Saturday, November 04, 2006

Proof that God has a sense of humor...

Larry is my mom's husband, Iain's Grandpa (and an awesome one at that).

Larry is not my stepdad.

My mom and Larry met when I was 17, and for the first several years, Larry and I didn't like each other too much. He thought I was a selfish, arrogant brat. I thought he was creepy and boring. In fact, I can remember telling my mother that I saw him on America's Most Wanted and that she really should look into her boyfriends more carefully.

Likewise, Larry and Dalton didn't get along too well at first. Of course, that was due in part to the fact that things were a little crazy between Dalton and I in the very early years. One night in 1996 when we were living with my mom for a few months, Dalton and I had a bit too much to drink and ended up getting in a fight in the kitchen. It was 2am and Larry normally went to work at 4am. In a daze, Larry calmly walked into the kitchen and pointed out to Dalton that "He was a great cook, but a lousy house guest."

All the more amazing that the four of us eventually ended up really enjoying each other's company. I stopped being a spoiled brat, Dalton stopped being a drunk, and Larry stopped being so creepy. In fact, in some of Dalton's journaling, he references evenings spent laughing, playing cards, and drinking wine with my mom and Larry as some of his favorite memories. We always found that fact ironic.

But that's not the reason that God has a sense of humor. Today, while Iain napped, Larry and I spent the day doing real estate research and talking about potential cities to which each of us could relocate. Mom died two years ago this month and it is proving to be a hard time for Larry. Of course, if you read this blog, you already know that it has been a hard time for me. Anyway, and this is the funny part, amongst the things considered in our potential new diggs were opportunities for social connection. So where did we end up? On Yahoo personals entering in different criteria, different zip codes, and different locales. "Larry, look, she's pretty and likes dancing." "Hey Tricia, there are over 1000 men in the San Rafael area for you to date who claim to jobs."

You get my drift. We were laughing hysterically the whole time.

Of course, the truth is that I am only six months into grieving. Larry is nearly two years into it. And neither of us is really serious about dating. But who would have thought that an 18-year old brat and her mom's creepy boyfriend would one day have so much in common?


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