The lost weekend

Since she hitched her wagon to my star, (to borrow a phrase from Tony Soprano,) AnnaRay has endured much and adapted admirably. She happily eats tofu, for example, and has learned to like black beans. Also, she will on occassion, after much verbal prompting on my part, tell me what she is thinking.

The big thing, though, has been her acclimation to the cacophonous freak show I like to call my family. Not that her side is freak-free - is anybody's really? But her people like to keep it quiet. So, while AR loves to visit my crazy family, after two days with them she needs to spend a couple of hours in a dark, quiet room.

I, on the other hand, have it easy. When her folks come to town, there is no fighting, no yelling, no crying, and only a small amount of cursing that is usually directed at the current administration. It's all very pleasant. Or so I thought.

This weekend, AR's mom came down from Washington with the Once And Future Stepfather, and AR's brother came up from California with his long-time lady friend. If you have been keeping up with this blog, you're aware of the ongoing drama among these players, and you might think this would make for an awkward visit. But it was lovely. Everyone got along fine. I found it completely exhausting.

It turns out that I have a low tolerance for facade maintenance, just as Anna can only take so much emotional exhibitionism. At some point, I noticed high ball glasses gathering around the sink and beer bottles piling up in the recycling bin, and I had a small epiphany. I finally understood the secret to getting through a weekend like this and sought my quiet room in the bottom of a coctail glass. I managed to maintain a low-flying buzz for most of Saturday, a feat I'd only attempted once or twice before during my heady college days. I found the numbness to be quite pleasant, though in the end, it was no less exhausting.

Come to think of it, what Tony actually said was "I told you not to hitch your wagon to my star."