The big Irish Catholic side of my family had a reunion this weekend. Highlights:
Friday morning: worked out with my good pal CES. He brought his Kettlebell and taught me Turkish Get-ups, and K.B. snatches. I gave him some lessons on the ergometer. Get-ups kicked the stuffin' out of my ass.
I emailed my father (who is not part of the reunion) so that we could meet up for breakfast. He lives about 90 minutes/2 hours from where we were staying. I told him, we'll meet Saturday 9 a.m. I don't know where, but I'll find someplace in XYZ neighborhood. I'll give you a ring Friday. Things were hectic at my mom's (I ended up doing most of the cooking for 50+ people) I didn't call (I feel terrible about that). I called at 8 am on saturday assuming they'd be on the road, and i could give them directions. Long story short, they weren't. He waited for me to call, and then when I didn't instead of picking up the phone like any normal adult who had plans with another adult who was just trying to iron out the final details, he bagged the whole thing. I asked him if he wanted to meet up somewhere in between since the notice was short, he said "that's ok." Well it's really not ok. I make it down there once a year (at most) and you'd rather mope. I feel guilty, but also angry. I feel like we made plans and instead of picking up the phone, he decided to feel sorry that I was too busy to see him. Once I realized my mistake, we could have met up somewhere, done something, but he'd rather be pitiful and unhappy than see me. If anything he should have been a man, and my father, and picked up the phone on friday, called me a slack-ass punk for not calling. Hell read me the riot act, meet me at a fricken denny's and tell me to my face, but don't squander chances, life's too short.
Friday night my 65+ year old Great Aunt talking to my 20 y/o cousin:
G-A: So I hear you've got a boyfriend.
Cuz: Yeah, his name is Justin.
G-A: Does he have a big dick? (wink)
Cuz: Uhhh... he lives in L.A... I gotta go.