The pork chops were a big hit. My nephew ate two and a half of them, which made me feel very accomplished. The dog had one and a half, which has made her have to sprawl out on the floor and snore loudly.
Among the chicken soup, enchilladas, and pork chops, I think the pork chops were the biggest hit. We have fixings for spaghetti, chili, and… ha, leftovers, to carry us through the weekend. And my dad has promised the nephew a night out at Ryan’s.
I had lunch with NM, who made her famous tortilla and, now, having seen how it’s done, I can see how I ended up with so much of it on Mack’s rug the time I tried to make it.
Things with the family seem to have eased some with the arrival of my nephew. I’m still finding it grueling, but you’re sick of hearing about it. I’m sick of talking about it. I’m kind of sick of everything and I’m tired of being on the defensive all the time.
Bleh, it sucks.
And I’m only writing because it feels good to go through the motions of writing.
Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.
Blah, blah, blah.
I’ve got to pull myself together. The recalcitrant brother is going to be here any minute and I’m sitting here just making a mess of myself.
On the other hand, I have invented a drink. I call it “Family Togetherness.” It’s coffee liqueur and milk over ice. So, now you can believe me when I tell you that I can’t get enough family togetherness.
I’m sure it has some other name.
Did I tell you that I’m writing a play?
It’s based on the true story of the invention of the vibrator. It’s supposed to be funny, but I’m worried it’s too obvious.
My family problems are trite and boring. My imaginary lesbians are trite and boring. I am trite and boring.
But my dog’s cute, so let’s fill up the glass and move on.