Today, I’m in transit to Nebraska for my cousin’s wedding. I’m going to attempt to blog all the good stuff, but thought I’d give an intro to one of the many places I call home. Also, stealing wireless Internet is difficult in the corn fields sometimes, so the blogging may turn out to be pretty sporadic.
Both of my parents are from Nebraska. While I’ve never lived there, my entire extended family does with the exception of an aunt and a couple cousins. So, when I visit, it really is a bit like going home.
This time, as I mentioned, it’s for a wedding. This is actually the first family wedding I’ll attend (the others that have happened in my lifetime have conflicted with work or school). It’s also the first family wedding of my generation.
I won’t lie, it might be a bit weird for me at times. My cousin’s younger than me, and my only female cousin on my mother’s side. While she’s been dating her fiancee a good long time and I couldn’t be happier that they’re getting married, it’s still weird, ya know? It’ll be a different dynamic for our relationship and for our family, and I’m sure it will take a little getting used to.
Nebraska is always a good time. My grandfather spends the majority of his time in his recliner, watching old westerns or the History Channel, with the volume on high while my grandmother yells at him from the kitchen to TURN. IT. DOWN. There are almost always long lunches with mom, grandma, my aunt and cousin. This time we’ve already booked pedicures.
It’s usually on these occasions that I prove myself to be one of the black sheep in our family. Last visit, for example, us girls were out to lunch and religion came up. During the conversation, Adam and Eve somehow came up and I simply stated that they aren’t real. That they’re most likely a parable about creation. Duh, doesn’t everyone know that? Honestly, I don’t even know if I believe that, being the uncertain, but faithful (if that’s possible) Catholic that I am. My grandmother, being the good Lutheran she is, looked at me with horror in her eyes and proceeded to engage in an hour-long debate about the reality of Adam and Eve. There was another occasion where I got into it with her about the merits of blue and white collar men that basically left me looking like a gold-digging bitch.
Part of me just enjoys the rabble rousing. Actually, most of me enjoys it. But my poor grandmother, I don’t know how much more she can take. If you think my mom’s old fashioned, you have not met her mother.
It should be fun, no?