The Visible Woman...January 14, 2004

Depending on who we are, we spend more or less time with our own flesh and blood.

A lot of it depends on how many blood relatives you have and how close you are to them, physically and emotionally. And the emotional part is a strange thing. We are adopted into families, too. As in-laws, adopted children or just friends so close to someone that the lines fade. That's community, I guess, more than family, but it feels different.

Inevitably, when I spend time with family our discussion ranges from the distant past to the future in lurches and swings. My father-in-law is 93. He may be worried about the food in front of him and where he put his cane one minute and something that happened years and years ago another. FFP and I are used to being their caretakers now when we go out, driving them, helping them in and out of cars, helping them choose food. My aunt's husband who has been in the family for thirty-seven years is traditionally catered to and in the evening we will choose a dining spot to satisfy his desire for raw oysters. Catering to him is a joke that works well and a joke in which everyone knows their lines.

Sometimes in these gatherings there are comments about the nature or nuture of things. "You just moved your head like your father," my mother-in-law says. My aunt recounts how everyone saw similarities between she and a cousin of mine and myself. That in spite of being away in the Navy she was blamed for the tom boy, rebellious behavior of my cousin and I. I actually see what people were talking about. When one of my cousins was killed in an automobile accident and everyone came together for the services, someone shot a picture of her in her uniform and me in a black dress and my younger cousin. I'm sure that we were singled out because of this family genetic myth. We all look appropriately sad and uncomfortable in our skirts. My younger cousin is gone now, dead of breast cancer in 2000.

There is much family history covered, over and over. Special occasions and funny events. The sad ones we don't say much about except for peripheral acknowledgment. Mom's passing is still fresh and we mention it more while still surrounded with a lot of reminders of her.

Everything is relative, I guess, especially when it comes to your kin.

	it's all relative Depending on who we are, we spend more or less time with our own flesh and blood. A lot of it depends on how many blood relatives you have and how close you are to them, physically and emotionally. And the emotional part is a strange thing. We are adopted into families, too. As in-laws, adopted children or just friends so close to someone that the lines fade. That's community, I guess, more than family, but it feels different. Inevitably, when I spend time with family our discussion ranges from the distant past to the future in lurches and swings. My father-in-law is 93. He may be worried about the food in front of him and where he put his cane one minute and something that happened years and years ago another. FFP and I are used to being their caretakers now when we go out, driving them, helping them in and out of cars, helping them choose food. My aunt's husband who has been in the family for thirty-seven years is traditionally catered to and in the evening we will choose a dining spot to satisfy his desire for raw oysters. Catering to him is a joke that works well and a joke in which everyone knows their lines. Sometimes in these gatherings there are comments about the nature or nuture of things. "You just moved your head like your father," my mother-in-law says. My aunt recounts how everyone saw similarities between she and a cousin of mine and myself. That in spite of being away in the Navy she was blamed for the tom boy, rebellious behavior of my cousin and I. I actually see what people were talking about. When one of my cousins was killed in an automobile accident and everyone came together for the services, someone shot a picture of her in her uniform and me in a black dress and my younger cousin. I'm sure that we were singled out because of this family genetic myth. We all look appropriately sad and uncomfortable in our skirts. My younger cousin is gone now, dead of breast cancer in 2000. There is much family history covered, over and over. Special occasions and funny events. The sad ones we don't say much about except for peripheral acknowledgment. Mom's passing is still fresh and we mention it more while still surrounded with a lot of reminders of her. Everything is relative, I guess, especially when it comes to your kin.
my gray with white trim looks dull now...but just wait until it has a wood floor and furniture and accessories
JUST TYPING Sometimes you see genes and their work. Sometimes you see duty. Sometimes you see your future. Sometimes you see your past. It's all relative.
		Food Diary. *breakfast* 3/4 ounce package of Laughing Cow cheese (La Vache qui rit) lunch [Chez Zee] foccacia bread pizza with gorgonzola and chicken *snacks* Some Boursin cheese and about a dozen crackers. [This was a midnight snack from the wee hours of today and I don't know what I was thinking!] a couple of pieces of fruit pectin candy dinner [Eddie V's] two dozen raw oysters, four saltines and hot sauce with horseradish Shiner Bock Tuna Tartare salad with greens, endive, apples, candied pecans, dressing several spears of asparagus Jack Daniels and water Cambria Pinot Martha's Vineyard Today I - ate with abandon while entertaining my relatives.
Meta: Writing this on Friday which makes it a little hard to remember the day.		Time flies.... Things are chaotic at the house so I shower and dress at the club. I'm home before my relatives arrive. I show them around the destruction while the painters are doing their thing. My dad, my two aunts and an uncle and I go to Chez Zee and FFP picks up his parents and we occupy a table for eight amidst the noisy din of Chez Zee lunch. I had no idea it was that crowded. It is FFP's mom's 84th birthday. We give her a present (a new smooth edge can opener, a jar lifter and some dish towels) and my aunts have stopped and gotten birthday cards for her. We eat and try to talk. It's loud. I go back to Dad's with my relatives and we play the Spinners domino game and watch a little TV and talk and soon it's nearly five. I organize them to go to Eddie V's and we have a cocktail hour with my uncle and I polishing off oysters and my dad drinking beer with us and the gals looking on. Then my friend SuRu and FFP show up and we get a table for the meal. At home I fumble around doing who knows what and finally fall into bed having neither gotten my journal written or done anything else especially constructive.

		Reading. Newspapers. Dear General: Eisenhower's Wartime Letters to Marshall edited and annotated by Jospeh P. Hobbs. The Conquerers by Michael Beschloss...in bed.
		nothing
		Exercise One hour or recumbent bike.
	. .	I felt pretty good mentally and felt great physically today.
	It's a Tangled Web we weave...these days of our lives.	One year ago "My uncle is antsy to go out to eat. I gently try to dissuade him from Red Lobster but I'm not successful." Two years ago "The doctor wants to simply track it for a couple of years. And, if it doesn't grow, do nothing. Procedures are risky when you are eighty. I like this course. Mom is less sure. The gal at the next desk manages to confuse and obfuscate about labs, scans and appointments but we finally get it straight. Now I just have to convince my mother that she feels better and can put up with her aches and pains....FFP's dad says he probably has diverticulitis because he 'has everything else.' They think they may look up what it actually is."