These are the thoughts and observations of me — a woman of a certain age. (Oh, my, God, I'm 65!) I'm single. I'm successful enough (independent, self supporting). I live just outside Chicago, the best city in the world. I'm an aunt and a friend. I feel that voices like mine are rather underrepresented online or in print. So here I am. If my musings resonate with you, please visit my blog again sometime.
Tuesday, December 02, 2014
See? This is what I mean!
Well, she responded. "Hope you had fun in Las Vegas. Not my preference, but then, not my birthday."
This is why I'm most emphatically not looking forward to her staying with me in early 2015. Nothing I do or say is "her preference."
For example, she was telling me how much I was missing by not shopping at Costco. Now I live in a two BR condo with precious little storage. I have no desire to spend any of it on a 12-roll package of paper towels. On the other hand, I wanted to be polite and keep the conversation moving. So I said, "Hmmm ... you know what I could buy in bulk? AA batteries. I'm always running out of them for my TV remote and my shower radio."
"SHOWER RADIO? That's the craziest thing I've ever heard of!"
Or when she kept haranguing me for the size of my purse -- even though I never once complained about its heft or asked her to carry it. Or ... or ... or ...
In addition to making me feel, well, homicidal, she also makes me feel guilty because I know how much she cares about me. (Even though it seems everything I do is, to use one of her favorite words, "stupid.") For my birthday, she got me a pen and letter opener, both inscribed with my name, because she says I'm the last one who bothers to write letters by hand and mail them, and she appreciates it. She always wants me to visit. She fantasizes about trips we'll take to Europe. (I can just imagine her criticizing me all over Poland.)
During my turbulent adolescence, my Cousin Rose was my idol. My role model. The only adult in my world it seemed to support me.
I do honor and treasure that relationship, and wish we could go back.
Posted by The Gal Herself at 12/02/2014 02:13:00 PM 2 comments:
Labels: Depression, Family
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