Updates galore!

Well, belated Happy New Year everyone!  Apparently the Mayan calendar ends in 2012, which some ding dong has taken to mean the world will also end this year, sooooo, make it count everyone!!!  Take that awesome trip!  Knit that gorgeous yarn!  Buy those fabulous shoes!!  Eat all those french fries!  Oh, wait, that’s my list of 2012 resolutions.  Heh.

But in all seriousness.  I don’t for a moment believe that the world is ending because the Mayan time cycle is done.  But I do plan to live a more interesting life.  Maybe interesting isn’t the word I’m looking for.  A more active life?  Well sort of.  I think what I’m trying to say is that I want to be more engaged this year.  To get out more, even if it’s just walks in my ‘hood.  To try new things…new recipes, new craft projects. To step, just a little, outside my comfort zone.  And of course lose all that weight I gained since I got married.  Those 55lbs are getting to be a real pain to carry around.

So what’s been happening since I last posted?  Well, the stairs are done.  And they look FANTASTIC!  I’ll take a picture if it stays sunny for more than 12 minutes.  And figure out how to post it too.  But I’m really quite pleased with myself and the way they look.  The brown isn’t as chocolate-y as I thought it would be, but you know, it’s ok.  I can live with it.  Because I am not painting them again anytime soon.

My Great Stash Knitdown of 2011 was a big success.  My goal was to use up 111 balls/skeins of yarn from my stash.  I smashed that and ended up knitting 128 balls.  GOOOOOOOOO me!  I also ended up buying 46 balls of yarn this year so technically I only knit 82 balls.  But whatever.  That’s still a lot of yarn.  And I’m not counting the stuff I gave away.  That counts for at least 10 balls.  I think.

This year my goal is to knit 150 balls.  And buy under 20 balls.  My stretch goal is 175 but we’ll see.  So far I’m only at one ball but I’ve got a few things on the go.  I might not make either goal but I will be whittling down my stash and that’s a good thing.

I also plan to knit for me this year.  And for those who appreciate it.  LIKE MY FAMILY.  ahem.  This Christmas I gave the outlaws and my family food gifts.  I spent a week in the kitchen canning and baking.  The outlaws were not so impressed.  My family was pretty happy.  The end result?  I’d rather bake four loaves of bread in my bread maker and can marmalade than kill myself trying to knit for people who won’t wear what I  make.  Christmas 2012 is gonna be all about homemade but it’s gonna be fast homemade.  And if you don’t like it, re-gift.  Everyone likes baked goods and homemade jam.

On the job front, things are maybekindasorta looking up.  Cross your fingers for me.  Being home is awesome but having a regular pay cheque is also awesome.  I’ll keep you posted.

On the inlaw front, they seem more subdued.  Not sure why but I’m not questioning it. Of course, this could be the calm before the storm.  I figure I’ll enjoy it while I can because when the sh!t hits the fan, well, it gets ugly.

Overall I’m pretty stoked about 2012.  I really think it’s going to be a good one.  And I’m going to do my best to make it a good one.  And maybe that’s half the battle.

Partypooper

It is no secret that I do not care for my in-laws.  I have not-so-affectionately nicknamed them the “outlaws” and I frequently wish they’d drop off the face of the earth.  She has a special talent for annoying the snot out of me with her passive-aggressive behaviour and him, well, he’s just a jerk.

And it’s also no secret that holidays are angst-filled for us.  And likely for most couples.  Where to eat the holiday meal and who to eat it with causes all sorts of anguish.  Christmas and Easter never fail to elicit huge battles that last for days.  But not Thanksgiving.  Thanksgiving has never been a problem for us.  For one simple reason.

It’s our anniversary and we made it very clear to both families that we’d celebrate it how we wanted to.  Which meant, with each other and far away from both sets of parents.  My parents have been ok with this.  His parents, well, his mother at least, connives every year to get us to have Thanksgiving dinner with them.  And every year we’ve managed to avoid it.

This year is different.  We had planned to go to New York City for an extra-long weekend.  But, with me being laid off, New York being expensive and money not as free-flowing as it could be, we decided to give the Big Apple a miss.

So, we thought we’d head up to the cottage for a weekend of romantic bedroom painting.  Which is not a euphemism.  We were planning on painting two of the bedrooms up there.  But the couple who is currently renting the place, decided to stay up there instead of going home to their families.  Which means they probably don’t like their in-laws much either.

For the first time in five years we had a conundrum.  Each family celebrates on Sunday.  We knew from our first Christmas as a couple that two turkey dinners in one day was not going to happen.  Where would we eat turkey?  And who would we eat it with?

Because the Hubs had invited his parents up to the cottage last month and I had the distinct displeasure of spending three days with them in a small house (that’s a wank for another post) and I’m still harbouring violent tendencies from that time, I decided that for everyone’s safety (and my sanity), we’d each spend Thanksgiving with our own family.  I was fine with it.  The Hubs was fine with it.  My family was fine with it.  I figured his would be too.

I knew it would just be me and my mom since my sister and her family will be celebrating Thanksgiving with her on Saturday.  But the Hubs doesn’t know this.  He thinks, and I’m not dissuading him of the notion, that my entire family will be at my parents’ house on Sunday.  He does know that my dad will be at work though.  His entire family will be at his uncle’s house and while I really enjoy his aunt and uncle’s company, I’m still having some trouble suppressing the urge to kick my FIL in the head.  Which is why he’s going alone.

Or he was until yesterday.  Last night the Hubs went to his parents’ for dinner.  He mentioned the holiday plans to his parents and his mom told him that married couples should be together on the holidays so he’d have to go with me to my family’s dinner.  WHAT?!  The dinner which my mom was making special for me?  (Her breaded chicken breasts that I love more than any other food in the world.)  The dinner that was just going to be me and my mom?  The dinner where I didn’t have to cook or clean up or watch what I said?  The dinner where I was planning on gossiping and complaining about the outlaws?  The dinner where I was going to laze around afterwards and knit to my heart’s content?  Yes that very dinner.  And afterwards he wants to go to see his family for coffee so I still have to see the outlaws.  CRAP!

So now we’re in damage control mode.  We’ve concocted stories as to why my sister and her family won’t be there.  We’ve changed the menu.  We’ve basically made it no fun.  I keep telling the Hubs he’s more than welcome to go on to his family’s dinner.  That no one in my family will hold it against him for not showing up.  But he’s not listening to me.

Way to go MIL.  You’ve managed to poop a party you weren’t even invited to.  And once again you’ve guaranteed that I continue to be not thankful for having you in my life.

 

Ah, it all makes sense now

So this past weekend’s outlaw drama (f’ing link won’t insert….scroll down if you want to read about it) was sort of resolved on Monday night in a rather surprising turn of events.

My MIL, who annoys the snot out of me most of the time, was not to blame for most recent bout of outlaw asshattery.  Whaaaaaaat?!  I know.  While the MIL is responsible for about 93% of the drama in my life, I can’t pin this one on her.  This time it was the FIL.  Yep, the FIL.

Turns out, unbeknownst to me of course, that I’m in the wrong.  I don’t show him the proper “respect” that a daughter-in-law (or Mafia capo apparently) should.  I don’t enter their house with gandiose “heeeeellloooooos” (think that Seinfeld episode with the Big Ball of Oil…ya, you know the one).  Instead of taking my coat and shoes off upon immediately entering their house, I should instead be rushing (with dirty outside shoes) into the living room and genuflecting in his presence.

Well, ok, the genuflecting probably is going too far (only a bit though) but I should be IMMEDIATELY offering my greetings.  I should also ask about his day, what his plans are for the remainder of the week and I DEFINITELY have to sit, in rapt attention, while he pontificates about things I could care less about or tells my husband he’s an idiot for not agreeing with him. And I should not expect the FIL to ever ask about me, my day, my job, my friends or my family.  None of those things matter now that I have married into his family.  Oh, also I’m forgetting that it’s also my fault that we have no children.  Also, as a woman, I am automatically a lesser being and forget the fact that I have three degrees and eight years of post-secondary education, I am an idiot, I am always wrong and I never know what I’m talking about.  That last bit wasn’t exactly stated this time round, but it’s pretty obvious how my FIL thinks.

You know, as my dad says, you can’t fix stupid.  Arguing with it doesn’t work either.

Can we go back to the MIL being the dramatic one?  That was much easier to deal with.

Again with the drama

It’s been a while since the outlaws acted up so I guess I was due. 

Let’s go back to Friday shall we?  After some annoying (yet thankfully still under warranty) car trouble and a very very VERY long week I was exhausted and fell asleep, without dinner, at 6:30 pm on the office futon.  With the cat.  Around 9pm I went up to bed (sans cat) and slept until midnight.  And of course, after sleeping for nearly six hours, I couldn’t fall back to sleep.  After lying in bed and listening to the Hubs snore and groan and mumble I got up, went downstairs, knit a while, read a while and purged some recipes and patterns that I’ve had kicking around forever, before going back to bed at 4am.

I woke up around 9am Saturday morning and came downstairs for coffee.  I’m still more tired than normal given my weirdo sleep the night before but I spoke with the Hubs for a bit and then settled in the living room to knit a dishcloth while I waited for him to leave for the day.  Along with his parents, he was going on a visit-ALL-the-cousins-north-of-the-big-city trip and would be gone all day and for much of the evening.  The outlaws were told to arrive for 10am and the three of them would leave post-haste.

As an aside, for the past few years I’ve refused to go on these jaunts as a) I don’t want to give up my Saturday visiting his family b) I don’t like many of these cousins and c) figure if I’m going to get insulted or told what to do by virtual strangers I’d rather have it happen at work where I’m both getting paid AND not giving up my valuable free time.  Yes the Hubs was a little pissy he had to go “alone” but he’s finally figured out how far he can push me when it comes to non-command performance family events so he was sucking it up.

At 9:25 I heard a soft knocking on our door (we don’t have a doorbell and the Hubs hasn’t been “in the mood” to put up the door knocker yet) and I told him to answer it as I was in my pj’s and I couldn’t be arsed to get up or put aside my knitting.  Besides, at that time of the day it’s likely someone we didn’t want to speak to andI’d rather he give the Jehovah’s Witnesses/door-to-door marketers the brush off.

How right I was.  It was someone I didn’t want to talk to…it was his mom.  She’s standing on our front porch, telling him that they’re here (35 minutes early) and that they’ve parked on the next street (instead of in our empty-for-this-reason) driveway since they didn’t want to “inconvenience” me.  WTF?  Hubs tells his mom not to be silly and to come inside. She refuses.  He raises his voice and tells her again to come inside.  She once again refuses.  She then asks him if he’s ready to go.  He’s standing in the doorway wearing warm-up pants and a sweatshirt and he tells her no, he’s still eating breakfast and has to shower, shave and get dressed, all of which he was expecting to do in the next 35 minutes before they were supposed to arrive AT 10 AM.  She tells him she’ll be in the car with the FIL.  From my seat in the living room I do a mental eye roll and keep knitting.

Hubs comes in and we give each other the WTF look and he proceeds to finish eating breakfast before getting ready.  He leaves 10 mintues early, kisses me goodbye and tells me he’ll be home around 10pm.  Which is fine with me since I’m going to my sister’s house to help babysit my nieces and don’t expect to home until then either.

My day progresses nicely.  I knit a bit of a pair of socks I’m making, I sort through some yarn, I look at some patterns in myqueue, I eat a leisurely dinner.  It’s a delightful day.  Then I drive off to my sister’s house, get greeted like a rock star by three little girls, proceed to have two of them “help” me knit and play some Angry Bird on my sister’s iPad.  It’s a nice night all around.

Turns out the Hubs came home much earlier than anticipated and I got home much later than anticipated but whatever, we had no plans and neither of us was particularly put out.  We go to bed and I sleep and sleep and sleep.  DST always knocks me for a loop..

So, we’re sitting around the living room later in the morning on Sunday and I ask Hubs what the hell was up with his parents yesterday and why didn’t they a) park in our driveway and b) come into the house and wait.  Not that it was super cold outside but why wait in a car when you can sit on a comfortable sofa and drink coffee?  He tells me that his parents didn’t want to inconvenience me.  What?  Again with the not wanting to inconvenience me business?  Yes, seeing them is an inconvenience but really, they couldn’t sit in my house for half an hour?  Sure it’s not super tidy but whatever.  There was fresh coffee and I could have scraped up bagels or cookies or something to nibble on. 

Nope he says, they didn’t want to bother you.  Which is weird.  This is the second time this year they haven’t wanted to come in our house.  Clearly I’ve done something to annoy them, but in her classic passive-agressive fashion the MIL won’t tell me what it is and now I’m being “punished” by not seeing them.  Which is ironic and hilarious but whatever floats your boat lady.

Then, and here’s where the real drama starts, Hubs tells me that I should ask them tonight (at our twice a month scheduled dinner) to come to our house for dinner. 

I’m surprised you didn’t hear the F#CK NO! in your town.  I reminded him that we asked his parents over not so long ago.  Together.  At their house.  His parents refused.  Several times.  He argued with them and they dug their heels in and said no.  So we left it.  For whatever reason they didn’t want to eat with us in our house.  No skin off my nose. 

Now Hubs says, they don’t feel comfortable coming over (despite having been over for coffee AND dinner several times in the past three years) and need to be invited over several times before they say yes.  Umm are they vampires?  Is this is a scene from The Lost Boys where Max the Head Vampire has to be invited to cross the threshold?  Can I expect my inlaws to want to suck my blood the next time I see them?

So the Hubs tells me to just ask them and I tell him fine, seeing as how I’m not going to win this argument, but if his mother says no, this is THE VERY LAST TIME EVER that I will invite them to our house.  He can invite them but I will never again issue an invitation.  Ever. 

And since we’re scrapping I figure hey, I may as well make this a full blown fight, and tell him that I’m actually insulted that they preferred to sit in a cold car rather than come in our house and talk to me.  And he says ok, tell my mom that.  Fine.  I.  Will.  And you can bet, with his blessing to let it all out, I won’t be subtle about it either.  Six years of slights and passive-agressive BS is coming to an end.  Either she backs down or I do.  And I’m not backing down.

At the very worst, they  accept and come for dinner….in June which is the next time we have a free Saturday.  And at the very best she says no and I am forever off the hook for cooking for them ever again.  Best of all though, the Hubs will be sitting there watching.  I’ll mention it over dinner.  Captive audience and he can watch his parents squirm when I ask them if my house is not good enough to sit in and my coffee is not good enough to drink. 

Oh my darling husband.  Be careful what you ask for.  I didn’t work with a thousand lawyers in my former life and not pick up a few tricks.  Cross your fingers for me.  And watch the news at 11.  Hopefully the lead story isn’t about a 30 something Librarian who has gone postal.  I don’t look good in orange.

So that was Christmas

Christmas is not my best season.  I haven’t liked it for years.  I find it stressful and disappointing and far too busy for my liking.  I wish I could go to sleep November 30th and wake up on January 1.

Christmas lost its allure for me at a young age.  I think was 7 when I realized that my mom’s handwriting looked an awful lot like Santa’s.  And his boots, which left imprints in the ash of our fireplace, were exactly the same size as mine.  And had the same sole.  Also, Santa for some strange reason, liked to leave his presents for us in the linen cupboard…which was accessed regularly by us all and right between my room and my sister’s.  So yeah, Christmas lost a bit of sparkle when I was young.

It became further tarnished when it became obvious I never got what I wanted.  One year, I think I might have been 15, I fell in love with a floor-length black velvet skirt.  Emminently practical for a 15 year old right?  Not so much.  I pined for that skirt.  Never a day went by when I didn’t mention how I would die if I didn’t have that skirt.  I pictured myself floating down the 6 steps separating the bedrooms from the main floor and into the dining room in my fancy new skirt on Christmas Day.  Didn’t matter I didn’t have a top to wear with it.  Didn’t matter that we never dressed for dinner in my house.  And it totally didn’t matter that within seconds of sitting down half my dinner would be in my lap.  No, I wanted, nay I NEEDED that skirt.  Instead I got a gold necklace.  And likely that’s why I don’t wear yellow gold to this day.

I still don’t get great gifts for Christmas.  Mostly this is my fault as I don’t ask for much.  Out of consideration for other people’s finances, I try to keep my present requests under $50.  Which you would think would be plenty of money to buy a nice gift.  Sure, if you like getting towels and sheets every year like the MIL buys me.  This year I requested steak knives.  And lo and behold….eight steak knives.  The Hubs’ family is literal and unimaginative.  If you tell them you want something one year, you’re likely to get it for the next three or so.  I can’t imagine what I’ll do with 24 more steak knives.  Perhaps join a travelling circus or carnival as their new knife thrower?

The SIL enjoys buying us things she picks up on her travels.  I shouldn’t complain as I got a Gucci scarf one year…that’s white and beige.  I’m blonde and fair.  It makes me look dead whatever colour side I choose to wear.  Plus it’s scratchy.  I probably should sell it on eBay so that someone can get some enjoyment out of it.

This year was extra special though.  She brought us all back marble eggs from her trip to Morrocco.  Marble eggs.  I’ll let that one sink in for a bit.  Marble eggs.  I put it next to the sand rose she got us last year.  Sure it’s an interesting conversation piece, but it leaks sand all over my display case and I suspect one day it will just fall apart and I’ll have big mess to clean up. 

Other family members have bought me hideous serving dishes and knicknacks (glass purse anyone?), ugly picture frames and appallingly awful kitchen linens over the years.  Goodwill gets a lot of business from me in early January as you can no doubt imagine.

What kills me is that the Hub’s family knows what I enjoy doing….reading, cooking, knitting, sewing, gardening…yet they refuse to buy things that I will like or use.  I suspect like many people, they buy me gifts they’d like to get or they just buy stuff and don’t care one way or another if I like what I get, my name is checked off a list and they feel good about getting their Christmas shopping done early. 

And the Hubs is no better.  For our first Christmas together he bought me a space heater.  I think I’ve complained about mentioned this before.  He later told me he thought I’d like it because I’m always cold.  I can’t fault him for having a good heart but I can fault him for having poor judgement.  Like this year.  I told him for months I wanted something sparkly.  I even pointed out sparkly things I liked when I saw them. 

Granted I don’t wear a lot of jewelry but I do like it.  And he has ready access to my jewelry box so he can see what I do like and see what ring size I wear.  And, best of all, he knows I could care less if the sparkly stuff is fake.  In fact, I’d prefer fake so that when I lose it, it’s only $29 down the shower drain instead of $329.  Not that I speak from experience or anything.

So even though he was armed with some pretty explicit instructions for what I wanted, I unwrapped a 19 piece set of Pyrex this Christmas.  Under a certain light, yes it does sparkle, but it’s frigging hard to wear around my neck, in my ears or on my wrist.  Thank you my darling husband for giving me more casserole dishes, which I needed, but also thanks for an epic-ly disappointing Christmas gift.

For 2011 I’m taking charge though.  I’ve had it with craptastic gifts.  I’ve started my list early and I’m putting on it all manner of things I want and damn the price.  And unlike previous years, I’m not buying things off this list when I see them so that all I can offer as a gift suggestion is a set of steak knives.  No siree.  I want board games and Ravesburger puzzles and books and yarn (if someone else buys it it doesn’t affect my going cold sheep this year) and pretty, sparkly things that are not cookware.  Of course, I can’t make people buy what I want but a list should help minimize the chance of getting crap.

Same goes with the handmade presents.  This year I killed myself.  I made one pair of felted clogs, three pairs of socks, one shawl, seven Saroyans and two shrugs.  I was knitting since May 2010 for his family.  Not this year though.  Nope.  I will likely still make them something but it’s going to be sewn.  Probably placemats.  Maybe market bags.  Socks for the men, but out of worsted weight yarn so they go fast.  In fact I may dedicate February to making gifts for his family and then I’ll have the rest of the year to knit for me and my family and anyone else I care to make things for. 

And as for being too busy, especially visiting his family.  That will also end.  This past Christmas we started holiday visiting on Dec 21 and it didn’t end until New Year’s.  To be honest, the Hubs will still visit family well into February but I won’t be accompanying him to see those family members.  Don’t like them enough to give up my weekends sitting in their houses listening to them moan about how tough their lives are. 

There is a plan afoot in my family to move our celebration from Dec 24 to Dec 25.  Which will conflict with the Hubs’ family but I don’t care.  This Christmas was the first time in my ENTIRE life I did not see my parents and that really bothered (and still bothers) me.  It’s a new year, a new decade and new traditions are going to start.  Hubs and his family can suck it if they don’t like it. 

Also afoot is a plan for us all (on his side) to stop buying gifts for each other and instead take that money and have an “experience” like meeting up in Vegas in the fall.  This has many benefits.  Yes we’re still spending money but at least we’ll spend it on something we like….travel.  I will not have to feign delight over weird things my SIL brings back from her trips.  I will not have to find places to show off (but not really) said weird things.  We get to hang out together, for a few days, enjoy each other’s company and we’ll always have those memories to fall back on over the years.  Everyone seems to like the idea but now someone (that’d be me) has to organize it.  Sure it’s a lot of work but I’d rather spend my time organizing something fun than knitting the same damn scarf seven times.  Ahem.

Anyway, we’ll see what happens.  I’m hoping to have a more relaxed and restful Christmas season in 2011.  And if it doesn’t work out that way, well my mom always includes a bottle or two of wine in my “stocking” so I can at least self-medicate and blot out the parts of the season that didn’t live up to my expectations.

Why

is it that even though I start my Christmas knitting in May I’m still way behind with 50 days to go?

is it that I keep doing Christmas knitting for a group of people, many of whom I don’t particularly care for?

is it that I am dead tired at 6:30 pm but get my second wind at 10:30 pm and stay up way too late and thus perpetuate the cycle of exhaustion?

is it that deer WILL NOT stay off the highway?

is it that everything (and I mean EVERYTHING) in the world irritates me right now?  Oh, wait, that may be due to that whole exhaustion thing.  Maybe.  Or maybe I’m just super crusty right now.  Both are perfectly logical answers.

is it that I keep re-living something over and over and over that I can’t change?  It’s my own personal Groundhog Day.  Or version of insanity. 

is it that I can’t remember anything anymore?

is it that I keep having these ugly red freckly spots come up all over me and they refuse to go away? 

is it that I hate all my shoes?

is it that I have so much freaking yarn but not enough of any of any one kind to actually knit a garment?

is it that after 2 years of living in the Money Pit we STILL haven’t unpacked or hung up pictures?

is it that we ALWAYS have to spend Christmas Day with the outlaws?

is it that every year I dread Christmas more and more and wish that I could skip it entirely?

is it that I look like a wizened old crone on 4 hours of sleep yet the Hubs looks fresh as a daisy on the same number of hours?

is it that Canada Post has mysteriously lost my Sock Club shipment and the yarn store is not all that interested in tracking it down yet they want payment for the next installment?

is it that both of my sock clubs this year have sucked rocks?

Honestly.  It’s been that kind of week.  I want a do-over.  Or maybe go to bed tonight and wake up on December 26th.  Both options work for me.

Out of touch

The MIL turns 70 next month.  Which is quite an achievement as she’s a cancer survivor and hasn’t been in the best of health for the past few years.  She’s a fighter though.

The SIL suggested a few weeks back, that we throw her a party.  At a local all-you-can-eat bufffet.  With 70 of her closest friends.  Paid for by the “kids”.  Which means the Hubs and the SIL.  Uh huh.  Because money grows on trees in our backyard and we burn $100 bills for fun.

Now don’t get me wrong, a 70th birthday is quite a milestone and should certainly be celebrated.  But you might want to ask what the birthday girl what she wants and how she wants to celebrate it before you start planning and spending money like a drunken sailor.

So the Hubs asked and was told flat out NO.  Which, I would like to smugly add, I predicted.  But did the SIL, the Hubs and assorted cousins listen?  No.  They forged ahead and called banquet halls and thought about menus and guest lists…which grew and grew and grew in size.  All the while ignorning the no no NOs coming from the MIL. 

And let me tell you, even at paying half the tab, the tab was still several thousand dollars.  Again, I’m not discouraging the Hubs and his family from celebrating his mom’s birthday, I just want to see it done so that most people, especially his mom (who is afterall the star of the show for the day), get what they want.

But all is well that ends well.  In a conversation with the SIL, his mom put her foot down and flat out refused a party.  It seems that people of her generation don’t like to celebrate birthdays and she’d rather have her close family around her instead of basically everyone she’s ever spoken to.  Which is fair enough.  Not everyone wants a big party.

But what really makes me wonder is what the hell was the SIL thinking by suggesting all of this.  Afterall, shouldn’t a daughter have somewhat of an idea as to what her mother would like?  I don’t expect the Hubs to know, because as sons often are, he’s kind of clueless.  I think, that because she’s lived away from home for so many years, she’s lost touch with her parents.  Which, despite the fact that the outlaws are not my favourite people in the world, is kind of sad.  And even though she comes home for a few weeks at a time, much of her “home” time is spent out.  In other cities, at friends and relatives’ places.  And when she is at home, the SIL spends a lot of time “sleeping”.  Which I suspect is code for texting her friends on her Blackberry.

So the SIL is not actually drawing on much current knowledge of her parents.  And it’s a sad state of affairs when I can better predict how the MIL will react than her daughter can.  I think it’s time for the SIL to move home.  Or at least back to North America.