Beetles

[cosmolinguist]

"You're gonna be overrun by those beetles!"

Thus was I welcomed back home by my mother; this is the first thing she said to me.

She always gets so agitated by these little things that look like ladybugs but are orange instead of red; I've heard them called Asian ladybugs and Chinese beetles, which probably means they are not really ladybugs, beetles, or Asian. But those are the only names I've heard, so I don't know what to call them. Basically they get everywhere for a few weeks and stink if you kill them, and my mom is driven insane by the very idea that one may get inside her house. She scolded my dad—I mean really properly scolded him, scowling and sighing in exasperation, and everything—for daring to go outside and them come back in, as she picked two or three bugs off his clothes.

Once that important stuff was out of the way, she and I settled down to a serious conversation about how I may be married by mid-November or early December. Doubleyoo Tee Eff, as the kids say.

It'd actually be good to do it before the end of the year, for all kinds of reasons, but I don't even want to think about the impossibility of getting more plane tickets paid for by then. Besides, I do still want to stay here for Christmas, but how would that work? And here she's talking about what kind of food to have at the reception.

I was awake for so long—I didn't sleep much Wednesday night, in the throes of my illness, and not at all Thursday night, when Andrew and I sat in the airport in Dublin as if it were our last night on death row—that by early Friday morning I was having difficulty with things like following the conversation or maintaining enough muscle tone in my neck to keep my head upright.

Eventually that sleep deprivation made everything a little surreal; I listened to Andrew talk just before he left for his depature gate in about the same spirit that I read Anansi Boys just afterward: the idea of spider gods having children seemed about as absurd as the idea that I had to leave Manchester for at least three months. (Which is probably why Andrew got a goodbye kiss that was more quick and casual than some of the goodbye kisses he got before leaving for work in the morning. Ah well; probably best that way. Wouldn't want to Make A Fuss, after all.)

Since then, even though I was asleep before the plane took off and I slept most of the way to Chicago, everything has seemed a bit absurd.

So I wasn't really that surprised when my mom started asking me about what kind of food I wanted at my wedding reception.

It was a ridiculous thing to expect me to care about—I did try, but I completely failed to have even the slightest opinion in this matter—but at least I wasn't surprised. The world's been especially ridiculous for a few days now. Even without the great beetle infestation.

Comments

[comradexavier.livejournal.com]

You know, about the time we were turning onto the gravel, I was thinking to ask you if you really wanted me to take you to your parents' house. I realized that I didn't know if I was being funny or serious, so I didn't say anything. I felt rather bad having delivered you to such a greeting. It was so far from what I expected to hear that for a few moments I didn't even grasp what she said.

for my uncle's second marriage

[dmnsqrl.livejournal.com]

the food for the wedding reception was potluck. Since that side of my family is pretty huge, that always struck me as immensly practical. (my bf was a little horrified, though, when I shared my secret desire to do the same thing :)

Re: for my uncle's second marriage

[cosmolinguist]

My mother must think that food is the most important part of any such event. (I remember now that the first thing she asked me concerning my high school graduation party was about the menu. And she asked me about a year in advance. I didn't care then, either. Though I did try to argue for a while that I didn't want a party...) Apparently this is how her motherly instinct to nurture has chosen to manifest itself. :-)

Re: for my uncle's second marriage

[(Anonymous)]

When my parents come over to visit, all they ever seem interested in are the restaurants. They have so many favorites that we couldn't even get to them all in the short time they were here last week. We take them to see the sights but they only appear like they're half watching.

When was getting married, I think the first thing out of my mom's mouth was asking what kinds of food we wanted. I wonder if most families are like this.

[davmoo.livejournal.com]

Yes they are Asian, although I forget what part of Asia in particular. And yes, they are ladybugs. I know this because they are a very common thing around here. This year they are fairly mild, but a couple of years ago they were so bad in the fall that every night at sunset you would think I painted the south-facing side of my house orange. And I don't think there is a light in my house that the globe doesn't have dead ladybugs in it. And they seem to be strangely attracted to my iced-tea mug...they taste very bitter too.

[guysterrules.livejournal.com]

I'd be as freaked out by those crunchy stink things as your mother.

As for food, one word: nachos. They're easy to make and they'll fill up your guests with great economy.

[cosmolinguist]

Oo, I love nachos! That'd be great.

I don't know why she was asking me anyway. We're gonna have standard church-basement food no matter what: little sandwiches on buns, pickles, mints, cake, punch. She and I both know this.

I don't even like punch.

[paninogirl.livejournal.com]

Mmm...I like the way you think.