Hmm. Well, yeah. By now we�ve had our break, by now we�re thinking of work, thinking of how we�d forgotten to call that fellow back a few weeks ago to attempt to negotiate a deal, thinking of how we�ve never had any guidance on how to do this sort of deal and wondering again why this job doesn�t ever get any better. If not, I suspect heading back to work/school still isn't ideal.

I'll just tell you I�m still working out issues from the weekend. If you�re looking for snarky remarks or tasty music or concert reviews, you�ll have to tune in later, when I try to explain to the youngsters just who Milli Vanilli is. Was. Your patience is appreciated.

Sigh.

Thanksgiving. I worked damned hard, and those stubborn Swedish women wore me out. Even as we plotted to keep them out of the kitchen and to force them to sit and rest and visit, they snuck back into the kitchen, they refused to be driven anywhere, and they refused to be polite about letting anyone do for them, ill health or no.

I�m beginning to suspect that most families aren�t actually like this, that most people share with their immediate family when they�re having surgery or when they�ve had a bad diagnosis at the doctor. There was elusions to cancer, Alzheimer�s, kidney transplants and seizures, just to name a few. Nobody really knows what�s true and what�s not, and things divulged come in the strictest of confidence and typically come with warnings not to discuss with anyone else. And it�s not only the old people, but also cousins of my own generation. So whilst I used bodily force to prevent Grandma from lingering in the kitchen even to supervise, I had to think of benign conversation topics suitable for the general audience, when a good number of us simply wanted to sneak off to the basement and trade secrets. We did a bit of that in the garage on the pretext of taking out trash, it wasn�t enough to figure things out.

In spite of it all, there were lovely moments: laughing with my aunt after outsmarting Grandma just once; a cousin saying something so insightful and sweet that I easily forgave his last offense; visiting my older sister�s ailing godfather; watching the tribute to Elvis, hosted by Chris Isaak, with my great aunt; hearing tales about the great uncle I scarcely remember as Auntie M. fixed me hot cocoa; taking my first bubble bath in a good 15 years; seeing ewenorker�s lovely and amazing GH; and just once feeling as though I�d pleased my grandmother.

I�m getting sappy. This is not the biting sarcasm and pointy wit I always intend to offer to the world.

In spite of it all, I�ve wanted more of people and less of me this weekend. Tams and I went to a movie last night, and as exhausted as I felt after the movie, I still went across the road to hang out with my neighbors/landlords and their kids/my pals/whatever-I�m-to-call-them when I got home. Today I had them all over for a post-Thanksgiving dinner. J. Lee was my excellent kitchen assistant, as I prepared the Butternut Squash with Sage Dressing, the mashed potatoes with vegetarian gravy, and the Roasted Red Pepper and Sweet Potato Soup (recipe kindly passed on by apothecary). We used the china, even the ancestral gravy boat, and the boys politely devoured the vegetarian feast with gusto.

I shall not mention the dinner table jokes the boys made that featured the dead kitty (whom I discovered by the roadside on a frigid Saturday morning walk--he was secretly my favorite barn kitty) and taxidermy. Or I shall think of it as a taste of reality.

When I�m frustrated about my lack of privacy and everything resulting from it, Jeremy and others remind me that they�re not actually my family, but if it seems so, it�s my own doing. The line between childhood friends/roommates /family has long since blurred, and in spite of the odd family history there, they make sense to me, they talk to me about family troubles, who�s disagreeing with whom, who is sick, etc. It does seem a bit like the Von Trapp family at times, but am I the only one to whom that sometimes appeals? Not the dressing in curtains and singing together parts, but the feeling of a devoted, close-knit family.

I don�t really know what to make of it all. I guess I�ll go put my apartment back in order. Though I cannot control my family, I can run the vacuum again, put the bicycle back up on the trainer in the dining room, put the chairs away, and put the clean sheets back on the bed. Anything to keep from stewing, so I guess that means another night on the couch.