Well, my small but growing group of ardent admirers it has been far too long since I updated you.And so I shall update now. But not in an informative way, oh no. And not briefly either. No. For this is not the way of the me. And certainly not now I have a PhD. HELLO POMPOUS ME!
So, I find it hard to write when I have no whimsy and the past few months have less whimsical than previous years. Moving country, starting a new job, getting married, setting up a new life, changing and adjusting to new everything…it is difficult to spot the whimsy when you don’t even know what is normal anymore.
To be fair my yard stick for measuring normal has never been quite the normal length as it was.
What even is a yard stick. HUSBAND, FETCH ME A YARD STICK. I just looked up ‘yard stick’. It’s a ruler. What the heck people? Just call it a ruler.
All rulers should come with a free nun.
See this is the problem. So many things are not called the same things that I know them by, so when I’m asking for something or talking about something and I’m greeted by silence, baffled looks, misunderstandings, outright laughter, the sound of the wind whistling through a deserted street, clocks chiming, squirrels staring at me aghast, and at times a demand to meet me on the battlefield at noon to have it out with swords. At other times my blissful English accent is so confounding to people here it remains almost impossible to purchase everyday items, so even just asking for simple things like ‘butter’ and ‘water’ have become overly complicate How can a person be whimsical when they can’t even buy water or a camel???
And yes I do need a camel. Because of eight very specific reasons.
Anyway. So I got married some of the months ago. I’m going to say eight months…some anyway. And throughout life you see depictions of newly married life as being:
- Fraught with anxiety as you settle into the new role (fairly accurate – TRYING TO WIFE IS OFTEN HIGHLY CONFUSING WHEN ONE IS FAR MORE USED TO SINGLE PERSONING AND PLAYING WITH CATS)
Sigh, sometimes you have to put the cat down and give the husband a hug too.
2. Full of arguments over stupid things (inaccurate – requesting that cupboard doors be shut and that one does not leaving water running for ONE HUUUUUNDRED years before you shower is NOT a stupid thing!!!!!!!)
3. Full of ‘how’s your father’ (just realized how ghastly that description is and as I’m British I cannot comment any further without bursting into horrified flames). Actually I can; if you google ‘polite ways to say sex’ what comes up is lots of people saying ‘no’. Instead I shall just refer to this alarming webpage: http://www.thedatereport.com/dating/communication/1552-100-different-ways-to-say-sex/ My favorites are ‘Horizontal refreshment’ or ‘quimsticking’. Actually I’m feeling all uncomfortable again. And I’m sure Murgatroyd is too. So…onwards.
4. Potentially distressing encounters with new in-laws who dislike you, or yours who dislike your newly married person. And this is what today’s little missive will address. Because this, my fine readership, is not the experience of I, the writer, and Sketch, the random vagabond I found on a train and forced to marry me. (Yes, romance is alive and well.) In fact we agree that when it came to families we both have awesome ones. And today I shall speak of my new family.
‘In-laws’, Webster’s dictionary describes them. Because that is what dictionaries do.
If you are to peruse the internet, and I do not advise this if you plan on leading a full and happy life, but if you do, you will see that most (yes, an internet-worthy generalization) content makes the claim that in-laws are the worst. That mother-in-laws are ghastly and bossy and father-in-laws are quiet and weak. I’d give examples but I don’t have the time. (*hushed whisper* I actually do have the time but I can’t be bothered, teehee).
Well, internet and judgmental folks out there – FIE ON YOU BECAUSE MY IN-LAWS ROCK.
As indeed do my actual laws. Or ‘family’ as I also call them.
However, let us not think for one second that they are not hilarious and slllllllllllightly barmy. No indeed, what Sketch has provided me with is a whole new array of humans to delight in! He gives so much! He also takes my chocolate and last crisp so it’s not all fine sailing!
I have never sailed.
I apologise for using references I cannot substantiate with actual facts.
I did not mean to lie.
I SAID I’M SORRY
But…but I said I was sorry…
Oh you know what…I care a lot less now. At least I have a throne. What do you have?
THIS I AM SURE…
Some sort of bull chair.
AND ALSO THIS
I’m not sure what this is but it came up when I searched ‘stupid chair’. I love the places google searchers can take me.
But wait! I said don’t traverse the internet…
And so the circle of life continues.
Anyway, I digressed a tad: my in-laws – my parents-in-law are wonderful. They are very kind, very generous, and hilariously eccentric in brand new ways to me.
These are my favorite things about my in-laws so far:
Mother-in-law aka The Fork Hustler (TFH):
TFH has stringently high standards of cleanliness and neatness. Something I love about her. However, in witnessing her approach to her home and the humans who enter it I have come to the conclusion that she has a special compartment in her brain that over rides all loving feeling towards even those she made with her own body.
For enter into her home and you will see her mild mannered tone go in a second from ‘hello’ to…WASH YOUR HANDS, TAKE OFF YOUR SHOES!!!!!!!!
This might not be unusual in and of itself for a houseproud person, but it is blasted at her adult children and her husband and indeed new comers. It is also powered through ones ears when one has actually already done both of those things which can be confusing when you are new to the house. Indeed I wondered if I should grubby my hands and re-insert my shoes just so she could witness it firsthand.
Second, and I shall limit myself to just two of my favorite things I like to watch TFH doing at this time, is her relationship to cutlery. Well, I might also squeeze in here that I also find it wonderful that all crockery and cutlery and washed fully and then put in the dishwasher for a second washing. *happy sigh* beautiful cleaning.
On my first visit I was aware, while making a cup of tea, that teaspoons appeared to be in short supply. In fact all cutlery appeared to be in short supply. I was surprised for the house is beautifully decorated and furnished. However Sketch and I still have only two forks, knives and spoons and don’t seem to have any plans to get anymore so I did not think too far into the issue. Not, in fact, until my last trip to the in-laws of glory.
I was once more making tea and there were no tea spoons, there also appeared to be a lack of forks. My father-in-law, who we shall refer to as HE WHO SEES ALL (HWSA) said to TFH, there are not enough forks for everyone, you need to get out more.
TFH sighed with genuine frustration and barely concealed rage and walked to the next room where, as far as I could tell from the rustling and noise, I believe she removed some bricks from the wall and took out a plastic bag, the contents of which were well wrapped in paper towels. She held it close to her chest protectively and glaring at us all for being alive, she reached into what turned out to be her private stash of cutlery and withdrew a gleaming fork.
HWSA said he was just joking and we were all fine. At which point I believe a small vein in TFH’s forehead exploded. In her mind I think she made him burst into one thousand spoons. But instead, while making loud proclamations of the doom soon to befall HWSA the fork was lovingly replaced and the bag placed once more out of sight into what I can only assume was another dimension.
This level of madness honestly made me love her so much more. While I have no immediate plans to start popping out children, when I do I am certain to let them know that hiding spoons is a great way to make their grandmother provide free and loud entertainment. I shall give them popcorn to eat while they watch it all unfold.
Ah yes, ‘children’. This leads me to my father-in-law
Father-in-law: HE WHO SEES ALL (HWSA)
HWSA is a glowing example of a wonderful southern man. He is wise, thoughtful, full of southern wisdom and sayings that mean absolutely nothing to me but sound excellent, and three thousand frighteningly accurate observations on everyone. At a social gathering HWSA can be found sitting back in his chair surveying all before him. Usually with a look that implies he can’t quite believe humanity ever became this stupid. It’s not quite this:
Not least because he is not Sandra Bullock. Hmm, maybe it is like a more subtle and polite version of this:
It is also not this but I sort of wish it was:
Anyway, STOP DIGRESSING WOMAN! BLASTED INTERNET
Right, back to HWSA.
With many people it is best not to know what they are thinking because of how much stupidity that can be contained within a single cranium, with m’father-in-law though, I ALWAYS want to know what he is thinking. It is also often hilarious. However, one of his current conversational bents that rises up in each and every conversation with Sketch and I is this one: ‘well…all this will change when the kids come along’. His determination that we are fooling ourselves about when and where we will produce little humans is glorious. As Sketch remarked, you could be talking about basketball and HWSA will make that very statement:
Sketch: look, a basketball (N.B I don’t really know how one talks about basketball), look a man is running with the ball, he is now throwing it, I do like that throw, I also like his very baggy shorts, I shall buy some.
Other person watching the basketball: yes I too like the throwing of the basketball but I prefer the shorts of the other team, perhaps I shall buy some of them. Oh look, a scoring thing has happened as a result of the ball throwing.
HWSA: Well…this will all change when the kids come along.
Everyone else: ………………
Sketch (frantically): LOOK AT ALL THE BASKETBALL HAPPENING
HWSA: *chuckles to self*
You know I always thought I’d hate being asked or teased about having kids. They are messy and sticky and pregnancy looks like the most hideous thing I’ve ever witnessed. The magic of birth is a horror show of blood and tearing and screaming and noise and drugs. And while that may be a normal Saturday night for some, I happen to prefer a good book and some chocolate.However, from my in-laws, all of this is actually utterly charming and hilarious because they let me tease them back, like with this blog…yeah…chaps? This blog…my in-laws…helloooooo. *noting the moment my burgeoning relationship broke down*
But still…thank you Sketch for my new family. I am very happy.
N.B. while writing TFH just sent me a random text message saying her next step is remove all toilet seats she is tired of cleaning. I LOVE THIS WOMAN.