Originally posted 11/25/2011
This time last year I was spending a conspiratorial week traveling from Orlando to Southern California and then up to Northern California and back with my brother and his bride-to-be to do their wedding. It was meant to be in secret for reasons that escape me at the moment but the plot had been uncovered by older sister Kathie earlier in November, resulting in a lot of hurt feelings and a lot of shrugged shoulders from moi and brother Matt. Family. I guess the secrecy was an ill-fated attempt to keep things simple, and given all of the little elements Marty planned for our few days in Northern California, it wouldn’t have been possible to pull it off given the huge entourage any family event tends to create for us Bustilloses. Ack. We say that we believe in Family but the belief is a lot more manageable in theory than the real thing when planning a four-day adventure/wedding get-a-way in Sonoma.
Oh, that’s good. The first Long Island Ice Tea of the holiday. Yeow. Family festivities begin in an hour with sister Mich, but I swore to myself that I wouldn’t do without football this year. Last few years I’ve done T-Day with the Quinbys, who are not so much about TV and even less about Football. Alas, Taco Beach is closed so I’m at Shannon’s, which is next to TB, and if I don’t get an appetizer or something this LI is going to knock me out. I’m definitely going to be very mellow for the family part of the festivities.
This is becoming something of a holiday tradition for me to re-evaluate my life and alas my social life has been pretty consistently been found wanting. Ack. So, what to do? Come on, it’s me, of course I’m going to work through this with my writing. Problem with this one, however, was whether this particular problem would have been better served with silence instead of writing. Silence. Right. I don’t do silence very well. So, last week I started writing the following note to you-know-who, hoping to address the status of our relationship. At the moment I haven’t heard back from her, and know that I very well might not hear back from her. I hate this shit.