Atrocity 2: The Saga Continues...

When last you heard about the event recorded in history as The Atrocity, I was upset with my mom and grandma over my grandmother trying to set me up with a guy.

It has gotten so much worse.

I had a long talk (fight) with my mom, at the end of which I had thought we had come to a tearful understanding in which she realized that grandma arranging a date for me hurts my soul. A week or two went by during which I had thought 1) my mom was sane, 2) my grandmother had learned her lesson, and 3) the guy was as horrified as I and would not contact me.

I was wrong on all counts.

K**** (the guy) called the other day, and his message said he wanted to go out. Ahhhhhhhhhh. I called my mom in frustration because I had told my grandma to not give him my number, only my email, and I had thought this was all over with. Once again lapsed into amnesia, my mom couldn't believe I wouldn't want to go on the date. So I made a deal with her, one I never thought she'd take: I would go on the date if she was Miss Ohio-hospitality and showed me the business cards of the new people she would have to meet. And she took it. Dammit.

So I called K**** back. He immediately started talking about the most exciting thing that had happened to him recently - his purchase of a 50 inch television. He'd had his whole family over to see it. Sports never looked so good. He couldn't believe that he'd ever lived without it. It was the only piece of furniture in his apartment. Oy.

This brought to the surface that his family was nearby. Which means he's a Jersey boy.
Now, there's nothing inherently wrong with New Jersey, my own mother is from there, and the only lasting side effects seem to be her occasional lapses of insanity concerning my dating. But I don't really care for the NY mentality (NY is the world, so I don't need to see the world, nor any parts of NY outside my neighborhood, and I love using racial slurs) and I find that Jersey has a desperate want-to-be NY mentality (I'm so close to the world, so I don't need to see the world, I just need to go visit dives in trendy neighborhoods on Friday nights). Indeed, he made a comment during the conversation that when visiting St Louis he was surprised at how much of a city it was, he hadn't thought the Mid West was so developed. Oh yes, I said, we have cars and everything.

I tried to make light of our awkward meeting. I said it was odd to be set-up by my grandmother, after all we don't talk very often, didn't he find it funny? No, he did not. He didn't think it was at all odd for his grandmother to be a part of his dating life, and after all he talks to her 3 times a week and his whole family goes to dinner at the diner every Sunday.
I can see the cuteness of this, I can see how these statements can be endearing. But for me, they're not. If things worked out between us I could see 50 years of sitting at a Formica tabletop with a chain-smoking waitress serving me tuna salad on melon with my mother-in-law dabbing at a stain on her husband's tie with her napkin.

That's not to say K**** isn't a nice guy. He definitely is. Very nice. He even asked about what I study, and asked a few times what peace education means before giving up. He explained he doesn't like English or reading or writing much. He only took a lit course in college because he had to, and that was only just one. And that's the point, we have NOTHING in common. Besides of course being short, as my grandmother pointed out.

The clincher:
I know from my mom and grandma that he's doing his surgical residency. So I asked him what surgery he does. And this could save him, because if he does pediatric surgery I could love that. But no, he does COLON and RECTAL surgery. He's a tushi man. He's an up-the-tushi man. I hold out hope still, I mean maybe someone in his family died of anal complications and it impassioned him young in life to save other people from that terrible fate. So I asked how he got interested in that specific area. His response is that it's "marketable" and not too "complicated."
I never thought of the tushi as an easy way out before.

Obviously, as a peace educator I am not very interested in uncomplicated or marketable jobs.

And so, due to the agreement, I still have to go out for drinks with this guy. Lots of drinks.

What's round on the ends & high in the middle?

O HI O

I was homeward bound for a long weekend this past Friday. That is, my new home in Cleveland. This has been a long process of home-changing; my dad has already been living in a Cleveland apartment for 15 months, my mom has been living in Highland Park trying to sell our house there, and the new house was being built (not to mention my sister's wedding). So, as of last week my mom and dad both moved into the new, almost completely finished house.

It's really beautiful. It's also in a totally different style from our house in HP. The outside is sort of cape-cod to me, the inside is warm with lots of colors on the walls (at least 5 very nice shades of purple on the main floor alone), and dark wood furnishings. Our old house was all white-walls, open doorways, and bright nicknacks. Also interesting is that the house is built for our family, but about 10 years down the line. That is, we all have large beds for when we are married, our own bathrooms, and there's a game room my father is just itching to introduce the grandkids (all hypothetical) to. No pressure. I went to visit under the guise of helping to unpack (and I did empty out some boxes and help arrange vases around the kitchen), but really wanted to hang out with my mom.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY IMA!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So with my mom as my traveling companion we checked out this Land of Cleve. First stop was the Maltz Museum of Jewish Heritage just down the street from our new home. We were welcomed by a very nice woman, Martha, who like my mom grew up in New Jersey and moved to Cleveland with some hesitation. One we had chatted all about each of their backgrounds, and about my studies at OSU and Martha's daughter studies at my Alma Mater, we headed into the museum's exhibits. Those of you not in the know may be surprised to hear that Cleveland has had a pretty significant and landed Jewish citizenry for quite some time. The story of the Cleveland Jews could be that of any other American city really; a few immigrants all from the same city in _____ (Germany/Poland/Russia/Latvia/etc.) moved to little village _____ (American town-to-be). After starting off as local peddlers and having participated in the _____ War (Revolutionary/Civil/First World) the Jews returned home and set up small businesses. A few went on to become wealthy families who, when not allowed into the gentile-only clubs, began their own clubs which were similarly restrictive towards non-German Jews. They served in World War II, they faced the horrible realization of the Holocaust, they came back with the GI Bill to get an education and start a family in the Cleveland suburbs. The Present.

Saturday was a trip down to Old Columbus Town, site of my college career. We arranged to meet up with my mom's cousin Susie and her Husband Norman at my very favorite Columbus restaurant, The Northstar Cafe. This place is incredible, and unfortunately the secret is out because it was packed. They have a very healthy menu that is also delicious and houses the BEST VEGETARIAN BURGER EVER. It is better than actual meat burgers. I kid you not. After lunch Daddio and I headed to The Horseshoe to watch the OSU vs. Michigan State game from incredible 4th row seats. Now, I am no sports enthusiast, but I would say this game held my attention through the first half. This is in no small part due to my very friendly neighbor, Jill, who herself graduated from OSU back in the 1960s and who could yell a good curse when OSU started playing badly during the second half. It was wild to walk through the campus, which has changed a lot since I graduated two years ago; the library has been gutted for renovation, the student union torn down for a new one to take its place, and the main drag of High Street completely gentrified (until the sketchy 7-11 and most robbed Wendys in history further South). The day was made complete by some Graeters (the greatest ice cream on Earth). SO great is it that we shipped it in for my sister's wedding, where it completely overshadowed the wedding cake. I will not make the some mistake, and plan on sharing the "first scoop" with my spouse-to-be and skip the cake entirely.

On Sunday we had tickets to enjoy some Cleveland theater. We went over to the Cleveland Play House to see a new play, Shelock Holmes: The Final Adventure. Interestingly, the play was a mix of three different Holmes stories, one of them not even written by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. It began with "A Scandal in Bohemia," but already hinted at a love affair between Homes and Irene Adler, then went into a play by William Gillette called "The Crucible of Blood," substituting the original victim of the Larabee siblings antics, Violet Something, for Irene. It ended with "The Final Problem" and the confrontation of Holmes and Moriarty (Arty Morty) at Reichenback Falls. While that could keep you confused for weeks on end, the theater itself was very nice, the acting well done, the sets pretty amazing, and the amount of smoke onstage (cigarettes, pipes, and two special effects) astounding.

In between all this fun we also had several nice meals (if you are in the area you must eat at Lopez), met one very friendly bartender, and had a fruitless trip to the mall. I am very much looking forward to Thanksgiving, when I can spend more time with the parents and try out some of the nightlife of Cleveland with Shira and Mike.