meet the fockers

Saturday we went to his house for his sister's anniversary party. There were a million family members, in-laws, god-parents, family friends, pastries, and neighbors. Way, way overwhelming. Way.

But really, really nice. I made friends with neice and reigning Cutest-Kid-Ever Arielle, which was a personal and highly satisfying goal. We bonded over her strobic ring and my sequin shoes. I talked with Steph who is the sister of my old USY advisor Erica, WHO I LOVE. I talked with honored sister about whoknowswhat and dad about Queer As Folk actors and mom about her delicious pastries and notorious TIOH personalities. Brother wasn't there because he broke his nose in two places at a roudy synogogue baseball game last week.

I met several aunts and grandparents and brother-in-law-in-laws, and I came away with this feeling of it must be really nice to have so much family nearby. Neither my mother's nor my father's families live on this coast (or country), and I was always a little jealous of those friends who grew up with their relatives. Sure, there is putting up with crazy Aunt Marylin who never stops talking, but there is also recognition and fraternity among cousins.

I had a long talk with Jodi in which I divulged how happy I am right now, and then we sat on the stairs and watched the boy greet his relatives. I'm very aware that he knows about this page and checks it periodically, and I'm trying not to edit, but dang it's hard when you want to spill everything but know it's for the best to keep some inside. It's a daily back-and-forth about what constitutes GOOD PACING. If I've learned anything in the past three months it's that I can't rush things.

Oh, and let me not forget the zamboni action that took place this weekend at the Orange apt. It rules.