Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

Such schlepping around as was never before today experienced. First of all, mmmm....sweet, sweet mullet and tackle...





Then we went to the world's most boring place. I'm sorry, but I don't like to trundle around in a group, banging into each other and praying for the excursion to be over. There were some highlights, however: 1. we ate a paper cone full of warm candied pecans and 2. there were many delightful birds doing delightful birdish things. I caught up with this feller taking his afternoon nap:




Hedgehog stoically posed with the perp penguin:



And she played in the waters of the Gulf of Mexico, so that I could capture in a photo the ubiquitous idyll of the child in the waves:





She watched an elderly man surf, and then pretended to do it herself:




Then M-I-L took us on a tour of the Victorian mansions of Galveston, except that she got lost and we ended up at the bootleg package store (click to see the sign):



and here:



Then we had our third command performance extended family meal of the day, and I almost dozed off over my beans. It turned out I didn't even need prescription tranquilizers--the conversation did it for me. Hedgehog was shockingly rude and announced at the table that she was bored and could she be excused? I forgave her because she had been so well-behaved all day. And besides, I felt the same way...

Thesis/Antithesis

I must begin this post with a tale of a very selfish person, and that person is me. Today we visited Sgt. Pepper's aunt's extremely high-end jewelry shop. Now, Hedgehog is very interested in gems, she has a thick book of gems at home that she avidly studies, and so she loved the shop. She got to see a watermelon tourmaline, which she had only before read about, and was sweetly excited about that. But the longer we stayed in the shop visiting, the more closely she began to examine the jewelry, and the more covetous she became.

"Mama," she said. "I have a hundred dollars saved. Do you think there's something I could buy in here?"

"No, sweetie," I told her as kindly as possible. "It's not that kind of store."

"Oh," she was momentarily deflated, but strangely didn't seem to internalize this information. "What about this little ring?" she asked, pointing to a gold band set with ruby, emerald, diamond, and sapphire. Granted, it was not ostentatious. So I could understand her confusion. "It's my favorite thing in the whole store," she told me wistfully. I showed her the price. "Oh," she said. "I don't have that much."

"No," I said. "Neither do I."

"I love it so much, mama."

"Hedgehog," I said. "There are so many things in here that I would dream of having, but I just have to dream, because they're not for me."

However, her innocent words were overheard by a very indulgent grandma. And what do you think happened next? Yes. You are correct. Seven-year-old Hedgehog became the proud yet non-comprehending owner of a gold ring set with ruby, emerald, diamond, and sapphire. And what was my reaction? Jealousy, pure and simple. Never ever before have I been jealous of Hedgehog, never have I begrudged her a moment of happiness or any material thing given to her. Never ever. But here we were, surrounded by stunning jewelry, much of which I would have loved beyond words to receive, but that Sgt. Pepper and I could never ever afford, and instead a little girl was receiving a totally insanely decadently luxe gift, a gift she can't even understand. I felt my throat tighten momentarily, actually felt tears welling up. I'm making this confession here; I comfort myself that one can't help what one feels.

And once I got over these shameful feelings of jealousy, my mothering instinct kicked in. Now I'm still sorting out the event in my mind. Do I object to her getting such an expensive piece of jewelry, for no reason at all, just because she said she liked it? Maybe it's not my place to object--and her grandmother can do whatever she likes with her money. Should I have said something to halt this maybe immoral display of largesse? No, I don't think so. And I tried not to ruin the moment by making faces at Sgt. Pepper and perhaps pinching him until he screamed. In the end, I'm going to let it go and consider that now Hedgehog has her very own special possession that will always be with her, if only in her jewelry box.




The rest of the day was spent in the minivan driven maniacally from place to place.


We ended up at an amusement park, where Hedgehog convinced me to ride this with her:




I agreed and, indeed, enjoyed myself. We saw the moon over the Gulf of Mexico:



But poor Hedgehog as it turned out really really didn't like the height:



Here she is, as she explained to me, trying "not to fall out":



After which, we took a ride on the beautiful carousel:



Where the crazy lights and angles and movement were just a wee bit trippy for me:




But the dignified old rabbit was a comforting presence:



We ended up at a barbecue joint, where Hedgehog rallied enough to ham it up for the camera with a piece of smoked brisket:




Then she flagged, and who could blame her. Between the jewels and the heights, it was a very intense sort of day:



Now why on earth can't they get the punctuation right?

My 100th Post

Wow, today I'm actually sitting up again (well, sort of slumping over, but better than total recumbency  I guess), and I'm having strange cravings for potato chips and cold fresh cherries (that last is thanks to Robyn, who put the idea in my head--I'm obsessed!).  

It's my hundredth post! I'd love to have a contest like people do on these minor milestones.  But I'm still too flu-addled to come up with something.  So maybe soon.  Stay tuned...

So, imminently I must confront my next fear: my mother-in-law.  Every year A. and I take E. on the plane to Texas for a couple of weeks' visit.  Now, I adore Texas.  It's one of my favorite places on earth to visit.  A. and I even lived in Austin for a while, and I have a very fond spot for the state.  For A., who lived an extremely peripatetic boyhood (all over the world, not just all over the States), I think Texas is his second home.  After Brooklyn, that is.  

Every year, to gear up for this sometimes trying visit, I consider the things I like about Texas; here are a few:

1. A. has some really lovely relatives.

2. It's so warm there, 

3. and the Mexican food is sublime...especially because we get Mexican home cooking, not just restaurant food.  Cooking that involves many spices hand-ground in a mortar and pestle, and pots simmering away all day on the stove.  

4. My M-I-L lives in hill country, and the fresh air is abundant.  E. can run around all day and regain her health.

5. The sound of the wind howling around the house at night is romantic, and I can pretend we're on the Scottish moors.

6. The craft superstores are super fun! A far cry from the over-priced, overly precious fancy yarn stores of Brooklyn and Manhattan (not that I don't love those stores, but sometimes you just crave some nice Peaches n' Creme cotton).

7. The Mercado (the Mexican marketplace in downtown San Antonio) is always exciting, year after year.  Never gets old.

8. M-I-L's gigantic house is immaculate, which creates a restful environment.

But here are the problems:

1. M-I-L's house is immaculate.  She has long been a living reproach to me and my own housekeeping skills.

2. It gets a little claustrophobic after a week, even though we've got our own suite in the gigantic house...

3. M-I-L doesn't have any vocal inflection (I mean, her voice is completely flat!!!)  Coming from a family of emoters, this is quite unnerving.

4. A's dad, one of the most wonderful, courtly, delightful, funny men on earth, died the week E. was born.  His absence is truly painful.

5. M-I-L doesn't really like me.  I've known her for 17 years, and our relationship has always been a little strained.  I think she thinks that although A. found a mate who's his equal intellectually and in other ways, I've kept him from being truly happy.  To this I say, lady, you discouraged him from being a fighter pilot, and that's what's kept him from true happiness.  Nothing to do with me!  But why doesn't she like me? She thinks I'm difficult (sure I am sometimes, most notably around her), overly dramatic (again, sure, I'll buy that), neurotic (yup), Jewish (once again, check), overprotective of E. (well, I can't help it).  Worst of all, she thinks that I keep A. from his family.  Now, anyone who knows the real situation knows that 

it was all because of me that we still go on these yearly pilgrimages.  I'm telling you, I'm the one who has singlehandedly held it together! And if that sounds self-aggrandizing, well, it's just the damn truth.

And you know, I've really tried to make it work with her over the years, on a personal level. I tried to be dutiful, I tried to keep her updated on E's comings and goings, to be friendly and loving.   And part of me hates to be disrespectful to my elders (I'm not kidding about this!) by carping.  But when someone doesn't like you, it's hard to stay positive.

How do people deal with their in-laws? There are some good ones out there--I know them even, and I've heard tell.  But what about the myriad difficult ones? Any advice on this topic? Any stories to share? I'd love to hear them...