The Aerie
It's been a busy pair of days around here.
Yesterday was my Aunt Kathryn's 80th birthday. Aunt Kathryn is like a restored-classic version of my mother: ten years older, but not nearly as careworn. A former nun and a longtime Oncology administrator, Aunt Katy never raised kids and never smoked, so she's got a kind of polished arrogance that only comes when the line between oneself and God has gotten a little gray.
So we got to sit through an entire Catholic mass. The kids were great, nary a peep out of them, showing just how old even our youngest is getting. I didn't expect it, but Catholic Mass has changed some since I Saw The Light and was Saved by the Grace of UU Atheism. It was odd hearing the blessing for "Pope Benedict the Sixteenth" rather than "John Paul the Second." (And what exactly is the point of asking blessings on the Pope? Isn't that like praying that the Saudi's get some oil?) The weirdest change is that during the Our Father, everybody raised their arms as if holding invisible tanning reflectors.
What's up with that? Are we trying to ensure that God gets Good Reception on his Prayer Antenna? Isn't amplifying the volume of one's own prayers that way a little pushy? I mean, some poor bastard is drowning in Venezuela and calling on God to save him, and here are all these stupid Americans saying the Our Father and this guys prayers are drowned out like a walkie-talkie next to the KSTP TV antenna.
His last thought, "Typical Americans."
After the interminable church service, we headed over to Jax restaurant for dinner. We've eaten there in the past - pretty much once every ten years on Aunt Katy's birthday as a matter of fact - and it never gets any better, or any cheaper. I made the mistake of ordering the Prime Rib, which was uncharacteristic of me but I was seduced by the thought of the horseradish sauce. A staggering and expensive disappointment: the tough, grisly meat cooled rapidly in its pool of watery juices; the horseradish sauce had all the kick of an old nag sprawled in the back Forty waiting for the press of the barrel to her head; and the baked potato was served without butter. Really, I don't know what I was thinking ordering that.
The meal was enlivened, however, by my wife and my cousin's husband. Early on in the meal my Aunt Mary, Katy's sister, realized to her dismay that she was seated next to ME. Ever since we converted to Unitarianism my family has been personas-non-gratas in my aunt's family in the first place. You just don't DO that in my mother's family. Then I compounded my sin by finding my birthmother - an act which most of the family apparently interpreted as one of staggering disloyalty.
Mind you, I don't have this on any direct information - it's not like my mother's family to work in any but the most passive-aggressive manner - but their behavior has not been subtle over the years and I get the message.
So Aunt Mary very quickly swapped places with Nick, my cousin's husband. A nice enough fellow, but apparently incapable of eating without his elbow directly out from his shoulder. Meanwhile my wife had positioned herself at some odd angle, so her left knee was pressing into my right thigh just above the Painmatic Nerve so beloved of Gitmo torturers.
I sawed away at my gristly prime rib bent into a kind of Z, leaning away from Nick's elbow in my face, and scooched away from the Knee of Pain. And for this privilege, as well as the dining pleasure of my family, I paid a sum sufficient to fuel the family van for two weeks.
I was exasperated enough by the end of the meal to not care about familial approbation. I made my apologies and we departed prior to the next step in the Endless Birthday, going to my cousin's house to Open Presents. There was only so much I could take.
When we arrived home I went upstairs to change, finding my wife typing on her computer. "Going to bed?" asked, as I peeled out of my sweat-soaked church-clothes. I hadn't actually considered doing so, but once she mentioned it I realized that it wasn't a bad idea. Rolled over, and with a little difficulty managed to fall asleep, thinking maybe I'd catch up after several late nights.
Woke up at midnight... and couldn't get back to sleep. 2:30 a.m. I finally dozed off again. So much for catching up on sleep: I coulda stayed up til 11:30.
Posted by Albatross at July 10, 2005 8:55 PM