I'll Be Late, I Have A Lawsuit

My in-laws are visiting us this weekend. That sentence makes me feel more adult than paying taxes and getting pap smears. They are staying at a hotel nearby because my MIL is allergic to cats and would slowly suffocate to death over the course of the weekend were she to sleep in our spare room, which, I may add, is perfectly comfortable and clean. In case anyone who gave birth to my husband was wondering.

Taking on a whole new group of people that can constantly remind you of what you're doing wrong is difficult, but I have it very very easy and not just because they live far away. I'm lucky in that my husband's parents are really nice to me, very generous and it's fairly easy to keep in touch between visits and I never have to guiltily pick up the phone, guzzle three shots of vodka, and dial their number. Like, I email them on purpose just to say hi sometimes.

There are a couple of barriers we have never really crossed, though. I've never cooked for them, or hosted on my own turf except for that one time a few years ago when they had to make rush travel plans for a holiday weekend because their son and I decided to get married. If only the Affordable Care Act had been in place in 2012, we might have been able to have a worry-free elopement in Bulgaria instead. . .

I'd better break out the fancy hotdogs this weekend.

In the beginning, I got really anxious any time we visited them or visited with them somewhere else (past tense, because clearly I don't anymore). For real, though, how bad could they be? They raised my favorite person and he's pretty ok and good at sports and Simpsons trivia. We used to always bring Truffles to their house with us when we visited, and she'd immediately take a crap on their floor or vomit on a rug somewhere. My husband's dad famously yelled "WHO DID THIS?" to a pile of feces once - like it was one of us or something. Truffles never really has accidents, and I bring her to people's houses all the time when I visit, but not to their house anymore. She just can't keep it together there.

She is going to daycare, not Grandma's

Not that they ever gave me any real signals, or maybe they are good at faking it and I'm not good at reading them - but I always worried they didn't like me. Realistically speaking, my husband could probably actually do a bit better. He has a fairly prestigious job, gets to meet interesting people who could some day get indicted in a juicy public scandal--and yet I still giggle if someone farts unexpectedly (especially if it's me).

So they will be here tomorrow and I'm cleaning and making some goodies while I try to squelch the fear that my goodies will give them diarrhea or e. coli.

One tough "elephant in the room" will be that I've gotten tangled up in my very first lawsuit, thus officially embracing my white trash heritage. I have so many relatives that think "I should sue" on a daily, if not hourly, basis and I'm finally one of them. I will be in court when they arrive to their nice hotel and settle in before coming to my house that I painstakingly (or my husband painstakingly) de-cat-haired and have a glass of peach sangria and eat dairy-free (Jews=lactose intolerant) strawberry chocolate creme pie that hopefully won't kill them or be full of animal dander. The cats like to play in the food processor. Something about the spinning. I should clean that out first. . .

Thanks for driving 14 hours, I'll be late, I have a lawsuit. . .

So yeah, I've got this lawsuit going and my husband's parents are coming and it's supposed to rain a lot, but they like me so it'll be fine that they're cooped up here in close quarters with me eating my cooking and not inhaling too deeply because I may have missed some tumbleweeds of animal hair. I'm not worried at all. They'd probably want to see that new Ted movie, right? I know one thing, this bitch better behave:

I Got Hot-Boxed By A Politician

"Hot-Boxed" is a past-tense verb used to describe a situation in which someone forces you into a one-to-one conversation in which they do all of the talking about the topic of their choice. Unless you are 18, in which case everything just means "to get high." Ever talk to someone who hates their job? They will hot box you about that for like an hour and you can't get a word in edgewise. They will not ask you any questions about yourself and don't even try to give advice, they just want to hot box you. Ever talk to someone who has a gripe about some expensive product they bought for their kid that broke or fell apart? That's a hot-boxin. Ever talk to someone in politics? All they do is hot-box. It's not their fault, their words are so important. . .

I was out with some friends celebrating my birthday when a publicly elected official came over and hot-boxed us. I think he was trying to flirt with my friend, who was dancing in her chair and having a good hair night, but he blew it by hot-boxin' hard. This is a relevant anecdote because it's officially the holiday season - which is also hot-boxing season. During the holiday season, you meet new people and see people you haven't seen in a year or so. That's a lot of time for some heat to build up in their box. They can't wait to see you!

When someone hot-boxes you, just get really close and mouth breathe on them. Your only hope is to make them uncomfortable - unless they are already doing that to you, in which case you'll need to take more forceful measures: fake a heart attack, a phone call, choking, a leg cramp, or a miscarriage.

I am not sure if I'm in for any hot-boxing this week, because I'm headed to my husband's home State for my first Thanksgiving with the in-laws. One of the more challenging parts of marriage is that you basically take on a whole second family who, like your original family, gets to be disappointed and annoyed with everything you do.

Yay, a second jury to contend with!

As far as in-laws go, I have it easy because mine live far away and never come visit. Holiday travel sucks, and I'm worried I'll miss something important at home, like a coupon for a discounted gluten-free pizza. With my own family, if I lose my temper, I know I'll be forgiven if I yell at someone or slap them in a fit of frustration (sometimes that Macy's Parade really pisses me off), but I'm not clear on whether that's cool with my husband's family. Also, this week is my sister's due date and we are getting a second one of these:

Yeeeeeeeee!!!! Happy Thanksgiving!