Musings of a Wench

Listen

Listen. This is not promising to be a good Christmas. Don't tell any one. Well, at least John's family. I figure posting on the internet is safe because are not people who use my beloved internet. Cathy books their vacations, Vince looks up hockey score and Christine uses email.

I guess I could explain who all these people are, what with the Holidailies and all.

Hi, I'm Morgan. I'm 24 and live in Canada. I have a delightfully useless BA in International Relations and now work as an admin in the executive office of a giant oil company that you've heard of if you live in Canada. I don't talk about work. I live in a ridiculously large house with my engineer boyfriend, who is almost perfect except that he comes with family. He is funny and rude and kind and absolutely filthy minded and me makes me laugh all the time. However. His family? Gives me stomach aches and makes me drink. Some of them actively hate me. Some manage to act like I don't exist. Two of them won't fucking break bread with me at Christmas.

What else? I have read more than 200 books this year. Big books, little books, kids books, non fiction books... This year I am partial to contemporary fiction, memoirs, classic children's fantasy and fluffy chick lit. I also read cookbooks, but I don't count those. I love to cook, and thankfully I'm pretty good. I do yoga because I love it, and I do fitness classes on my lunch break through my company's social club because it's good for me. Currently that means pilates, pilates on the ball and fitness on the ball classes. That will change in January. For all this, my love of food balances off my frequent exercising.

I have kept an online journal since 1999, and I no longer link to the old stuff because dear god, the stuff I wrote in first year university is embarrassing. I like to think I have substantially grown up since then.

John and I have a busy parental filled social schedule, but when we go get to be home together, we work on the house (required - it's a late 60s house decorated by a woman who loved flowers and the colour pink), play lots of board games (I like the Yuppy Game) and are totally addicted to Civilization III. We go out with friends. We watch movies. Life is good, and it is full.

And with his family? Way too full. His mother, who lives a 5 minute drive from us, who we saw twice last week for the full evenings, CRIED on the phone when he said we couldn't see her this week because every night already had commitments. (True.) She fucking cried because we would be going maybe 9 whole DAYS without seeing her. I so wish I was kidding. And it's not like we are the only people in her world. John's parents are together. His sister Christine still lives in the house and her boyfriend Will lives in the basement. Cathy's mother (Nice Grandma/English Grandma) lives another 5 minutes up the same road. But no, when she doesn't get to see John for a week, she loses it. It's creepy. Really, really creepy. Hell, the week around (Canadian) Thanksgiving? We saw them 8 times in 9 days. I was ready to drink myself into a coma. Don't think I'm not serious.

The problem with these people, above the fact that they are weird and lonely and don't have friends and still trash talk me, is that they are boring. Nothing every changes, from one week to the next. Cathy (with her B.Sc. in applied math and minor in pure math) works in the Safeway deli and has for 21 years. Vince works downtown doing something IT. They don't go out, they don't have friend, they don't talk about work much, they don't watch tv... Nothing changes from one week to the next. We often end up playing ping pong because there is nothing else to do. Or we just kind of sit around looking at the walls. It's boring.

My family loves to talk, and both my parents are self employed, so always have stories about various clients. The only quiet time there is when we get wrapped up in a game of canasta or crib or rummicube. I like them better. They also don't try to make me feel guilty for, well, almost anything. We get along really well. They also think John's family are insane.

I haven't even started about the Polish side of the family who hate me. They are some work. The problem, you see, is that I am almost half German, a little bit French, and half WASP. My mom's family have been in Canada since 1871 - we have the old bible's family tree to prove it. We call ourselves Canadians, because duh, we are. My dad immigrated as a child, so did Vince. However, my dad's family walked away from their language and culture and became Canadian. (German ex-soldier post WWII in small town Alberta? Not a good time to keep up the old ways.) Vince's parents after 40 years still don't speak English very well.

posted by Morgan @ 10:00 a.m.