It's over. Mr. Blyleaf's parents have finally vacated the premises. They linger, those two. I don't get it. Can I get you any coffee? means absolutely nothing to them.
The brother didn't come. Neither did the "fiance." I'm not saying I'm happy about that. But I wouldn't put it on my list of Top Ten Disappointments of My Lifetime.
While they were here, I mostly hung out in the kitchen which was just the greatest. I was getting credit for having them over and I didn't even really have to talk to them too much. I'll tell you what, if I thought there was a chance in hell I could get them out of this house in a reasonable amount of time, I'd definitely be hosting Christmas this year.
Mr. Blyleaf thought I took it a step too far when I sat at the kitchen table and read the paper while everyone else was in the living room. But I had to. They wouldn't leave. And let's face it, if we had been at their house, The Father would have done the same thing. Only he would have read his paper in a recliner in the living room and fallen asleep in front of everyone. I didn't do that. Plus I needed to be by the radio because Sara Watkins was on Prairie Home Companion. Have you heard her cover of Different Drum? So amazing.
I think my menu was OK. The Mother commented on the creative genius of roasting potatoes and sausages together which I believe was a gigantic lie she came up with while searching for a compliment to give me. I appreciated the effort. Of course The Father didn't quite get that and promptly contradicted her, making a big deal of how they eat Chirico and potatoes all the time. It was awkward. Well, I've never had this kind of sausage and potatoes together. It was the best she could do.
I did have a small dilemma that I'm not sure I handled correctly. Mr. Blyleaf's parent's brought me a birthday gift. You can imagine how I felt about that. I mean, for one thing, it wasn't my birthday. And I don't acknowledge my birthday anyway as it's just a cruel reminder that I'm careening toward death without any significant accomplishments to my name. You can point out that I've done things like run my own business and given birth, but, let's face it, anyone can do that. Have you ever tried to adopt a Greyhound? Yeah, not so easy. But, whatever. The Mother's kind gestures tend to have more to do with how they make her feel then what the recipient would appreciate. So I thanked her and put the gift off to the side without opening it. That was probably bad, right? I'm not good with gifts. Even if you give me something I really like (and she didn't) I can't give you a genuine response with people standing around watching me. I can't do it. I'll drop a thank you note in the mail tomorrow.
Alright, so the nightmare is over. I'm back in hiding until approximately December 25thish.
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