Harvey-purrs and punctuation, erin_o.

Peace and stress-relief~ma to Shir's dad, and her whole family.

Cranberry~ma for Teppy.

OH HAI Minnesota. (Apologies to Daniel and other Midwesterners, but my experience confirms that behavior.)

One of the residents I work with is sooooooo this. She will walk up and say, "I don't need an aspirin."

Then we have to go through a whole litany of, "Do you want one?"

"No. Maybe I can have one tomorrow."

"Where does it hurt?"

"Nowhere."

"Is your (insert various arthritic joints and other known issues) bothering you?"

"Maybe just a little."

"Point to where it hurts." Which she may or may not do. Or perhaps five minutes after convincing me that she is not actually in any discomfort and had been just flapping her gums to make conversation, she will say, "My shoulder hurts. I'm sorry to bother you. Can I have an aspirin?"

On the other hand, anything she complains about outright? Total attention-getting behavior. So we steer her to things like applying Ben Gay or using sweet oil ear drops, or I make her "Special Medicine"by mixing different juices with water.

I will not deal with people who shout. Hubby is from a family who shouts, and I have been known to get in the car and drive away, then come back in half an hour and ask if the conversation can be conducted in a civlized manner. He'll talk to me quietly and viciously, but I can cope with that. Shouting just makes my mind shut down and feels like a failure of language and communication.

At least he's never done the "Don't you dare walk away from me" thing, because that would get responded to with, "Ok, you walk away. I hope you'll be able to find somewhere to live."

I will not be shouted at. By anyone.

Cranberry~ma for Teppy.

I'm peeing bright orange! I expected it, and yet it's disconcerting.

I expected it, and yet it's disconcerting.

Nice, cheery, medicinal orange is ok by me, in comparison to brick red.

I'm with you on the shouting, connie. DH's family is big and loud and competitive. I'm a wreck by the time I finish a family get together. My family is quiet and serene. My oldest sister and I speak our minds, but the rest of them don't. Still, we speak our minds quietly and calmly.

He'll talk to me quietly and viciously, but I can cope with that.

That is exactly what I can't cope with. My husband once said "you don't have to raise your voice" to me in the middle of an argument and my reaction was exactly like yours to shouting, like all the gears in my brain just locked up. I'm pretty quiet most of the time, but emotion does crank up the volume. It kind of is a failure of language, but language fails me, sometimes.

funny we are having this shouting/communicating discussion now. A LJ friend up in bay area is having serious marriage problems. Less than a year already, and he SCREAMS at her. She is quiet, bookworm, nerdy, church mouse type of gal. She's resorted to yelling back. He's kicked her out of the apartment several times now. This time, she is staying out. But considering moving back in, for the marriage. He says "none of my past gf's ever were like this, you are different". Apparently he was mr nice guy during dating. They waited till married to move in, to have sex, and, apparently, to scream at each other. It's rough. I'm trying to convince her to get a lawyer, or at least marriage counseling.

Man, Omnis, that is rough.

waves

So, it's half three in the morning in Britain. I fell asleep around 5pm, so I'm wide awake now. It's about 9am in Bangkok, so I reckon that's okay - I don't mind staying on Bangkok time, since I'll be back in a few days.

So - lovely to be back with the family. Yesterday my parents' house guests were still here - I arrived in the UK Saturday lunchtime, and weesisterJay & her lovely boyfriend of 2 years (whom I've never met) picked me up at Manchester airport. That evening everyone went out to the Rotary Presidential Evening do, but I stayed home, had a bath and then flaked out, after 23 hours of travel on top of a full day at work (and 4 hours stuck in traffic in the monsoon, trying to get the cat to the cattery and then get to the airport, and VERY VERY VERY nearly missing my plane).

Yesterday was the farewell dinner thing - every year my father's Rotary Club either hosts the Rotary Club from Neede, in Holland, or else they visit them; this year the Dutch were visiting us. My parents have been hosting the same couple (or visiting them) for about 20 years, so even though my grandmother died just before they arrived, my mum didn't want to disrupt the 'Dutch Weekend'. Plus, it's been a blessed distraction for her. Anyway, yes - the funeral's on Tuesday, but in the meanwhile they've been doing all this social fun stuff with old friends.

Anyway - yesterday, beautiful sunny day, farewell luncheon being hosted at this gorgeous house in the country with a stunning garden. Much chatter and leisurely consumption of food and drink. And this Dutch bloke, who introduces himself as "Kissy Tony", sits down at the table where weeSisterJay and I are sitting with one of the British Rotarians, while other people drift around, and he's all fucking Spanish Inquisition tastic. Has his hand on the (female) Rotarian's knee so she has to tell him to remove it, and is then quizzing my sister on her relationship with her boyfriend (who's in attendance at the event, but is busy watching the Grand Prix with various other folks at this point), and asks me if I'm dating. Which, frankly, who the fuck are you and what business is it of yours? But being British, of course I don't say that.
"No," I say.
"And have you ever dated?" he says.
"Not in Bangkok," I say politely.
"But she - your sister is living with her boyfriend," he says.
"No I'm not," says my sister.
"Er - no, they live in different countries," I say.
"Yes," says weeSister.
"Ah, but you're together every weekend!" Dutchguy informs my sister, inaccurately. "And you're sleeping together, right?" We both just stare at him. "I mean, you're both in the same bed now, in your parents' house?"
"Yes, Heidi," I say, turning to stare at my sister, somewhat bug-eyed. "Do tell us all about your sex life. Actually, let's get everyone over here to hear all the juicy details of what you get up to in bed."
"We have bunk beds," she says, rolling her eyes. "We're just penpals. This is the first time we've ever met."
"Ho ho. But you've never lived with someone?" he asks me. "I mean, in a straight relationship?" I blink.
"Actually, this is the first time I've ever lived on my own," I say. "But, no, I've never lived with someone I was in a relationship with." At which point the other woman at the table manages to wave my mother over and forces her to talk to Obnoxious Guy and distract him from us.

Seriously? I mean...SERIOUSLY? Social skills?

I really wish that I had given him a blunt and crushing put-down, but there you are - all three of us were sitting there crippled by this whole Anglo Saxon politeness thing, where you might find yourself taking the piss and getting sarcastic, but actually saying "Sorry, I realise that you are old and ugly and that talking about our sex lives may be interesting to you, but all three of us are frankly disgusted by your lack of courtesy. Kindly fuck off and die" simply isn't thinkable at the time.

Wow, Fay. That guy had a ridiculous lack of social skills.

Re: cranberry, i sometimes also go for cranberry concentrate pills, easier to choke down than real cranberry juice. When i do the real juice, i usually dilute it heavily with fizzy water and a sqeeze of lime. Vodka doesn't hurt ;)