in something I like, even if it's just comic books or mocking bad movies.
5. He'll be able to understand me when I talk as long as I don't start discussing like, mythology or biological processes. As in, he'll have a decent enough vocabulary to understand me.
6. He won't hit me, unless I hit him first, and then he'll never hit me harder than I hit him. Relative to size, that is. If I'm dating a football player (yeah right) and I sock him hard in the stomach, he can't sock me back since chances are that'd leave a massive bruise. Even if he uses the same amount of force that I did.
7. He'll respect me enough to know when no needs to mean no.
8. I can't catch anything from him more serious than mono.
9. My one shallow requirement- he has to be at least 5'8". Any shorter than that and my self esteem starts to tank- not because of the guy, but because of the Amazonian feelings that I get.
10. He will not be suicidal and or into self-mutilation. A little depression or anger management issues I can deal with, but I refuse to handle a suicidal significant other.

Basically, I'm only barring people who are female or of indeterminable gender, potheads, sports fanatics, kids who play World of Warcraft all day, abusive types, rapists, the STD infected, the suicidal, cutters and short people. Hmm. I've only ever had three guys, my entire life, express the slightest interest in me... Maybe I should shorten the list.*


*That was a joke, kids. There's truth in it, but it's still a joke.

A-Shopping We Will Go

My mother's crazy schedule as of late lead her to ask my father to handle much of the year's gift-buying. My father promptly asked his go-to girl on the subject of Buying Stuff- me.

So today, instead of cleaning the house as I originally intended, I helped my dad buy Christmas gifts- including, I might add, my own stocking stuffers. My mother was rather displeased when she discovered this, but hey, it's her fault for asking Daddy to do anything.

Luckily I also got much of my own shopping out of the way.

I also cleaned the kitchen (mostly) and the kids' bathroom, the two dirtiest rooms in the house. They're already messy again, after my absence for four hours. I'm rather displeased.

IN other news, The Brother has come up with a Christmas gift idea for his girlfriend and it's the cutest thing in the world. It appears that all those years of telling the kid about romance and wooing girls and all the jazz actually sunk in. We've made him into a geeky Casanova.

I feel like I should cackle maniacally right now.

Anyway, I'm wondering just one thing: If we managed to basically guarantee that The Brother could get and keep any girl he chooses, why the heck couldn't we have arranged for, say, Shrewd and I to be equally adept at amazing the gentlemen?

Oh yeah. Because Mummy, Shrewd, and I actually know what girls want, and Daddy can back us up on it. Whereas anyone in this family who thinks they understand men keeps it to themselves.

In other words, we're the opposite of the norm: most people know all there is to know about the minds of men and nothing about women. We seem to have the reverse condition...