The bright side of no one reading my blog is that I can rant for my own amusment
Posted by woodenmonkey
The MIL called me back today to say I shouldn’t order a Christmas turkey yet, because it hadn’t been decided yet what the menu was going to be.
I don’t eat red meat. Or most any seafood not on the sustainable seafood list. Or meat that isn’t organic and sustainably raised. And there is a poultry ranch less than an hour away that sells heritage, organic, pasture raised turkeys. And I’ve met the farmer’s, and they are a lovely couple. And last year we didn’t get one of their turkeys because we waited to long to order one.
I pointed out that I needed to order one now, or risk not getting one (again). She implied that I was wrong, and that I should wait to order one. I pointed out that they spend Christmas Eve with their son-in-law’s family, and that if they didn’t want turkey on Christmas Day, then I’d just serve it on the 24th. And still she wanted me to hold off.
I did not hang up on her. Or yell. So someone owes me a gold star.
On the amazingly small chance anyone else reads this – I’m not a crazy control freak. The in-laws are horrible planners, and I’ve given up expecting them to know their plans less than a week in advance. The way I deal with this is that I figure out the minimum it will take to make me happy – in this case a local and ethical turkey that I know I have to order this early or I won’t get one – and then do it, and let go of all the other details until a week before hand.
And right now my life is so uncontrolled in the basic sense of who knows when I’ll get to stand and walk and cook and water the potted plants and go to the grocery store and about a million other things that have been out of my reach for the last few months. I thought I’d be walking by now. By last month. And so, to avoid future disappointment, I’m trying to avoid planning for things that I may or may not be able to do.
But the one thing I’ve allowed myself to plan and become enthusiastic for is the Christmas turkey.
Her lack of empathy makes me sad. And I don’t want to talk to her for a while.
Because what I really want to do is yell at her and then hang up.
Don’t judge me.
About woodenmonkeyJust your average solar powered, hybrid driving, organic eating, happily married, pro-choice, feminist Christian artist and writer from San Francisco.
Posted on October 4, 2011, in Retro post (which is another way of saying I forgot to post it when I wrote it). Bookmark the permalink. 3 Comments.