The Zaftig Chronicles

Home at last! I love being with family this time of year, but coming to the home I've made for myself is the best thing in the world. I don't care that I have to unpack or that I have to pay bills or make an appointment with the dentist or even that I have to clean my apartment. I look forward to doing these things, because it's me; it's what I do. So while I enjoy spending time with aunts, uncles, and yes...even cousins and eating the food of my childhood, it's still doesn't compare to the feeling of turning the key in your own door and flicking on the lights you pay for every month.  Jan was miserable. He missed Henry terribly, and since Henry is not out to his family, Jan didn't get to invite Henry's family to their home, where he swears he can set a table that would make Martha Stewart cry. I know this is true because I've seen Jan at his best when it comes to making things all pretty. So in the hotel room, Jan unloaded his transferred-from-VHS-t...

I can't imagine spending the holidays without my family or without having turkey, mashed potatoes, and roasted pears.   But people like Diana can chuck the family thing and serve Chinese food for Thanksgiving. "Kung Pao chicken is a perfectly fine substitute for dry turkey," she said last year. "While you're fighting with your cousins over who has a better life, I'm spooning extra peanuts on my plate." It's true: my cousins and I have issues, but a cozy New England dinner makes up for everything. The smells alone permeating the air is almost enough.  I'm thankful to receive big hugs from women who smell like perfume and stuffing.  I'm thankful for the chance to pry the wine bottle from my grandfather's hand when he stutters and starts the conspiracy theories. I'm thankful that I will have Jan with me.  I'm thankful that I don't have to eat Chinese food alone or even make Thanksgiving dinner.  I'm thankful I can afford to g...

While still on this whole sensibility thing, I headed to Menard's, and purchased a sunflower shower head. It's truly beautiful and sensible. I've already tested it out with some sudsy raspberry sorbet body wash . It was like taking a shower under a waterfall.  What's so sensible about purchasing an oversized shower head, you ask? Well, it's sensible to take care of myself and to make myself feel good. And you know I love me some shower . So investing in a beautiful shower head is truly a sensible thing.  I like this sensibility stuff.   In other news: I'm taking Jan to New Hampshire for Thanksgiving. New Hampshire is where my maternal grandparents live, and where I have spent all my Thanksgivings since birth. Jan's excited -- he wants to make meatballs and some dumplings. I'm sure the family is looking forward to munching on something other than the traditional offerings.  I've already booked the tickets. Besides, I need someone to help me make fun...

Sister is here. It's her eyes -- they look normal. Healthy. Thoughtful. Full of life, dare I say? I like her like this.  She came this morning, bearing lattes and donuts from a bakery near my house. I happily accepted, but Diana -- still here from last night's man-dishing fest -- declined and got the hell out of Dodge. Diana doesn't like my sister; she thinks she's as toxic as a moldy basement in July. And she can be. But I think this weekend is going to be fine. I'm going to be here for her. I'm going to be a doting little sister. I'm going to be happy. And so will she.   In other news: I checked my email, and He has sent me a "Date Proposal" for next Friday. "How about we go to __________, have the duck and end up looking out at the city below from you know where. I'd like to do it again. Use that same shower gel, please. And he couldn't tell me this at work, face to face?  What the fuck are we doing here ?  I've yet to repl...

My sister is suicidal. At twenty-eight years old, Sister slit her wrists on Valentine's Day, 2002. She recently confessed: "I did it for the glamour of it." Sister is divorced, no kids, and claims to be the happiest woman in the world now. "Zaftig, believe me those days are behind me. I'm living, girl," she says with earnest. I can't help but worry. Sister has bad days and good days; we all do. But we all haven't slid razors into our flesh or starved ourselves for weeks. We don't all have such scary secrets that not even God can wretch free. Sister carries this. I call her every day and she puts on good for me, but I hear it in her questions: "Do you think "Kelly" (our cousin) likes my clothes?" Why? Is Sister going somewhere? Yet, I live. I love life. How can two girls who've been reared similarly yet life means two different things to both. A burden. A gift. Sister says, "I'm living, girl." So I live. Hope ...