Plot Twist

Just when I’d gotten my post-quarantine procedures in place — decided where I’d go, what I’d do, where I’d not go, what I’d not do, granddaughter threw in a monkey wrench.

She’s getting married … in two weeks.

A road trip, for any reason, was something I wasn’t planning on for a long time coming.

Pre-pandemic road trips were already a stressful thing, in that I can’t handle a long drive, an activity that day, turn around and drive back. I have to drive up the day before an event, rest up in a hotel room, attend the activity the next day, return to the hotel and rest up for the drive back the following morning. Not to mention all the hassle involved in feeding myself in a hotel room, because my gut issues won’t allow eating out.

All that was pre-pandemic and now, in order to attend the wedding, I have the normal travel stress with the added threat of infection — travelers around me in the lobby, in elevators, guests at the wedding, the hotel room itself.

The couple had planned to marry … eventually and, if the world hadn’t changed the normal travel stress for their wedding would have been manageable, but plot twist — the world did change. Granddaughter was in the process of having expensive dental surgeries when the quarantine hit, subsequently lost her health insurance, so a decision was made to fast track the wedding to get on his insurance.

Their initial fast track plan was to do a courthouse wedding now, a larger wedding in the fall, but courts only allow one guest and they wanted their families to be present; thus a backyard wedding — limited to 15 guests, and a larger reception party next year.

Understandable reasoning, smart and necessary on their part but, all things considered, too risky on my part.

Though I was sure granddaughter would be disappointed if I didn’t attend, I personally didn’t feel my attendance was all that important. Family rarely gets to see me in person as it is, and granddaughter’s mom (Twin 1) would surely attend, her aunt (Twin 2) would probably drive up for the wedding, and granddaughter’s three brothers most likely would be there for her.

So after a sleepless night of considering the pros, cons, granddaughter’s hurt feelings, my feelings, what’s best and right for me won out. Solidified by my waking up to some official on the news saying that because people are stupid ─ my interpretation of her announcement, and because we’re reopening too soon ─ again my interpretation, we are now reaching “Critical Mass” ─ her words.

At any rate, granddaughter took my declining to attend well, when I called her a little while ago, saying she understood and would try to work something out where I can at least view the ceremony on Instagram.

Works for me.

Having received my race packet for the Over It 5K, plan for today was to head to the college for a 3.12 mile qualifying walk. But now too tired from last night's tossing, turning, lack of sleep, that will have to wait until the mood hits.

Getting low on tamales, and having purchased a proper tamale pot, I may spend the day whipping up another batch.

I shared some of the tamales I made last week with Trainer. I walked into last Monday's session saying, “I brought you this month’s payment and lunch”.

He later told me, he’d taken them home to share with his wife.

“OH NO!”, said I. “She probably judged me”.

Trainer got a puzzled look on his face and asked, “Judge you how?” 

Being as how they are a Hispanic couple, I was afraid her expertise in tamales would make her judge their taste, so I told him she’d probably said something to the effect, “These aren’t good. They’re not even close to authentic”.

“HA!” said Trainer. “She wouldn’t know. She’s never made a tamale in her life”.

ROFLMAO. But he said he enjoyed them, they were good and he’d been impressed that I’d made the tamales myself.

Yet and still, I’ll be keeping this second batch to myself.