December 12, 2001

Philadelphia, Part I

Oh, it's good to be home again. Obviously, I survived the family visit. Now that
I've taken all the suspense out of it, here are the
details.

(Digression: Jesus, no wonder it was cold out on the lake
this morning. According to the weather forecast, it was only supposed to be about
30 degrees out. Brr.)

Even my Dad commented that we hadn't had any
fights on this trip. I considerately refrained from pointing out that that was
because a) I'd escaped from their house for at least half the trip and b) I bit my
tongue whenever a snide remark came to mind. There were plenty to be made, though,
and if there are no objections, I will reward myself for being a good girl by
letting them out here.

[Any objections? No?
Good.]

There were hard feelings between the 'rents and My Brother the
Writer (MBTW) before I got there, because he and his girlfriend picked me up at
the airport and told Mom they would bring me over "if I weren't too tired". They
told me they were trying to save me from dealing with my parents too much,
completely missing the point that I save myself from that fate by living three
thousand miles away. If I'm in their city at all, I've girded my loins and put a
lock on my tongue and am prepared to deal with all and sundry, in the interests of
family harmony (and some gratitude to my parents, who after all did and do try to
do well by their children.) This is especially ironic because the girlfriend, who
will henceforth be referred to as The Prodigy, got her MA in Psychology shortly
after her 21st birthday. And she got it from Penn, which is a difficult school, as
I can vouch.

Also, Mom was mad because on the phone on Thursday, MBTW
didn't tell her to have a happy birthday, and she was throwing a medium hissy fit
over how her feelings were hurt, despite the plans for all of us to gather for a
big combo mom-and-bro birthday dinner the next day, my visit specifically to
celebrate those birthdays, and a lot of friends taking her out to lunch and making
a fuss. And Rudder thinks I get silly about birthdays.

Greatly to Mom's credit, she came with me to the local Y the next
morning, where I erged while she walked on the treadmill. After that, we went to
the Art Museum to check out the Eakins exhibit. It was a little disappointing to
know that his famous rowing paintings are only a fairly minor part of his career -
-I had hoped to see many more rowing paintings than the ones I knew about. Still,
it was a wonderful exhibit, and I highly recommend it. I love how you can tell, by
the lighting and the level of detail, exactly what part of each image Eakins
conspired most important. And I burst out laughing in from on one rowing scene
where, according to the accompanying text, he'd painted himself in, rowing in the
middle distance -- the puddles left by his oars showed him as a strong rower with
perfect form. Tidy little piece of self-praise there.

After that, we
walked through the museum's European section, which turned out to be a mistake, as
Mom viewed every work through Jewish-colored glasses. At the stone effigy of a
Crusader, she make remarks about his "killing Jews all along the way" and she was
far more interested in a minor painting showing Esther and Mordechai than in
anything dealing with either secular or New Testament subjects, or even the
beautiful stained glass and furniture in some rooms. Sigh.

The dinner
was good, but not exciting, at a very loud and crowded restaurant called
Georgine's. (And called Georgini's by the parents of a former boyfriend, with whom
I'd eaten there over a decade ago.) The food was Italian, and tasty, but I have
trouble with restaurants whose biggest claim to fame is the quantity of their
food. Maybe that's because I don't eat much, though, compared to most
males.

We unwrapped presents afterwards, and everyone seemed to like
the things I'd given, especially the handmade ones. (Relieved
sigh.)

I spent the next day with MBTW and The Prodigy, getting ready
for and then attending his birthday party. I do like her; we spent a lot of time
talking. I think that, like the rest of us, she's frustrated by his vagueness and
apparent lack of ambition -- she told me he hasn't written anything new in a year
or so. Though considering how long it's been since I worked on my own book
project, perhaps I ought not to comment on that. For example, though, he'd finally
gotten a learner's permit, two months ago, and hadn't so much as touched a
steering wheel. I did my big-sisterly duty by taking him to a nearby parking lot
and administering his first driving lesson, which actually went fairly well. The
party was somewhat tame, though it did go on until 3 AM. (And despite my normal
early bedtime, I did stay up for it all -- not so much due to natural studliness
as to the fact that I was to sleep on the living room futon.)

Having
just realized how long this is getting, I'll write about the rest of the trip
later -- including getting up close and personal with the Rare Books at the
Central Library. So tune in later for the further adventures
of....

Today I am thankful for: being home again. Big, quiet
house, comfortable places to sit and sleep, more bathrooms than
people.

Concept II Holiday Challenge: 59408 meters left to
go.

Posted by dichroic at December 12, 2001 12:59 PM
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