Seattle Hangover

I want to tell you that things have improved since my last post and I now love August. Turns out you don't always get what you want.

I cursed the month and then fled the state. Not really connected but you never know when a caring friend will turn up with wedding cake to destroy your self-pity. And I knew my brother Philip and his wife Annie would not have any wedding cake so I could safely hate August from their Seattle apartment.

The dismal gray skies were ordered and delivered after a week of record-high temps. Perfect. On that first day Phil invited me to all-you-can-eat sushi. He convinced me to pile my plate high with the unknown. We sat down and with a boyish grin reminiscent of the horror stories he told me in my youth, he explained the Sushi Hangover. An experience I laughed at...until the next morning.

The day of indulgence was amazing. We walked the city recklessly. Blisters? Never. Side-ache? No. Weary, tired, irritable? I felt like an Olympian, or what I'd imagine an Olympian to feel like if they were high on raw fish. We stayed up well into the night—one of us knowing the next day would hurt, one of us beginning to forgive August.

The next morning we sluggishly drove to the water for a kayaking adventure. I didn't feel too horrible. The day after that we trekked up a mountain. Again I felt fine once I was up. The day after that we went trail riding cowboy style. By now the Sushi Hangover had passed and it didn't seem bad.

Wait. I have the world's slowest metabolism. I know this in the shadowy regions of my mind but I like to forget it. It became unforgettable when the Sushi Hangover hit me on Sunday, three days late. Luckily it also lasted about three days, haunting me through Tuesday. You may not believe, few do. I mocked Phil a bit about it myself and paid a price.

Karma or just old-fashioned big brother knows best?

Star Water

My family reunited again. We tend to do so at least once a year with all the cousins, as well as special occasions like births, deaths, holidays, weddings, missions, Sunday dinners, Tuesday bingo nights and Saturday morning cartoons. We enjoy spending quality time together, without others. Or at least that’s what my sister-in-law Annie now thinks.

The first time Annie met the family was a couple of Christmases ago. I flew in from Ireland under strict orders to befriend Annie and ease her stay during the holiday. Translation: Bre could you shield her from the teasing. Maybe you could cause some scenes so all eyes are on you. Maybe you could redirect the twins, entertain the boys, dance around with underwear on your head, anything really, just mediate.

I did the best I could but with the jet-lag, a bulging disc in my back and a general state of delusion I was no match for the three day bonding we had due to a blizzard. Not even the makeshift John Deere plows could get her out for a few minutes peace.

We broke her down and somehow Phil convinced Annie to marry him. Had she known erratic weather was part of the deal she may have said no, then again she grew up in Seattle. This past weekend we dragged her to Star Valley for the Hyde reunion. I’m sure she enjoyed the huddling for warmth and the rain dictated cabin restriction (What is it about my family gathering that upsets the heavens?). Basically we sat around eating and mocking each other.

My only hope is that Annie felt a twinge of disappointment when she drank water today. As a child I remember a familiar phrase repeatedly falling from my mother’s lips upon our return from Star Valley. The water in the valley is sweeter tasting. Back then I noticed only one difference; the water in the valley chilled my teeth. I then decided that instead of believing my mother to be crazy she must be speaking in code. What she really meant is she missed her family.

I refilled my water bottle this morning. All day long the water I usually down in gulps has been sipped as I winced at the slightly bitter taste. I suppose it could be the bottle or strained taste buds, but the water in the valley tastes sweeter.