I just returned last night from a four day trip to see the Lashmets. Here is a detailed account of this horrific experience.
Alison picked me up promptly at the airport. Apparently she didn’t know that I prefer to wait at least 30 minutes in the cold and she robbed me of this pleasure with her timeliness. I also love traffic, long lines, and people who drive slow in the fast lane – all of which are idiosyncracies of mine that I should have made her aware of.
Jackson was accompanying his mother and he looks like the spawn of Nordic angels with his blonde hair and cornflower blue eyes. He’s loving and affectionate and as soon as he sees me he says, “Hi Uncle Eddo!” and smiles brightly – Disgusting. He has a face only a mother and the rest of the world could love. I prefer my nieces and nephews to be collicky and temperamental. I love a tantrum, to be hit in the head with toys, to be poked in the eye and kicked where it counts. Jackson with his sugary sweetness provided none of these delights. Instead he was exhaustingly pleasant to be around. What a bore.
Alison gave me a few options for lunch which upset me almost visably. I had hoped that she would have just provided me with a box of Saltine crackers and no water to go along with my ascetic dietary regimen that I had recently started. Instead she had provided a cold bottle of water upon my arrival and whisked me away to Costa Vida where we feasted on sweet barbecue pork burritos and zesty queso. I had to force down every delicious bite and act as if I was not offended by this display of kindness.
We met John for dinner at an almost vulgar restaurant called “Hacienda”. The tortillas were hand made and quite possibly the best I had ever tasted. I forced myself to eat three of them stuffed with chicken, cheese, grilled onions and guacamole. I was so upset that I barely spoke during the entire meal.
That night I had my own room with a bathroom and an extremely cushy bed. I had requested to sleep on the floor with nothing more than my hands to rest my head on. I pleaded for a bucket and perhaps some dried leaves for a bathroom but they insisted that I sleep on the bed and use these sumptuous bathroom facilities. It was barbaric.
They took me skiing and patiently waited for me and gave me tips on how to ski better. At no point did they laugh or poke fun of me when I had to stop repeatedly because I was exhausted. They never pushed me down the hill or just left me to fend for myself and this is what I prefer when skiing. I like being lost on the side of a cold mountain for days or being stranded at a lift that has already closed. At one point I thought John was going to push me out of the ski lift forcing me to fall 50 feet into snow covered rocks, but that was merely wishful thinking on my part. I left the ski slopes exhausted but without any injuries or broken bones. Yawn.
In the evenings we watched basketball and vegged out on comfortable couches. We played with Jackson and allowed him to entertain us with cuteness so cute you just wanted to smack his face. Try as I might I could not corrupt him. I did teach him to say things like, “Your MY SNOW!” and “I will destroy you!” much to his parents chagrin. I love the mind of a child, so moldable like play-doh, if I only had a few more days with him I could have taught to say, “Back up out my face BIOTCH!” , “I am about to bust you in the mouf!” “Do you want to keep that hand?” and other phrases that are very useful when you are on a playdate or during recess. I guess that will have to wait until my next trip.