Lemon tree, very pretty

Oof. I ate too much. And it's not even the celebrated day of mass overeating yet. I'm in Oakland, writing in a word document, so this will be written over a period of I don't know how long. Anyway. I got my hair cut yesterday. I don't know how I feel about it. I think it's too short. Maybe that's just because I got used to it being an inch or two longer. I dunno. It's a lot lighter now, I don't get a headache 5 minutes after putting it in a ponytail.
My flight was a little delayed, so I ended up getting to Oakland at about 12:30 at night, rather than midnight. Something kind of weird happened at the baggage claim. I was standing there, waiting for my bag to be vomited forth and passed around, and there were a couple of people standing a few feet away. I thought they were together, and the guy pulled a bag that looked suspiciously like mine off the conveyer, and then picked up his other bags, and walked away. So then I thought maybe he had just been chatting with the woman and had pulled her bags off for her. But then I went to look at the bag that, yes, indeed, was mine, and she had no idea why it had ended up on the floor. I'm very confused.
I didn't get around to doing laundry before I left, so I did it here. I've never done that before, the typical college thing of bringing home all your dirty clothes to wash. On the one hand, I feel like such a clich�, and on the other I feel like it's about time I got around to doing it.
I got to sleep with my cat at my feet. I really wish I could take him with me to New York, but there's just no way that will ever happen. But it's nice being back around him, and he seems to like that I'm back.
So then I had dinner with my grandparents and my aunt. My parents somehow got suckered into going as well. I thought it was going to be just me, and that was my punishment for accepting a plane ticket, but that they were off the hook. Apparently not. We went to this really nice little Italian restaurant in Montclair. It was kind of awful, though. The food was fine. The food was really good, even. But my grandmother talked inanely and tried to get my aunt to connect me with people for work in New York (my aunt deflected this very well by repeating a few times that I had contacts of my own) and my mom talked a lot to kind of fill time, and my grandfather stayed quiet for long periods of time, rousing himself to ask me some question or other (did I read the sonnet* he sent me [answer-for the 8th time, yes], from where did my tennis player forearms come from [I'm still not sure if this was a compliment or not. Also, I do not have tennis player forearms.] was I a political person [I so do not want to discuss politics with him in any way, shape or form, so I said vehemently that I wasn't and that I ignored any kind of news that might cross my path] what was the name of the thing I ordered [seriously, he asked me this about 6 times. It was Fettucine Sennistori. I had to spell it for him once. Then he asked the waiter. Holy god, man, drop it] on and on) and at one point started monologuing to my dad about the importance of getting tested for prostate cancer. The thing that just makes it all the worse is that he really can't hear very well, and he speaks very softly. So you have to lean in close to hear him, and talk louder than you feel comfortable doing in that ambience. And then my grandmother gave my stuff. Ummm. A red sweater. I do not wear red. The only red thing I wear is my Communist Party shirt from Threadless. I have red hair, therefore, I do not wear red. Whatever. Then a sea foam green sweater that's actually kind of nice, except that it's made out of cheap scratchy wool, and a velvet jacket. That has vaguely muttonchop/Edwardian sleeves. I will not be wearing it. Oh, and then- a necklace with my name on it, and a ring with the comedy/tragedy masks. Both of which say cheap pimp to me. Maybe I'm being all prejudiced, but the ring only fits on my pinky, and I associate pinky rings with pimps, for some reason, and for some other reason, I kind of think that necklaces with your name on them are trashy. Though I have seen some people who were able to make it look good. So that's more on a case by case basis. But anyway. At least the food was good. There was really good bread and this kind of garlic/roast pepper/butter spread. We all had some of the polenta with gorgonzola and sauce, and then I had a salad with goat cheese and dried cranberries and almonds, and normally I think that fruit other than tomatoes has no place anywhere near a salad, but this one was very good. Then my sennistori, which has mushrooms, and a white wine sauce, and then chocolate bread pudding for desert. All around good, though somewhat impinged upon by the company. But then, I can't complain because I walked away 422 dollars richer. Oh boy. I'm such a whore.
Oh, hey, the fantastic thing is that my aunt and cousin are leaving to go do this workshop thing on something like the 22nd of December, which is right about when I get there. So I can house-sit for them. So I have a place to stay while finding an apartment! It's a little inconvenient that it's on the Upper West Side, and I'm going to be looking in Brooklyn, but hey, it's free, I'll be by myself, there's internet and cable tv. It's going to be great.
What else? I had more to talk about. Oh, towards the end of dinner, it started raining. Then pouring buckets, the gutter was full and running fast, and then it went back to just raining, all in about 15 minutes. It was kind of dramatic. I think my grandmother wanted to use it as an excuse to make us stick around longer, but it didn't really work. I'm a little worried about them, though, because the three of them left with it still raining, and my grandfather was driving. He is one of the reasons people swear a lot and say that old people shouldn't drive. He shouldn't be allowed to drive anymore. Especially not at night, and really especially on a rainy night. So I hope they get pulled over, and a cop drives them home and then makes sure my grandfather never drives again. Best case scenario. Not that he'd listen to them.
Also, we always go on a hike and picnic for thanksgiving. I'm pretty sure it'll be clear tomorrow, but what if it's not? Also, the ground will still be wet and muddy. But maybe it didn't rain where we're going. We'll see. I mean, I know we're going pretty much no matter what, I just don't know how pleasant it's going to end up being. I have to make oatmeal/walnut/dried cranberry cookies in a minute. Also- have to call Mimosa about getting together tomorrow night. I could use some quality drinking time.

*The sonnets. He sent me a letter (well, first he called me to say he was sending the letter, and read it to me over the phone) that said something like "Dear R---, To the granddaughter of the fullness of my years. When one gets old, one sometimes thinks things, and in thinking, turns to poets to say them better" and then wrote out one of Shakespeare's sonnets about being a (grand)father, and taking delight in you childrens interests and activities, and being proud of them. Very apt. And, you would think, a very sweet sentiment. Except that he first wrote it to another one of my cousins, who happens to be in some private boarding school, because she got in trouble with drugs or something. And he's telling me on the phone how he doesn't really take delight in the things she's doing, because they're all stupid and getting her in trouble. He does this a lot, badmouth people in sort of a backhanded way. He has talked to me before about "have you noticed that you're grandmother is slipping?" and I really don't know how to answer, because I don't think she is, much, and he certainly is weirder. Anyway. So he was writing this praiseful letter to her, because apparently where she is they check the mail that comes in and make sure there's nothing depressing, or mischief-inducing or whatever, and he thinks, you know, this really applies to my other grandchildren too, and so he photocopies this letter, changes the name in the heading, and sends it off to me and my cousin Sarah. Oh boy.

Okay, I'm going to write up the rest of my trip in a separate entry now.