San Diego, Part Deux
One of the reasons we went to So Cal this past weekend was to attend Seymour's Grandmother's 90th birthday party. She insisted on having it at her club in Newport Beach, so for me it was a reluctant side trip back behind The Orange Curtain.
I'd been sighing for months at the thought of this gig. The dress code was "summer cocktail," which is a challenge for a body who prefers dumpy togs from Old Navy/BR (where I know my sizes and can order everything online. hate. shopping. hate. shopping.). Last week I finally crumpled, went to The Mall, found a semi-cool skirt and top before I hyperventilated, and shot out of there like a rocket. When I got home I realized that the top was beige--a color I'd promised myself to never buy again since it highlights the monstrous, disproportionate size of my bosom (lassies who think they want big tits are just so misinformed, but that's a rant for another day). Ah, well.
The party, thrown by hostess extraordinaire Seymour's mom, was lovely and tolerable. I hate socializing except with the pre-selected few and so was indebted to the open bar. I should probably thank my kids, too--having to watch them meant I didn't have to talk to anyone unless the kids knocked over their drink. Instead I got to hang with my parents and in-laws, while Seymour did all the hive-inducing mingling.
Grandmother M was in top form--she is the healthiest, most vibrant nonagenarian west of the Mississippi. She shows no signs of slowing down, either, and in fact celebrated this birthday by going hot air ballooning. She has no sense of humor when she gives instructions, though, and so was miffed when she spotted a present tucked under my arm (she'd specified NO GIFTS). When I explained it was for Seymour's dad she relented (I'm not sure what she would have made of it anyhow; it was an Iz's Favorite Things drawing of a dragon, a flower, a TV, and Darth Vader). I hope I look and feel like that lady when I'm 90, and am tickled that Seymour and the kids carry her genes.
Other party tidbits: the youngest aunt totally dissed my mom! With an insincere, split-second greeting followed by the presentation of her back! Despite her conservative views and potshots at my parenting skills, my mother is a compassionate, good-hearted woman and NO ONE gets to disrespect her but her children. Normally I would march right over and slaughter that cow, but everyone was watching. Can't stand people like the aunt who think they're better than everyone else just because they stepped in a big pile of money that they did absolutely nothing to earn. My mom was bummed until I reminded her that everyone likes her.
Spent quite a lot of time talking to J, one of Seymour's cousins. Sweet guy. Boy, does he love Everquest. He made it sound so fun that I figured hey, why not, I'll give it a shot. Only to check the site and realize that--duh, it's a PlayStation game and I haven't had a console since my Atari 2600. Guess I'll stick with Kookin' Kidz.
The post-party day was my last in San Diego, so we hopped around the beach one last time and then went to lunch with some of Seymour's dad's relatives. I could spend all day with Uncle T--the man was born & bred in SD and knows the surrounding seas better than anyone but Neptune (side note: every time we went to the beach, Iz asked "Does Neptune know I'm coming?"). Uncle T still knows where to find abalone and ten-pound lobsters. Useful person. I love useful people.
Then it was off to the airport for a snorfly goodbye from Iz and Co. Uneventful flight. Was feeling peevish (escalating PMS, no more beach) and so decided to torture a random innocent by leaving that stupid Bill Bryson book on the plane.
Came home to the scent of a neglected cat box. Home! Back to the ABA grind. And by the time Seymour and Iz are back I will miss them.