In the whole general mish-mash of life's spinning likelihoods, I'm very happy with the enormously unlikely outcomes I've been dealt lately.
My nailbitingly close to the deadline passport application was unguaranteed, and arrived less than twenty-four hours before my flight left Heathrow for New York, where I met the love of my life.
Which has lead to me grabbing the tablecloth corners of my life and bracing to pull.
Krissa posted yesterday about the annoying questions she is being asked about us...and I understand that. Only a meagre sprinkling of the people in my every day round know anything about us, and due to the type of people they are, I have been asked no questions.
I like the fact that despite this generalised incredulity from the masses, anyone who has seen us together has done no more than raise an eyebrow, smiling all the while.
This weekend though, I have to explain things to some people who won't get to see us together for a while yet, and who are fiercely protective of me; my family.
Which will be no problem...but it doesn't stop me being nervous as all hell.
We're all adults now, some more than others and not necessarily anything to do with age, but there is still something about the environment that remembers. The kitchen table at mealtimes. Questions that younger versions of my sister and I squirmed to avoid answering...questions on school reports, behaviour, whether or not I was lying when I said I didn't realise I was making little burping noises...and later moving onto more mature subjects...political views, friends, relationships, school reports and university choices.
Parents are there to care, and you would be hard pressed to find a more caring pair than mine, but I am wary of the dinner table environment bringing up that old situation of parentally concerned interrogator and wary, defensive child...which are hard roles to shake.
In no more than thirty seconds, explain and justify your decision to abandon the United Kingdom and your family in favour of a woman you only met for nine days.
I love her.
...
...
Okay. More peas?
Maybe you should hand them the details in the form of a report card first ...
For her or for me?
No. Just...no. There was always a lighthearted rigmarole of sitting down for the reports...and then maybe one phrase would be extracted from all the teachers' comments to haunt me for maybe months or years afterwards.
'Slow to start' is a comment from my YEAR 2 report, when I was five. It occasionally sees the light of day in embarrassing public situations.
Now if Kirssa give you a report card that says "Quick to finish" you are in trouble.
It would of course, depend on the subject the grade was given for.
mine always said "is a constant distraction to others". actually, stuart, that might explain a lot to your parents.
Okay. That's a good angle.
I'm going to New York to be constantly distracted.
One school report of mine read: "Jeremy's work is highly erratic". But the teacher's handwriting was terrible, an it looked a lot like "Jeremy's work is highly erotic".
That's a cool report.
Too cool for school, anyway.
OK...that made me laugh outloud! I'm sitting here at work and people want to know why I'm laughing and there's just no way to explain. You could always tell your folks you got over that "slow to start" business finally and this is the result. Best of luck dearheart, it sounds like your family trusts you and that will clear the way.
Hey, this is great news! I've been away from the blogosphere for a while and didn't know about your fantastic turn of fortunes. Way to go! And don't let us old folks throw you. We just can't help ourselves from asking dumb questions. It's a sign of love.
Courage, man! Just walk right up to your parents and tell them that you've had it up to here with the damn monarchy and have signed on with the Yanks. Then tar and feather them. They'll send you right on your way!
Right - o.k.
Firstly - I am overjoyed.
Secondly - not wanting to itemise these feelings but re: above comments - teachers don't always get things right!! They are only human after all and I should know I am one! A teacher I mean oh and I suppose I am human too! Hm!(This overwhelming surge of emotional energy surrounding Stuart and those in close contact is getting to me!)
Anyway what I wanted to say was that if he is happy then so am I...
Enough said....
Must buy a pair of flight socks.....
Katinax
Oh mah lord...was that really your Mom up there? DAMN she's cool!