I have been in a funk since we left Disneyland, a kind of whiny woe-is-me blah, and this sadness was made even worse by meeting the multitude of Mike’s family. Living in Seattle is lovely and I am very grateful for the career and home we have made here, but G-D people, I am so far from everyone else.
My in-laws, all forty of them, were very sweet to Nathan. The younger children liked to pick up his 35-lb body and schlep him a few feet, like he was a giant tire in the Strongest Man Competition.
When we were at the St. Louis Zoo during a heat index of a million degrees, my brother-in-law Matt used my straw hat to fan Nathan and poured water on his head and feet while he slept in his stroller.
My sister-in-law rocked Nathan to sleep while Mike and I were out to dinner with some of my other in-laws.
I have decided that I will try to save up as much money for plane tickets to Saipan ($1,500 for ONE roundtrip ticket) and St. Louis ($1,700 for THREE roundtrip tickets) I want Nathan to see his family more often, to know that he has so much love around him and that he is very very lucky.
The interview went well. Well, not stellar. Not phenomenal. I was interviewed by some co-workers and my boss, which is awkward. I did not leave the room pumping my fists in the air or doing my Babe Ruth impression, in which I point to sky, swing an imaginary bat and run around the bases (and if I’m performing this act at home, home plate is usually the fridge.) I’ll hear in the next week or so if I am called in for a second interview. None of this will be necessary, however, if Plan B: Win Mega Millions comes to fruition.
So I gave in and started reading Stephenie Meyer’s Twilight series. I read Twilight in less than four days and New Moon in one day. I’m about two hundred pages deep into Eclipse. I have always been a fast reader, even if the books are not five pages long and detail how Thomas the Train and Percy saved the day and transported all the people to the royal parade because James was too busy sleeping. Granted, there were parts of the Twilight saga that made me roll my eyes like how perfect and smart and self-aware Bella is save for her only flaw: clumsiness (The hell!?!?). I was not nearly as neat and organized as Bella was at 17. I had so many books on my bed I had to sleep on the floor. And no vampires wanted to love me. Also, why do they have to make Jacob Black so aggressive? Why make my Native American brother so stereotypically scary to the white man, or the alabaster flesh man?
Mike doesn’t understand why I love vampires so much because I have a lot going against me, like how I am 25, not 15 and I am too old to be on the cast of the Real World. Also, I cannot pull off phrases like, “O-M-G!” and “Like, you know? Random! Totally!”
These books bring me back to a time when I was 15 and loved vampire stories and everything in the “horror” category and even the “erotic horror” genre, which should have been called “scary porn.” I had amassed a broad Poppy Z. Brite collection along with whatever Amazon recommended. The Twilight Saga, with all these faults and anti-feminist threads, has drawn me in so tightly that Mike is tired of hearing how I just want a vampire to fall in love with me. I mean, Edward is over 100 years old. I’m into older men!
Yesterday, Mike didn’t think I was listening and said something about my zombie ass to which I yelled, “That’s not nice!”
He quickly apologized and I retorted, “Well say something a vampire would say, then.” He walked over to me, pressed his lips to my ear and said, “I love you too much to turn you into a vampire.”