Even if things get bit too heavy, we'll all float on alright

Before I go anywhere with this, I'd like to take a moment and point out that writing by hand really blows a big one. On the way down to Va. friday, BF slept the entire time. Chuck the truck has no stereo. So i was left to my own devices to stay awake even though it was three o'clock in the morning. I wrote a song in my head and sang it over and over and over and over and over and over and over... you get the gist. Well last night, I thought it'd be a good idea to write it down. My cousin, who is visiting, was on my computer so I was forced back into the dark ages to locate pen and lined paper. The damn song isn't even one whole page and by the end of it, I had a cramp in five fingers, one hand and one wrist. How crazy is that!?! {Ohhh, super crazy Amanadoo} In high School I used to write like dozens of pages by hand.

But I digress.

The trip, overall, was very nice. My Granny and everyone else on Mom's side of the fam adores BF. Why wouldn't they? He's quiet, cute as a button, funny and, like I said, his ears turn pink when he's embarrased.

But my grandma on Dad's side would not concur. See, in her eyes, I should not be with someone that's even a smidge younger than me (she's old school...she figures I need someone who can, quote, "take care of me, not the other way around.") So basically, I should be with a college man. Or a career man. I see her point. OF COURSE I see her point. But she doesn't get that you know, BF and I have like a real relationship. We've had major problems, but somehow, some way, we work them out for the sake of something really great. And, uhm, PS- Amanadoo does not need to 'be taken care of.' I like it when it happens, but it's certainly absurd to venture so far as needing it. You understand.

But the real bitch of the matter is that my very old-school grandma was very, very, shockingly rude. The four of us- BF, me, her and my grandpa- were sitting at the kitchen table. Grandma literally didn't say anything to BF. Instead she turned her back on him (completely unnecessary* since it was a round table) and began barraging me with questions and answers about my immortal soul. I tryed my very most charming best to lighten the converstaion, but she was adamant. She hard-core loves Jesus. I've never had the heart nor the strength of will to tell her that I completely disagree with the church I was raised in. Half because it would break her heart (I really do understand that she loves by leading others in the way of Christ.) and half because I just plain don't feel like having to hear about my hell-bound lifestyle all the time, thanks.

But anyway, at the kitchen table she went on and on about said hell-bound lifestyle and how I've rejected Jesus Christ, which is unforgivable, but if I'd just ask forgiveness and bhave in a manner fitting for a closer walk with thee (the big thee), I'd get it and be loved by God forever and ever Amen. She made several references to my sex life (or that is, the fact of my sex life), pointing behind her at BF a few times.

My grandpa just sat there. Bf just sat there--extremely uncomfortable. I just wanted to cry because I hadn't wanted it to be like that. I've never been under attack like that from her, though I've witnessed the various ways she's been able to break the will of her five kids. And now me. I knew she was just trying to prove some kind of point, and that in her mind, she was only helping me. Everyone had warned BF that Grandma was going to be very mean and rude and condescending. But I love her very much and I'd wanted BF to see how great she really is. But it was not to be.

Eventually she turned to BF and demanded to know if he went to church. When he was honest (he easily could have lied) and said 'no,' she demanded to know why. It seemed that when my Grandpa interjected "Hey man, now you're getting nailed," he wasn't just being funny. His drawing the line at her jumping down BFs throat was palpable. Grandpa and I both knew that she had the words left in her to give BF a good spiritual ass kicking, but she didn't. Instead she laid it on me again.

Then all of a sudden, like she was tired of looking at me, she instructed BF and I to go sit in the den. Of course, we just wanted to leave, but did as told. But we only stayed five or ten minutes after that.

And right before we left to come back home, we stopped there for 10 minutes to say goodbye. Just long enough for her to insult me over changing my mind about school and career choices and Spain. And completely dog hair styling as a profession. She didn't just say "if you did something else, you'd have better access to benefits like insurance," she completely put me down about it. So, of course, I couldn't talk to her about how excited I am about the whole thing or about the various reasons I made the decision I made. I mentioned to Grandpa that I couldn't wait to get the kit with my scissors and all that good stuff on the first day of school. She said "phhh' and something about how that stuff is cheap. The only thing either of them said to BF that time was "why do you fold your socks into your shoes like that?" He explained that he needed to get the smaller socks that don't go half way up your leg. Grandma said "phh, mm-mmm."

So, when we were leaving and BF said "Nice to meet you," everyone knew he was lying.

Other than that, the trip was very nice. Some stats:

# of tanks of gas it takes Chuck the truck to get from here to Virginia--3/4 of one...

# of bug bites Amanadoo recieved--at least 39...

# of bites that ASS (that's 2 people), my nephew, my brothers dad and BF, all of whom were right next to me, recieved-- FIVE! All together they got freaking five...

# of fire crackers we set off in the street--80 something...

# of professional (or professional looking at least) fireworks displays we saw standing out in front of ASS's house, which is was up on a mountain--4...

# of nights BF and I stayed with ASS-- 1...

# of nights BF and I stayed in a hotel-- 2...

# of nights I foolishly told Dick Lucas we were staying at ASS's house-- 3...

# of cousins it takes to spill the beans that you and your boyfriend stayed at a hotel when you went to Virginia-- 1...

# of seconds it takes for Dick Lucas to get utterly, totally pissed off-- point 93...

# of mentrations it takes to ruin the perfect opportunity you and your boyfriend had to make sweet, sweet love in a hotel room-- 1...

# of times you can explain that you and your boyfriend only got a hotel room because you love being able to be completely alone and sleep cuddled up next to each other and not to make sweet, sweet love (which you do all the time anyway under less favorable circumstances and he should just chill out cuz you're not gonna stop) to your Dad-- 0.

Ahhh...cousins.