Dry and dark 11-29-03

So it's two in the morning, and I'm rapidly running out of things to drink in this house. I'm home again, and it's pretty much been like that the whole trip; trying to find ways to fit in, valuing the solitude when I can find it.

It's been a very strange Thanksgiving. Not bad, but... estranged, maybe. When I came home I was sitting in the driveway for half an hour because no one was around to let me in the house-- my parents both thought they'd left the door unlocked for me, but it wasn't so. When I do get in, I come into the remodeled landing; what's dark is now light, what's private is now public. They knocked out a wall, repainted, and put in a new desk, but it feels smaller to me where it feels larger to them.

When dad got home I was in for another shock; he's dropped around fifty pounds from the last time I saw him, and taken an interest in his clothes. He looked almost dapper in his stylish (but probably none-too-warm) coat. Mom and dad think he looks good, but in my heart of hearts I can't agree... dad's always been larger-than-life for me, and now he looks like a scarecrow, too tall for his own weight. I haven't been able to tell him; he's so proud of it, and it's a monumental accomplishment.

I rapidly discovered that the house was devoid of things for me to do, eat, drink... I can only read so much in one weekend, Tricia was doing work on the one computer for two days, and I've now seen all the videos (except the Two Towers, which they bought un-extended and fullscreen. Ugh). My mom actually lost track of me enough to buy me Diet Mountain Dew, and was upset when she finally noticed I wasn't drinking it. Plus both my parents are doing something like the Atkins diet and thus there's nothing I wish to eat in the house: not a cracker or a slice of bread in sight.

Thanksgiving dinner was Tuscan-style, honoring my parents' recent vacation... and again, not a total success. I liked it, but my sister couldn't eat the main course and my mom was thusly a little disappointed.

Much of the time when I talked to my parents, I felt like they were grasping in the dark for who I am, and I didn't know how to tell them.

On the plus side, I had at least one conversation with my parents (re: Puff the Italian dragon) where everyone ended up splitting their sides with laughter for ten minutes. Mom got me a silly t-shirt (which is excellent) and two new flannels (which is even better). I got to use the treadmill despite being horrendously out of shape. And yesterday I spent the day with the Lippe clan with Carrie jumping all over me, cracking jokes with Uncle Dan and Aunt Diane. I'm glad that connection hasn't broken... I was worried for a while that it had.

Joey's turned into a right artist while I wasn't paying attention, too. He spent the day by himself, quiet as a churchmouse, working on an intricate map of a land that I'm sure doesn't exist anywhere but his imagination. He still smiles like a sunbeam, but it's rarer now in between looks of determined concentration. I think in a few years he and I will have a lot to talk about.

I haven't written a word of the stories I needed to work on, but I've been building one in my head, image by image. I've continued to hack away a few pages every hour or so of Looking Backwards. I've seen two new movies while I've been home, and took a chance to re-watch The Man with the Golden Gun for the first time in ten years. And I've had several brilliant ideas for Christmas presents while home, none of which have anything to do with my family.

Tomorrow some more time with the Lippes, and then maybe I'll head home. It's about time, I think... there are things I need to do here, but they'd be better served by me waiting a bit to regain my center.

Maybe I'll cook 'em all dinner before Christmas at my place. :)