After meeting my sister at the gym (see prior entry), I raced home and showered and changed in time to go with my family to my sister’s house where some out of town, and newly-minted New Yorker, cousins were coming for brunch.  Before meeting me at the gym, my sister had schlepped on her bad foot to Zabars to purchase a Jewish soul food brunch extravaganza.  (We both got the food purchasing gene from Mom; too much is still never enough.) Where is my brother-in-law, you ask?  He was working on a painting assignment in his studio, but I cross-examined him and I was satisfied that he was hard at work and stressed about the painting and, more importantly, he felt guilty and undeserving of my sister’s love.  So, he was excused for the day of family activities.

Whenever our family gets together, gastro-intestinal fortitude makes its way into the conversation.  This time, a fourth generation cousin (third generation born in this country) talked about her IBS (irritable bowel syndrome).  I thought, wow, I thought irritable bowel was just a family personality trait (think about that for a second).  I had no idea that it was a medical condition.  She is a runner and cannot complete a run without — er, um — finding a bathroom (or remote area of the woods if she runs in the countryside).  We discuss Metamusil, Immodium and other products while stuffing smoked fish down our throats.  We discussed the relative cleanliness standards of most major chain stores in NYC and the value of her strengthened thigh muscles in being able not to sit down.  Still we are eating.  In fact, we have to talk with our mouths full just to get in a word amidst the chatter.

My son was very engaging until he stopped abruptly, got a bird encyclopedia (my brother-in-law is a bird nerd) and sat down to read.  My father wanted to continue talking to my son, but my son would have none of it.  He said, “Puh-leeze, Grandpa, I need some alone time to recharge my batteries.” Kids hear everything you say and some time, some place, it comes out — ZING!!!

My cousin brought homemade zucchini bread with zucchini from her garden.  I thought that I could re-gift it for our barbeque in Scarsdale later in the day, but no one would believe that I made anything like that.  Besides, it would be too much like life imitating art — or Seinfeld, whichever.  Of course, after someone tried it and thought it was delicious, I mentioned that I had really wanted to re-gift it and was disappointed that any of it was eaten and my family (jokingly, I promise you) tried to make it look whole again so I could take it.  I didn’t even watch Seinfeld (but I did hear the retelling of the episodes) and even this was too much.  But reality is crazier than any fiction. 

We had to leave this gathering to go to Scarsdale for a barbeque but by this time the migraine had overpowered the pills and I was achy and in need of a dark, quiet room.  That is not possible in my house because when my son gets into playing with his toys, it is loud like an arena.  And, he was so unhappy not to go to our friends in Scarsdale.  So were we.  I just couldn’t make it. 

I slept for awhile and then we did some errands with the car I rented so we could go to Scarsdale.  These are the kinds of errands that need a car — dropping off heavy stuff at donation places, etc.   After a few of these type of errands, my partner gave my son a choice of whether or not to go to Fairway food store (the one that is like a warehouse) to shop.  He opted not to, of course.  My partner tried to change his mind but if you give a child a choice you have to live with the answer or start negotiating.  So, I started negotiating.  He got french fries and an ice pop at dinner if he and I stayed in the car while my partner went shopping for exactly 20 minutes.  Then she remembered she had her iPod with the bird sounds game.  But no one would let me renegotiate, so I was left in the car listening to high pitched bird calls.  My migraine started to spread beyond the borders of my brain and threatened to create an epidemic of brain pain throughout upper Manhattan.

So as not to let the rental go to waste, we are going to the cemetery to visit my mom’s grave tomorrow.  My sister will bring the left-overs from brunch so we can have a tailgate.  Our family can eat anywhere.