3 days of Dixie

My cannonization should be in just a few more days. I have done it. I hauled my butt down 8 hours of highway and 8 hours back. I have made the most fascinating small talk in the world. I was pleasant until my cheeks felt numb, and, sweet mother of all that is good and kind in this world, I went antique shopping with BK's mother. HOURS of stores CRAMMED full of old, expensive SHIT. But I did it! Not only did I emerge on the other side relatively unscathed, I emerged holding an antique bread tray for our new dining room table. It's really something.

The marvel that is my mother-in-law (let's call her "Dicki Lee," since that's the name on her birth certificate) cannot really be put into words, but I will share with you one story. Dicki and I had gone to see BK's grandfather, a man so whispy and paper-thin that the sneeze of a dust mite would bowl him over and send him spinning through the air and out of this world. On our way home, Dicki was talking about Granddaddy Lee's stepdaughters, and mentioned that one of them ended up getting a divorce from her husband because she wanted to have children and he didn't. "You think that would be something you'd discuss before you get married," she tut-tutted, and then took her eyes off the road, turned her head towards me, and gave me a Very Meaningful Glare that seemed to last about 10 seconds. Apparently, SOMEONE has been telling his mother that SOMEONE ELSE is holding out on the baby-making goods, and A THIRD SOMEONE thinks that that is not Fullfilling One's Wifely Duties. I might have raised my voice a little when I replied, "Don't worry, Dicki, we're going to have kids, I just want to go to Australia first." Although now I don't really want to give Someones Numbers 1 and 3 the satisfaction.

Speaking of babies, let's not forget the reason for my trip, and that was the baby shower. If I could sum up the experience in one word, it would be "blue."

Baby cake
Originally uploaded by *Karo*.

Now, I am far from being an earnest, attachment-parenting type who thinks that assigning predetermined gender roles to one's child is the Worst Sort of Evil, but even I couldn't help but notice how every single one of the approximately eight trillion items given at this shower was blue, just in case anyone forgot that, GODDAMN IT, THE BABY IS A BOY. The guest of honor seemed a little overwhelmed, but I doubt it was so much the surfeit of blue as it was the labor horror stories that the other guests were sharing with her with great gusto. Merrill does not seem to be subscribing to the same pregnancy preparation course that I am (start researching years before you get pregnant and demonize the process so badly that actual pregnancy and labor seem pleasant by contrast), so you could see the horror growing in her eyes with every additional tale of pooping and tearing. Pooping and Tearing, Attorneys-at-Law!

So here I am, back in the unemployment saddle again, wondering why last night I dreamed that one of my friends bit off his own penis but didn't have health insurance so he stuck it back in his pants and tried to convince everyone that is was fine, just fine, and had reattached itself. I should also add that at his work retreat BK discovered that he likes golf, so I am frightened.