My brother’s wedding creeps ever closer–we’re less than two weeks away now–and Saturday, my mom and I went for our hair test Saturday morning. For her, it was mostly deciding on what she wanted to do, and for me, it was mostly copying the picture of what the bride wanted and making sure it works with my short hair. It does, and I love it.

The one downside was we were headed off to Ohio for Aunt Shirley and Uncle Bill’s surprise 60th anniversary party, and the morning hair appointment meant setting out a little later than we might’ve normally. We were going close enough to Cleveland that I would’ve loved to check out the Rock ‘N’ Roll Hall of Fame again–I went in high school when we were in town for a wedding on that side of the family, and as my taste in music has expanded since, it’s something I think I’d appreciate a little bit more now. And I loved it then, so that’s saying something. Plus I want to take Paul. I think he’d like it, too. At least it’s close enough that we could reasonably go some other weekend.

Okay, so there was more than one downside, like having to drive to Uniontown then back home then to Ohio because one car would be cramped and Paul didn’t want to miss his tai chi class, nor did he really need to, what with my mom and I get our hair did that whole time and all. I spent a little bit of time at my parents’ house having lunch and doing free laundry before I hit the road, and then Paul and I packed off and went to…the outlets so I could exchange a pair of pants that were too tight. I think my favorite thing about buying clothes is when I buy the same size from the same store and one pair fits fine and the other is really, uncomfortably tight. I’ve also decided that I don’t want to be the kind of person who lives in physically uncomfortable denial and squeezes into small clothes for no real reason. Sure, I’m trying to make healthier decisions, but suffering at work in tight pants is not the kind of sacrifice I want to make, and if that means going up a size, so be it.

We got to Ohio around 7 in the evening and hung out in our adjoining rooms, which my mom said she quickly regretted, as my dad kept going back and forth and wouldn’t leave her alone. We suspect this was partly out of spite, as he didn’t want to go in the first place and was being as much of a nuisance as possible to get out of future events.

I had a similar issue with Paul initially not wanting to go, although that had more to do with me making the mistake of asking him early in the morning when he was to sleepy to do anything, plus he won’t act like a child about it. But when he initially said no, I got frustrated and a little cranky–we’re getting married next year, so him coming along would be a nice gesture, for one. On top of that, I handle his chaotic family on a regular basis. Now, I could see if it were my dad’s family because I’d probably try to get out of that myself, but when it’s my mom’s family, who are calmer and more put together and usually enjoy each other’s company and have fun, I don’t see a reason not to go. I’ll come back to this when I talk about the actual party, but I like spending time with them and I like taking those opportunities when they come. Especially as we’re all getting older and spreading out across the country or have significant others’ families to juggle or other commitments.

We spent Saturday night mostly just hanging out in the hotel–we went out to dinner and then to a Kohl’s to try to find a gift, or at least a gift card as a last resort. Since Paul and I aren’t married yet, I don’t push us sharing a hotel room, even though we live together, so we split up by gender–and part of that is probably my mom not really wanting to share a room with my dad, either. And because she knows he’s a terrible travel partner, she let Paul hang out in our room as long as he wanted. Unfortunately for him and Brandon, that turned into until I complained about them keeping me up. I didn’t technically kick them out, but Paul knows me well enough to know that asking when they’re going to bed and saying that they’re being noisy is code for “please leave, I can’t sleep.”

And ya know, as much as I love Paul, I also really loved having a whole bed to myself.


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