Twinkle: The Yankee Cousins Need To Be Schooled on the Art of Living

I realize that recently my silence on Daddy Rabbit has been deafening. There's been little to report, because Fun Sink and I seem to have reached an amicable détente. She's been respectful--even nice. And, since I've clearly never been the problem (as all I ever really wanted was for her to treat me like a human being) I've been nice back. And it has been beautiful.

I think something might have changed, though, because my SIL is in town, and y'all know how perfect she is. I'm pretty sure SIL's presence is just going to serve as a reminder to Fun Sink about all my shortcomings. Also, Fun Sink and I bought the same Sofia the First walkie-talkie set for the girls for Hanukkah, and I think she's mad that I didn't offer to take mine back. Whatever--I have to come up with eight nights of this bullsh*t, plus Santa Claus. She, on the other hand, can give my kids one less thing and they will never even notice.

This afternoon was lazy and blissful--I spent it catching up on my magazines. The November and December issues of Southern Living are absolutely sumptuous. (What's up with Martha Stewart Living, by the way? It's been so boring and bland lately I can barely even get through it. The articles are uninteresting and the art direction would make the Baby Jesus cry).

I spent my afternoon looking at pictures of this:

And this:














And this:


















And this:














And reading about decadent party recipes like this and this.

Then we got the call.

The long-awaited arrival of SIL and her family was upon us. We'd planned a homemade pizza and movie night, but that was before we found out that Little Lord Fun Sink was making his inaugural royal visit to the Ville. We piled into the family car and sped to the east end, post haste.

Now, if it had been my house where my children and grandchildren and even a few friends from near and far were gathering, y'all know I would have cracked open a bottle of champagne. And then another one. And what did that one article (the drink cart article) say about cheese straws? Well, the number-one rule was to bring out the cheese straws. I would have brought out some snacks and some cocktails--it just sets a festive tone.

But these are not festive people, and they're just not southern. I think that's what bothers me the most about them, because they're nice and everything (I'm talking about my SIL and her husband). They are nice. So very nice. And so very northern, and they think they are so great and all, with their black clothes and their vegan ways. And, dears, we all know that southerners just do things like decorate and entertain and live in such a superior way, and when people don't understand that (or hold up the opposite as the ideal) it's just very hard to swallow.

We brought in Shiraz for dinner, and I like Shiraz. I do. I love the fatoush salad. And I know that what someone else eats or doesn't eat is not my business, but damn if the vegan thing is not depressing and annoying. I just want to take that skewer of roasted vegetables and shove it where the sun doesn't shine. And then I have to hear Sophie and Eloise have a discussion about whether milk is or is not healthy. Sophie is three years old and is a health food expert, and I don't need her filling my children's heads with her vegan, lactose-free nonsense. Thanks, Sophie, I know water is good for me (and yes, Fun Sink, I heard her say it and it was just soooooooooooo adorable); I think I'll have some bourbon and a Xanax with mine.

It's going to be a long week. The good news is I'll get a fun, healthy vegan birthday Shabbat dinner with them this Friday--just how I want to spend my special day--and maybe even a cake made with soy milk and tempeh.