Ch 1 Sly and Doris trash talk everyone they know, which would be fine except they are breaking the rule about praise out, gossip in

You guys, I love gossip as much as the next person and if it can be snarky gossip about nasty people, I am there with the popcorn.

But there are Rules. The Rules are that you do not trash talk nice people and that you do not trash talk your own people to people outside the group. That is, you never trash talk your own family to strangers.

Unless, of course, you are online and are anonymous, like I am here.

But trash-talking your daughter in law to your son’s girlfriend? Trash talking your own sons to your son’s girlfriend? The girlfriend you are just meeting for the very first time ever?

My friends, that is Not Done.

Yet that’s what Sly and Doris do after not asking me anything about myself. They talk about Primo’ half-brothers, Ted and Jack, and Ted’s wife, Ted’sWife, and Jack’s ex-wife, Stephanie.

·         Ted and Ted’sWife won’t eat leftovers[1] so they are Bad

·         Ted and Ted’sWife served goose for Thanksgiving one year and it was not good

·         Ted and Ted’sWife shop at Dean and DeLuca, even though they had to have Sly co-sign on their credit card because their credit was so bad

·         Ted’sWife smokes!

·         Ted’sWife drinks too much

·         Ted is pompous

·         Jack won’t talk to anyone

·         Sly and Doris invested in Jack’s restaurant and it failed

·         Neither Stephanie nor Ted’sWife know how to load a dishwasher

·         We do not hear about Ted or Jack’s dishwasher-loading skills

·         Ted is so full of crap!

·         Ted and Ted’sWife live beyond their means

·         Stephanie shops like there’s no tomorrow

·         One time when Ted and Ted’sWife were visiting Sly and Doris, Ted’sWife ate all the pickled herring

Doris: Stephanie doesn’t even feed those children brown rice! She gives them white rice! And never prepares broccoli! She doesn’t even know how to make broccoli.[2]

Primo: Mom, Dad. Stephanie is a really nice person. Please stop.

Sly: Her grammar is horrible. We’ll ask her what she and the kids are doing and she says that they are ‘laying’ around. Laying! Laying! I keep correcting her but she won’t change.

Primo: Dad! Whether someone speaks proper English has nothing to do with her value as a human being. Please. Enough with the negative comments. It is rude.

Sly: Primo! She cannot even load a dishwasher! I don’t know if there is anything she can do!

Doris: Ted’sWife can’t load a dishwasher, either.

Sly: No. And Ted’sWife drinks too much.

Doris: And she’s fat. She hasn’t lost any weight. She really needs to lose weight.

Sly nods in agreement. Being overweight is a serious character flaw, not a description of a body. Being overweight is on par with strangling kittens before baking them in a pie to feed to little children.

I study Doris. She is not fat. She is maybe even a little too thin – she is scrawny and ropy, except for the bosom, of course.

Sly would do OK in a famine. He has extra. Enough extra that he shouldn’t be throwing any stones from inside his comfortably padded glass house.

Sly: They don’t even do anything cultural. All they do is watch TV. She doesn’t take those children to the museum. She doesn’t expose them to art or music. Just TV. Nothing cultural. Nothing! It was up to us to take Michael and Maria to the lecture on global warming at the library last week.

I stifle a laugh. That’s just what every high school student wants to do with his grandparents – attend a lecture on global warming. That’s the kind of event that builds fond memories that a person will pull out of her mind during bad times in the future.

“I’m going through chemo,” Maria will muse, 50 years from now, “but what gets me through it is remembering the great times I had with Grandpa and Grandma. Oh, that time they took me to the global warming lecture! What fun that was!”

If only I had more to remember about my grandparents than the times baking bread, making apple pie, picking raspberries, riding on the tractor, watching a calf being born, playing cards, going to Shopko with the dollar my grandma gave me to spend, and going fishing. They never took me to a lecture on global warming. They must not have really loved me. 

Doris: And the spending. She just keeps wasting money, even since the divorce. I ask her what she’s going to do for the weekend and she tells me she’s going shopping. She spends and spends and spends.

This (ex) daughter in law Stephanie person must be truly awful if Sly and Doris are willing to talk about her this way in front of

•        A stranger
•        Who might be the next daughter in law.

I defend myself in my head. I don’t really like brown rice, but I don’t have any children, so what I feed or do not feed them is not an issue. I cook broccoli and other green things all the time. I think I do it right. Is there a wrong way to cook broccoli? Is it a difficult skill to acquire? Wash, cut up, steam, roast, or boil, right?

My grammar is usually fine, although I don’t parse every word that comes out of my mouth, and I try not to judge other people on theirs. My grandmother says, “ain’t,” but that doesn’t mean she isn’t worthy of love and respect.

I used to be that obnoxious person who would correct people’s (peoples’?) grammar online, but then I realized that I was being a total jerk. I stopped doing it. I don’t want to be a jerk. I like being right (who doesn’t?) but man that is a dangerous path to follow. It’s better to be nice than to be right.

I could lose a few pounds, but nobody would say I was fat. I’d been fat. I know what fat is. I fight it every day. They might say I was comfortable, but not fat. 

And even if I were fat, SO WHAT? Fatness <> moral worth. Fat is just an adjective. It is one of many body types, but being fat is not a moral crime. Being fat does not make a person bad. It is not a result of being a bad person. It’s just a thing. My fatness, whatever degree of fat I might be, does not hurt anyone else.

I prefer to watch Bridezillas over going to a museum, but I have seen my fair share of Great Art. Finally, I am not a big spender. Most of my clothes money is spent at the Junior League Thrift Shop, one of the best-kept secrets in town for good clothes at a great price. I don’t spend a million bucks on dressing myself. I just look like it.

I congratulate myself. There will be no reason for Sly and Doris to criticize me. By the standards they are defining, I am almost perfect.

Things that make a person a bad daughter in law or just a bad person, period	Things I do/am	Things I do not do/am not
Uses bad grammar		X
Doesn’t cook or eat broccoli		X
Doesn’t cook broccoli properly		I don’t know yet – what is the right way to cook broccoli?
Is fat	I might be a little chubby	Mostly not, but it was always lurking. This could be a danger point.
Spends a lot of money		X
Smokes	But I plan to start once I am too old to get those wrinkles around my mouth	X
Won’t talk to anyone	But I don’t want to talk to Sly and Doris	I will talk to perfect strangers in line at the grocery store
Is pompous		I don’t think I am
Serves goose		I’ve never even eaten it
Won’t eat leftovers		I cook huge batches of stuff and freeze it
Doesn’t go to museums	I don’t go to museums anymore	I’ve been. I’m done. A person can get tired of museums.
Shops at Dean & DeLuca even with bad credit		I’ve never shopped there, even with good credit
Drinks too much		I don’t like alcohol and almost never drink
Doesn’t know how to load a dishwasher	I don’t know how to load a dishwasher. I wash my dishes by hand. For one person, a dishwasher is wasteful.
Eats all the herring		I don’t even like herring

---

[1] I gotta agree with Sly on this one. Wasting food? That is just wrong.

[2] In the tone of voice one would use to say, “She feeds them strychnine!”

Ch 1 The apple does not fall far from the tree? Should I reconsider a future with a man who might grow into his parents’ collecting habits? Do I dare risk a collection of pigs?

Now that I have seen his parents’ house, this scene, which occurred last month at Primo’s place, makes more sense.

Me: Are you through with those newspapers?

There is a pile a foot high stacked on the shelf next to his TV.

Primo: No. Why?

Me: Because it's a ton of papers and it looks bad.

Primo: If the pile outgrows the space, then it's reason for concern. But if it fits into the available space and it's in a neat pile, then what's the problem?

Me: They're old newspapers. Nobody reads old newspapers. You don’t have a fireplace. You are not moving. Why do you need them?

Primo: I don’t know. I might.

Me: I doubt it. You should put them in the recycling.

Primo: You don't think a neat pile is an acceptable resolution of a big mess, do you?

Ch 1 part 6 The mess that is Sly and Doris' house, which is something I am not used to seeing, as people who move every three or four years courtesy of the US Air Force tend not to accumulate a lot of stuff

When I examine Sly and Doris’ house, their annoyance at having to clean out the spare room starts to make more sense. My mom is a neatnik. She has stuff, but it is all very well organized and put away and labeled. It is a lot of stuff – she probably does not need her Simplicity patterns from 1978 and I am trying to convince her to donate that kind of thing so I won’t have to deal with it later,[1] but she is not disorderly.

Sly and Doris appear to have a different approach. They have the “Let’s just pile everything on top of everything else and create a mishmash of junk” approach, an approach that many people, including yours truly, would consider a pre-hoarder approach.

Every surface in the living room and kitchen – except the ceiling – is covered with knickknacks or photos or papers or magazines or pigs. Pigs of every material: brass, ceramic, clay, glass. They like pigs, I guess.

There is also, just to add some variety, a glass octopus on the mantel of the fireplace. (Not sure why you need a fireplace in Florida, but there you go.) It is lit. From within. It is something to behold. Totally not making this up. 

A piano is crammed in next to the breakfast table. Nature Conservancy magazines are stuffed between the wall and the piano and stacked on top of it.

There are two bookcases in the breakfast nook, one on either wall, leaving almost no room to pull the chairs from the breakfast table, not that I would need to pull out a chair because that table is place where people sit to eat.

Books and magazines overflow the bookcases. Spirit catchers and leaded glass thingies are stuck to the window. Greasy, dusty old delivery vases full of artificial flowers are on top of the cupboards. The counters are crammed full of appliances, pill bottles, spice jars, and snacks.

In the living room, three cats lounge on the back of the sofa. Two of the cats are sweet and affectionate; the third is hostile, drawing blood from me when I sit by her. There is one cat dish on the breakfast bar and another on the floor next to the kitchen counter.

Stacks of Mother Jones and National Geographic and crossword puzzles sit on the coffee table. An old plastic trash can sits next to the end table by the sofa. On the end table is a pile of mail and newspapers about five inches high.[2]

Half of Primo’s office has piles of empty corrugated boxes, the tub in the spare bathroom is full of empty corrugated boxes,[3] and there are stacks of old newspapers next to his sofa, but he can’t hold a candle to his parents.

Sly, is unshaven – he has those thick gray whiskers older men get and there is hair sprouting from his ears – and is wearing Birkenstocks without socks, shorts, and a stained t-shirt that said, “Vote Republican – it’s easier than thinking.” His toenails are thick and yellowed and jagged and his heels are cracked and blackened. I look away quickly before I catch old man foot cooties.

Doris is barefoot. Her feet are in the same condition as Sly’s. Should I judge her more harshly for having gnarly feet? It doesn’t seem fair, but at least women can get a pedicure.

Wait. Men can get a pedicure, too.

And no. Not fair to judge her more harshly than Sly just because she is a woman and we judge women on their looks. In fact, I am betraying the Sisterhood by even thinking that Doris should take better care of her feet than Sly should. Shame on me. Shame.

Her hair, thick, gray, and blunt cut at shoulder length, is pushed back from her face with a headband. She wears no makeup.

She wears baggy khaki capris and a long t-shirt decorated with butterflies. No bra.

She is tall and very slim. And very generously endowed.

I will leave it at that.

Although, again, I have to slap myself and remind myself that I should not collaborate with The Patriarchy in judging a woman with unbound breasts or on her looks in general. Women do not exist to provide eye candy for other people. I have heard – I would not know myself – that when one is busty, wearing a bra can be very uncomfortable.

OK! I don’t judge. I am not judging. Doris does not have to conform to the norms of the Patriarchy in her own house. She doesn’t.

---

[1] If you know what I mean.

[2] So that’s where Primo gets his Leaning Tower of Visa.

[3] “Because someday, I might move out of this apartment,” he says when I ask him why he needs to keep a bunch of boxes. 

In which Primo agonizes about whether to visit Ted when he (Primo) is going to the city where Ted lives and Primo's best friend and I both say, "Why bother? He's had plenty of chances to be a decent human being to you?" but another friend says, "What harm could there be?" which to me means, the other friend has never encountered anyone toxic ever

What Primo (and I) would really like to have:

A brother (in-law) who is a decent, kind person who is nice to be around.

What Primo has:

A brother who is nice only when he wants something and even that niceness is tinged with - I don't know how to describe it - condescension? mocking? the clear impression that Ted is saying the words he knows he should say but that he is rolling his eyes as he is speaking?

Primo has had a trip planned to Washington DC for a month. It's some political group thing and they actually pay people to do work and it's a place he would like to work and they are paying for the trip and we have enough money to survive even if Primo never works again but I still want him to get a job because I don't want to be the only working (one of us has to work so we can have decent health insurance).

For this month, Primo has wondered if he should try to see Ted, who lives on the way to DC.

I have said No! No! No!

But Primo says that he wants to try to have a good relationship with Ted.

I say why? Primo has all the power in this relationship. He does not need to cultivate Ted for anything. Ted is the one who has been the jerk in all of this. He has had so many chances to be nice to Primo and has chosen to be a jerk instead.

Ted is a middle-aged man whose own best friend of 30 years told Primo last year that he was "taking a break" from Ted.

As in, what kind of person can't even keep a relationship with his best (and maybe only) friend?

And why should Primo be doing all the work? Ted has never apologized for being a jerk, for screaming at Primo, for implying that Primo was stealing from the trust. His niceness always precedes a request for money. He is never nice just to be nice.

But Primo persists.

He left for DC two days ago. Called me last night.

Primo: You know I asked Pete and Julie if I should talk to Ted. Pete* said nope. Julie said I should call.

Me: Julie's never met Ted, has she?

Primo: No. Pete says Julie is a lot nicer than he is.

Me: A lot nicer than I am, too.

Primo: And then Tom** called. He and (his wife) think I should call Ted, too.

Me: These people have never met Ted! They have no idea what he's like!

Primo: I know. And I have been thinking about it all day and dreading it. And then I saw a notification that it is Jack's birthday today, so I knew I needed to call or text him. So I decided to call.

Me: Call Jack?

Primo: I started with Ted. And Ted'sWife answered the phone. They are in Atlanta at Ted'sMom's place - she is very sick and they think she is dying.

Me: So you don't have to visit! But you get credit for trying!

Primo: Yeah, but - Ted and Jack's mom is dying!

Me: That is awful.

Primo: So I feel bad for them.

Me: Of course.

Primo: I told Ted'sWife to call me if they are back in DC before I leave next week.

Me: But you hope they won't.

Primo: Yes.


* Primo's best friend for 35 years

** A very good friend of 30 years

Ch 1 Primo's mom and dad and the conversation I thought we would have, which just goes to show you how lucky I have been with the parents of previous boyfriends, including the college boyfriend’s parents who thought we were too young to marry (we were), but who were always polite and kind to me

This is how I thought it would go when I met Primo’s parents.

Doris: Goldie, we are so excited to meet you! Primohas told us a little bit about you, but not enough.

Sly: Yes! Welcome to our home. We are happy to have you here. Would you like a glass of water or juice? I’m afraid we don’t have diet soda, but we can get some at the store tomorrow. Doris did ask Primo what you drink, but he never got back to her.

Me: A glass of water would be lovely. Thank you.

Doris: Are you hungry? You guys have been traveling since early this morning and I am pretty sure they don’t feed people on planes anymore. Did you stop for lunch on the way here? If you didn’t, I can make some sandwiches or get out some cheese and crackers and grapes. You must be hungry! Oh! And I did make an apple pie. It’s Primo’s favorite. No time like the present to have pie!

Me: Pie sounds great! I am hungry.

Doris: Oh! Before I forget – I thought I asked Primo to ask you this, but is there anything you cannot eat?

Me: No! I like everything but tripe!

Primo: I like tripe.

    Me: You also like tendon. You are weird.

Sly and Doris laugh merrily.

Doris: Oh that son of ours! He is indeed an adventurous eater! Don’t worry! I am not planning on serving tripe!

Primo: But I don’t like anything with that orange flavor, like beets or chard or winter squash.

Me: And nothing that ends in “erry!”

Sly and Doris laugh again.

Doris: I see you have been learning Primo’s food rules!

Me: Yes! Honestly, how did you put up with him when he was a kid? He is so picky!

Doris: Oh my! There were times when he ate a cheese sandwich for supper. My mother was from Georgia and I like my greens! I had no intention of being a short-order cook in my own kitchen.

Me: Good for you!

Doris: Goldie, Primo told me that even though you both live in Austin, you two met at your college reunion. What was your major?

Me: I didn’t choose as wisely as Primo did – I majored in English.

Sly (laughing): Wait a second there, young lady! I was an English professor. English is a perfectly fine major!

Me: I know. My original plan was to major in biomedical engineering, go to medical school, and then design artificial body parts. I didn’t quite make it. Instead, I went to the University of Texas for my MBA.

Sly: Well, the world of English is happy to have you! Who is your favorite author?

Doris: Let’s not get into shop talk, dear! Goldie, Primo tells us you also live in Austin. Are you from Austin?

Me: No, I moved there for a job after college.

Sly: Oh really? And what is your work?

Me: These days, I do marketing for a tech company.

Sly: That is a field about which I know nothing. Tell me more!

Me: [blah blah blah about my job]

Doris: Dear, where are you from originally?

Me: My dad was in the air force, so we moved around a lot when I was a kid.

Sly: Really? I was in the navy for four years. Where was your father stationed?

Me: We lived in Spain when I was a kid and in the Panama Canal Zone when I was in high school. Most of the rest of the time in the US was in Texas.

Doris: How fascinating! We lived in Michigan briefly while Sly was completing his graduate work, but then we lived in Pittsburgh for the next forty years until he retired and we moved here. It must have been so interesting to live in so many different places! How I loved visiting my grandparents in Georgia. I love to travel.

Me: Yes, I do, too. That’s where all my disposable income has gone over the years. I don’t have a fancy car, but I have traveled. And I do like Georgia. I like the south a lot. I am not a fan of snow!

Doris: I have to admit I do not miss the Pennsylvania winters at all!

Sly: Nor do I! Shoveling snow certainly loses its charm after a short time. And once the kids were out of the house, we had nobody to delegate it to!

Doris: You lived in Spain and Panama? Do you speak Spanish?

Me: Yes, but I am fluent only because I was a Peace Corps volunteer in Chile. I learned Spanish in school in Spain and Panama, but in Chile, I had to speak it to buy food and pay my bills, so that’s when I got good.

Doris: You were a Peace Corps volunteer? That is wonderful! We are huge liberals so of course we support the Peace Corps! Do you realize how many Parent Points you have just gained with us? How could we ever find a better partner for our beloved son? Welcome, welcome, welcome!

Sly: Let’s see. You went to the same college as our son, so you clearly meet the educational standard we would have for a daughter in law. And you, unlike our son, have a master’s degree – and from a top university! In addition, you have one of the best liberal credentials possible – you were a Peace Corps volunteer. Truly we have hit the jackpot for potential daughters in law. Welcome indeed!

Are you thinking, “Yeah, that’s how these things go” or are you thinking, “Bless your stupid little heart, Goldie, you are delusional. There is no way the conversation could have gone that well. That is fiction!”

If you picked Option 2, you would be correct.

This is how it actually goes.

Sly [not making eye contact with me]: Primo, what do you think about the Pirates this year?

Primo: Sports talk

Sly: More sports talk

Primo: Even more sports talk

Doris: But what about politics? We need to talk about politics!

Sly: Oh definitely! Politics talk

Primo: More politics talk

Doris: And even more politics talk

Sly: Politics!

Doris: Politics squared!

Primo: Yeah OK politics

Sly: Stupid people who don’t agree with me on politics!

Doris: Totally stupid! If they don’t agree with us, it’s because they are stupid!

Primo: Well, sometimes people have valid reasons for disagreeing.

Sly: Those stupid people are too stupid to live. Why are they even allowed to stay in this country?

Ch 1 Primo’s mom and dad don’t offer us anything to eat or drink, even though we are guests in their home and isn’t that kind of the standard? Houseguests arrive at your house and you ask if they hunger or thirst?

We arrive at Primo’s mom and dad’s house. In the car Primo rented. Because they won’t pick us up at the airport the WAY NORMAL PARENTS DO.

They do shake my hand. So there is that. 

But there has been almost no eye contact so far. I have tried to make eye contact with them, but they do not seem to be interested in making eye contact with me. It’s the weirdest thing. I keep trying – I even put my glasses on, so you know I am serious about seeing what was going on, and they will not look at me! People! I am not used to this! I am not used to being ignored! This is bizarre.

And unlike with my family, who throws[1] food at people[2], and even though we have been traveling since 7 a.m. our time and it is now just after lunch our time, they do not offer us anything to eat or drink.

Nothing! Not even a, “Would you like a glass of water?!” And for sure not a, “You must be starving! Did they feed you on the plane? It’s been a while since we have flown, but we expect that airline meals have not gotten any better. Here! Let us give you some food!”

Nope. They. Do. Not. Offer. Food.

I am hungry. I eat three meals a day.

OK. I eat three meals a day. At least.

Had I known they were not going to feed us, I would have insisted that we stop for lunch – because we could have because we rented a car – and I would have brought some emergency food with me. But I hate spending money on restaurant food (you guys, I am a very good cook) and it didn’t even occur to me that they would not offer food to us the second we crossed the threshold. Ha. Shows you how dumb and sheltered I am.

I just assumed the usual social niceties would be observed, but I was wrong.

When we arrive, I give Doris a small hostess gift – some fancy cornmeal I had gotten at an arts and crafts fair. Everyone likes fancy versions of everyday things, right? She thanks me and puts the bag on the kitchen counter.

As in – I gave them food. I gave them food. And they are not even asking me if I want something to eat.

After about an hour, I finally ask for some water. Is that rude? Did I wait long enough? I have never had to ask for water before. My people – we like to feed people.

Without even looking at me, Doris tells Primo to get me some water. I follow Primo into the kitchen.

Me: When are we going to eat lunch? I’m hungry!

Primo : They don’t eat lunch.

Me: What do you mean, they don’t eat lunch?

  Primo: They don’t. They have breakfast and they have a snack in the late afternoon and then they have supper.

What are the rules on this? My dad gave me a stern talking to once because I didn't have coffee in my house. "But Dad!" I protested. "I don't drink coffee!"

"Yes, but you might have guests who want coffee," he answered. "Like me."

So I bought coffee and a little Cuban stovetop coffee maker, which is called a cafetera in case anyone wanted to know, and used it for my coffee-drinking company.

Me: But I’m hungry! Aren’t you?

Primo : I can make it until supper.

He’s like a python – he can get by with eating once a day.

Me: I can’t! I’m hungry! And I’ll get a headache if my blood sugar drops. I didn’t bring a lot of migraine drugs with me. Imitrex is really expensive and it makes me feel crummy.

Primo : Let me see if I can find something for you in here. What about this?

Me: Cracker Barrel? Are you kidding me? That’s bad cheese.

Apparently, I have forgotten the part about Hungry Beggars Cannot Be Choosy and Demand the Good Cheese.

Primo : They don’t get the good stuff, but that’s what’s available. Want some? I think there might be some nuts in the cupboard, too. I’ll put together a plate for you.

Primo and I return to the living room with water and snacks.

Sly: It’s not snack time!

Primo : We haven’t eaten since breakfast, Dad. I made a little snack for Goldie and me.

This is the part where I wait for a horrified exclamation from Sly and Doris of, “What were we thinking? You must be starving! Please! Let us give you some lunch!”

And.

It does not happen.

So I eat the cheese.

---

[1] Not literally. I mean “throws” as in “offers.”

[2] You have to tell my grandmother “no” at least three times to convince her that no, you do not want lemon pie or rhubarb bars or chocolate chip cookies or anything to eat at all, thankyouverymuch.

Ch 1 We spend money to fly to Florida and Primo’s mom and dad don’t even pick us up at the airport

Me: What do you mean, we have to rent a car?

Primo: To get from the airport to my mom and dad’s.

Me: They aren’t going to pick us up?

Primo: No! It’s an hour drive!

Me: So? I had a two-hour layover in Denver once and my mom drove up from Colorado Springs just to hang out with me.

Primo: They don’t like to drive that long.

Me: So you have to pay to rent a car?

Primo: They think I am made of money.

In which Primo wants to tell Ted how awful Ted has been so that Ted will see the error of his ways and apologize

I know.

I laughed, too, when Primo proposed this. Primo is so sincere and honest and will bend over backwards to help his friends.

Ted is a jerk.

If Primo tells Ted that Ted has upset Primo with all the jerky things Ted has done, Ted will, I guarantee, get super defensive and will then attack Primo.

Although if this happens, maybe it would make it easier for Primo to shake the dust off his shoes about Ted. I am fine with Ted never being a part of our lives again.

Chapter 1 part 2

My sister thinks I am uptight

Me: Jenny. Have you ever taken a boyfriend to mom’s and shared a room with him?

Jenny: Are you KIDDING me? Which mom are you talking about?

Me: Yeah, that’s what I thought.

Jenny: Why?

Me: Primo is taking me to meet his parents—

Jenny: It’s about time. You guys have been together for more than a year.

Me: Yeah, well. They live in Florida so it’s not exactly easy to get there. Anyhow, Primo told his parents that I want to sleep in a separate room from him--

Jenny: Wait. He had to tell them that?

Me: Yes. I guess it’s not the default for them. He says his parents “pride themselves on being hip.”

Jenny: I’ve stayed in the same room with a boyfriend at his mom and dad’s. I never even thought twice about it.

Me: But what about taking a boyfriend to visit mom?

Jenny: That’s totally different! That is not how mom rolls! Mom does not pride herself on being hip.

Me: No kidding.

Jenny: So they just assumed you guys would be in the same bedroom?

Me: Yes.

Jenny: Are you guys sharing a room now?

Me: Umm. Yes. But at his place or at my place.

Jenny: I thought you weren’t going to sleep with him until his divorce was final.

Me: Yeah well that resolution didn’t last very long.

Jenny: Homewrecker.

Me: Hey! He had already moved to Austin and filed when I met him. It’s been six years since he split with his ex-wife!

Jenny: She’s not his ex-wife. Legally.

Me: You know what I mean.

Jenny: Yeah, whatever, you homewrecker. When was the last time you visited a boyfriend’s parents?

Me: Probably not since I was in my mid-twenties.

Jenny: You are old now. Nobody cares. Maybe they’ll ask you to smoke pot with them.

Me: Nope. They hate drugs.

Jenny: It’s just sex they are hip about?

Me: I guess so. I am not getting a good vibe about this. I didn’t think it would be a big deal, but I guess it is. I have never slept in the same room with a boyfriend at his mom and dad’s and hadn’t even thought about it, but then Primo mentioned that they will put us both in the guest room.

Jenny: That is a little weird that you don’t want to be in the same bedroom with him.

Me: No! It’s that I don’t want to be in the same bedroom with him at his mom and dad’s! That’s the weird part. When we stayed with his friend Doug last year, Doug didn’t want us in the same room. He said it would be a bad influence on his kids. Primo said if we couldn’t be in the same room then we weren’t coming. I didn’t care about that. It’s just in front of parents that it feels wrong.

Jenny: Call me when you get there. I want to know what happens.

Maybe the first chapter? Or part of it?

Raise your hands: How many of you slept in the same room as your significant other the first time you went to his parents’ house and stayed there overnight?

Yeah. Me neither.

Every single time I have ever visited the parents (1), I have stayed in my own room and the boyfriend has stayed in his own room.

Anytime I have taken a boyfriend to my parents’ house, we have had separate sleeping quarters.

It never even occurred to me that it would be any other way – that parents would expect their child, even their adult child, to share a room with his SO.

But then, I have never met Primo’s mom and dad before.

“They pride themselves on being hip,” he tells me when he explains that they are very annoyed at the idea that I would not be comfortable sharing a room with him under their roof.

Wait. “Annoyed” is probably not the right word.

They are pissed.

Primo: They just don’t want to clean the spare room. And, like I said, they pride themselves on being hip.

Me: Parents are not supposed to be hip. I can promise you that when we go to my mom’s house, we will be in separate rooms. My mother is not hip.

---

1. I have multiple data points on parental visits. Not with the guy in grad school whose parents, it turned out, didn’t even know I existed. That, my friends, is a red flag that should not be ignored. I ignored it. But that’s a different story.

In which Primo is called a rabble rouser

You guys, you know I don't always agree with Primo about politics. And you know he can talk LordHaveMercy can he talk.

But he is not rude. He is not disruptive. He is not impolite.

The other day, he was at a local party meeting. There were about ten people there. He got there too late to eat any of the pizza the other people had ordered, but he bought a beer. It is rude to use an establishment as a meeting place and not pay some sort of rent.

He encouraged the other people there to go to the town halls our congressman and our state representative are holding. Both the congressman and the state rep are of the other party.

Primo has run against both men. He has met both men in person. One time, he was on a flight back from DC and ended up sitting next to congressman, with whom he had a very nice conversation - congressman knew who Primo was and that Primo was running against him.

State rep, the first time Primo ran against him, made a point to seek Primo out to introduce himself.

Primo writes to congressman all the time. This congressman signs all of his constituent letters by hand. When he sees that the letter is to Primo, he crosses out the "Mr Digger" and writes, "Primo" in its place.

At state rep's town hall last week, state rep sought Primo out afterwards, said hello, and asked how I (we have met) am doing.

State rep and congressman have never been anything but gracious to Primo. They understand, as Primo does, that there is nothing personal about their disagreements.

So Primo was very upset to learn that a local talk show host had talked some trash about him.

Someone else at the local meeting had overheard Primo and had called the talk show host, saying that Primo, the "leader" of the group (he is not) was trying to "organize protests" (um no - Primo has attended protests but going to a town hall meeting and respectfully asking questions of one's elected representative is not "organizing a protest"). Not to mention, BlessHisHeart, that Primo is not an organizer. He is a thinker - he analyzes issues deeply and has ideas about how to fix them, but he is not an organizer. At all. I live with him. I know.

Primo wrote this on facebook:

Here's some entertaining news: I was mentioned by [local talk show host] yesterday! (Listen to this podcast starting at 13:55.) He read a report from an unnamed listener describing me as "the leader" of the Drinking Liberally [our city] group, which I am not, and accusing me of "organizing protests against [other party] elected officials at their town hall meetings." Pretty much everything he said about our discussion was incorrect, including that we were not buying food or drinks at the business. I was simply mentioning the upcoming town halls and suggesting that my [of the same party] friends should try to attend. I'm confident that both [state rep] and Congressman X would say that I participate respectfully in their meetings.

If someone had called Primo an ultra-his party who believes in A, B, and C, he would have smiled and said, "Yes." But to be accused of bad behavior that you have not committed? That hurts.

In which I try to convince Primo that a neutral third-party as trustee for the grandkids might actually be better for them and would not be a sign that Primo was betraying his nieces and nephews

Niece #2 wanted money from the trust for a car.

Primo already disbursed funds to Niece #1 for a car.

Stephanie's boyfriend of several years sells cars. He found a car for N2, but there was some weird stuff in the contract about how he couldn't waive the commission and that bothered Primo A LOT.

Me: Either you are going to have to be super involved in this kind of decision or you are going to have to let it go.

Primo: But what if Stephanie's boyfriend* is scamming N2 on the car?

Me: It's her money. She's an adult. And now, your parents are winning, because they are pitting you against the rest of your family. Why else would they designate you as the trustee for their grandchildren's money instead of the children's parents?

Primo: I hate doing this.

Me: Then resign!

Primo: But I would feel guilty - like I had abandoned a responsibility.

Me: If a lawyer were the trustee, he could ask all these questions about the commission and even if it makes the family angry at him, it does not affect the rest of their relationship. The kids might be better off with a neutral third party who does not have to balance family ties with the trust.

Primo: Maybe.



* Who is a lovely man and who has not given us any reason to believe he is dishonest

In which Primo discovers that people really really really like getting handwritten thank-you notes

Primo's stationery (ary?) arrived before Christmas. He has been writing the notes since then. I understand that politicians are busy and you can't write an entire note for every campaign contribution - most notes we have gotten have been printed postcards with the candidate's signature as the only handwritten item, but when someone prepares a bunch of food for a campaign event and hauls it from Capitol City to Our City 90 miles away or when someone donates $100, that is a lot and it merits a handwritten thank you.


Primo: I ran into two people who got thank you notes from me.

Me: And?

Primo: They made a point of thanking me! They were so happy to get them!

Me: That's really nice.

Primo: A guy I used to work with had sent me a contribution and I wrote him a note. We're not really in touch - someone else at work had shared my campaign page with him and he started following and then sent me some money. He wrote me a letter. A LETTER!

Me: Retail politics. Plus, when people give you their hard-earned money, it's really nice for that to be acknowledged.

In which Primo muses that maybe Sly would have changed the will if he had lived longer because he was so grateful at all the help Primo was giving him and I bite my tongue

Primo: Maybe my dad would realize how grateful he was to me and acknowledge all the help I had given them.

Me: Umm. OK.


Primo: Although on my dad's last day, when Jack and I were with him in the room, he was delirious and saying that he was going to disinherit Jack and me and leave it all to Ted.