I was hoping there was some awesome Inuit word the tradition of putting the elderly out on the ice floe once they’ve outlived their usefulness. Sadly, this tradition may be entirely bupkus and certainly doesn’t have an awesome Inuit name. Further travesty: every fake name I came up with sounded a lot like Klingon or the ancient Decapodian tradition of fighting to the death, Claw-Plach.
But that’s where I am. On the ice floe, out to sea. Because my replacement (and good friend, whose blog name shall be Pamela!) has started and, 3 days in, she’s already doing everything. Seriously, she hit the ground running and has basically been nailing it right away. So I am finishing up my last opinion, and then
basically waiting to die from starvation and exposure observing this last trial, answering questions, and basically staying out of everyone’s way.
The counter-balance to Pamela jumping right in and and basically knowing everything there is to know after 3 days (thus cementing my non-importance and easily-replacedness) is that everyone in the building, when introduced to her, has said some variation of “oh, good luck! those are some big shoes to fill!”
Sure, its just generic universal compliment, but on some level its a very superficial form of validation that, en masse, feels kinda good.
Other than that, I am still trying to figure out the moving situation. Most of what I own is now at my brother’s house, and I am trying to rent a truck this weekend to bring it down to the new place. One more week in Columbia, and then I am DC bound for sure.
Living with my family has been a really wonderful experience. The one weekend they were gone, I actually missed all the loud chaos that swirls about me constantly in that household. My nieces are little bundles of occasionally-complainy joy who only know one way to move about the house: stomping and yelling. Neither of those being done in a negative way, to be sure, but I have found that there’s simply an inherent volume to being a child that I had forgotten entirely until moving in with the family.
I helped the youngest with her homework on Sunday. It was one of the most fulfilling experiences of my life.
I keep feeling like, on some level, my brother’s history of managing restaurants and my sister-in-law’s history of working in restaurants informed the way they run their household. There are two major forms of this. The first is the constant hurrying and almost frantic pace in which everything is handled, from doing laundry to getting ready for bed, with the exception of dinner and anything after the girls go to bed. That’s when the entire place goes into chill-mode.
But the other way in which its like living in a restaurant is that the food is basically restaurant food all the time. Thick creamy sauces on everything, lots of penne-with-shrimp or crab dip or omelets or steaks drenched in butter and Bearnaise …. the food has been completely delicious, to be sure, but I have a growing fear of stepping on the scale again.
The last oddity I will mention is this: I am not a fan of the Black-Eyed-Peas. Never have been. Not that I dislike them or anything, they are just simply not anywhere close to being in the same universe wherein my radar resides. Which is why its entirely rash-inducing that I cannot stop singing BEP songs all effing day every day. The entirely family, including my father who lives a mile down the road from my current domicile, all listen to the BEP constantly. Or, barring actual sound coming from the myriad music-playing-devices scattered throughout the entire house (yes, including an MP3 player for each niece), there’s also the constant singing. Constant. Always BEPs. Which manifests in really adorable ways when the whole crew has a car sing-a-long after dinner (and sangria) at Tampico on Friday nights. But less endearing at, say, 7:00 in the a.m. on a Saturday morning after said night at Tampico with said (and copious) sangria.
So that’s an infection I have acquired from my roommates, and which I am currently spreading to my coworkers as a good bye gift.
Is it possible to learn how to do a workable Moonwalk in the next week and a half? I’m trying to think of what my last exit from the courtroom should be …