It's another anxiety filled Sunday. Super fun! I just love these evenings when I feel like I haven't done enough and I am about to face another week of entering data into excel endlessly. My friend A called today and said that I am surrounded by too much sadness and I should really spend some time with kids or something. Duly noted.
Recently in trying to have a light hearted afternoon at the mall I fell flat onto my face in public scraping both elbows and knees. Not a soul asked if I was ok. I actually said OW out loud and there was no response other than a faint giggle in the distance. I've written about falling in public before but I have a new perspective on it now. I try to be calm and rational with all kinds of drama around me but sometimes my brain goes a million miles an hour. My behavior turns into a hurricane and the universe decides to trip me up clearly stating, "Bitch stop."
These traits have been inherited by a long line of crazy women. I've already gone over the characteristics of Tsunami Dorit and OCD Grandma. I wish I knew what my great grandmother Bluma was like but from what I understand she was a stone cold workaholic. Grandma told me that her mother never let her out of the house unless everything was spotless and perfectly in place. Since there were four girls in the family they did everything for everyone and to this day my grandma washes, irons, and cleans for.......my uncle. That's right. My nearly 59 year old uncle is cared for as if he was still a child. Grandma is slowly realizing what an awful situation she has put her son in because he is a total chauvinist and claims he has no time to clean or do laundry. Since she can't do as much as she used to anymore, how will he live?
She proudly told me that he dusted his room the other day, even under the bed. He did it all by himself. I told Grandma that there is no reason why he can't take care of himself but she said that it's all her fault. She didn't want her kids to work as hard as she did so she spoiled them to death. The reality of course is that she spoiled my uncle to death and forced my mom to do double the chores. At this stage she expects my mom to do everything for my uncle, the notion of which has brought my mom to near insanity. If she survives this ordeal of my grandma's health declining and my uncle's uncooperative attitude without having a heart attack herself it will be a miracle. I told my grandma the other day that I think Mom is stressed out and I was going to try and take her out a little. Grandma said that she thought it was because Mom is spending too much time gardening. Yeah I'm sure that's it.
Where is my place in all of this? I just listen. I really can't do anything else for them and the more I spend time with these people the more I am stunned at their stupid choices. I listen to my mom complain about how she feels completely stuck in an endless cycle of care taking that she doesn't want to do. I listen to my uncle talk about how he thinks my mom is depressed because she is a huge bitch all the time and how my dad is lazy and unhelpful. I listen to my dad say that they were stupid for staying in the same building with Grandma and Uncle for all these years. I listen to my grandma say anything at all.
Yesterday Grandma and I talked about chopped liver. I don't mind sharing this secret family recipe with you because I think it is gross and I have no desire to make it. We were watching an Israeli Iron Chef type show and one woman made the liver pate from chicken. Grandma was intensely watching her and telling me that it was all wrong.
Grandma made "real" chopped liver from: (get this)
sauteed veal or beef liver in onions
then ground in the food processor attachment
then added finely chopped hard boiled eggs
salt and pepper
and served on rye bread or crackers
Eeeeeeeeeew. I mean she had me until she said that she preferred the eggs to be chopped so they added texture instead of putting them through the grinder as well. Ugh. I just don't have the stomach for this type of rich spread. It sounds like pain to me even if it is tasty at first and frankly I don't believe it is. She went on and on about how good it was and how everyone liked it. This wasn't a dish she could make anymore since her heart attack many years ago. The cholesterol was way too high and the whole family gave up liver then. I was a little girl so if she made it then I have no memory of it. She said that she made designs in the pate so that it was ready for a party tray. She also added hard boiled eggs in the corners of the plate which were decorated by cutting a design into. I can't believe how different my palate is from hers. This is not something that sounds appetizing to me with designed eggs or not.
It's nice to hear her talk about something she is proud of. I bought her a paint by numbers kit which she has zero interest in and I challenged her to fix the Rubik's cube but she has no motivation. She used to be able to fix two sides of the cube but for some reason there is really nothing that sparks much in her these days. If she'd rather talk about chopped liver then that is how I will be involved. I'd rather talk to her about the steamed asparagus I made today with the citrus cayenne glaze but I'll make do.