‘Tis a beautiful spring day, it is. The sun is shining, the birds are being chased away by the grackles (a particularly vicious sort of bird we have here in Austin that doesn’t play well with others), the bees are buzzing about in the garden (thus preventing me from weeding, since stinging insects are my childhood phobia that never went away), and I’m blogging about it whilst being anti-social. My in-laws are here, and their departure tomorrow will be followed shortly afterwards by the arrival of my own parents, and if we can survive eight days with both of our parents in town, we should be able to manage Mexico City (that’s my thought, at any rate).
I’ve always had a rather tense relationship with Ray’s family. They don’t particularly approve of his lifestyle (especially the part where he sleeps with boys), and since I am the boy in question, my relationship with them was doomed even before we met. Things could always be worse. They could have written him out of their lives (they didn’t), they could spend the entirety of their twice-annual visits quoting chapter and verse of Scripture informing me why we’re both going to burn in hell (they don’t, which is good because I’d have to tell them that I’m an atheist and I’m sure that would go over like a pregnant pole vaulter), and they could just be downright rude to me, and they’re not. They don’t treat me badly at all. They tolerate my presence kind of like the brother-in-law that you never thought was good enough for your sister but it’s her life so when he shows up at family gatherings you’re nice to him because he’s nice to you.
My own parents are the polar opposite and sometimes seem a little too enthusiastic (this is how my mother is in general), which has its own issues. My mother has been known to call and talk to Ray for hours, without even asking to speak to me, and Ray does wish that my dad would stop calling and asking for technical support with his HP laptop (because Ray works for Dell).
So, Ray and his family have spent the entire weekend shopping — I’m a little broke since payday fell on a Sunday this month, so I elected not to go to the outlet mall with them. When they’re here, they’re watching movies or television.
It’s just as well that Rome ended last weekend because I don’t think they’d appreciate our hoots of appreciation whenever James Purefoy or Allen Leech show some skin (depressingly little in the last instance. He never went the full monty like James).
Oh, well. They’ve caught us up on Lost now — and, hey, I was right! Rodrigo Santoro did kick it … eventually … and that was just a nasty little twist on the part of the writers. Although it still wasn’t quite as disturbing as the revelation that “All Along the Watchtower” is apparently a universal song — literally — as was revealed in the season finale of Battlestar Galactica (which decided to end the pointless family angst subplot in the last episode … sigh … )
At any rate. I hope you’re having a good weekend, wherever you are, and that the sun is shining, the birds are singing, and the bees are minding their own business!
Anyway. I’m also in this weird musical rut — this happens with me, where I acquire or two CDs and wind up listening to them over and over and over and over and over again to the exclusion of just about everything else. At the moment, my iPod is probably tired of playing Eros Ramazzotti’s album 
