"Night, Lucy." "Night, Ricky."

Just got back from a week in captivity with Tom’s family. They are lovely people, and I do believe I behaved pretty well this time. Semi-psycho, but not all-out psycho.

I think my issue comes down to a concept I read about recently that in-laws just aren’t of your tribe. A different tribe doesn’t mean a bad tribe, just different. My own tribe is wracked with tragedy and riddled with dysfunction, but it’s mine so I more or less “get” it.

On a day to day basis, my vacation problems stem from the fact that I’m not in my own home, thus not able to get anything “done,” and the issue of a fundamental magazine-incompatibility. I first heard this phrase from Marinka and I fell in love with it and her fabulous blog.

In-Law’s Magazine List:

Knit Simple
Prevention
Consumer Reports
New Republic
Cooking Light
Tennis

Anna’s Far Superior and More Interesting Magazine List:

Country Living
Better Homes and Gardens
Vanity Fair
Elle Décor
Southern Living
Family Circle
Guideposts

…and the ultimate guilty pleasures: People and US Weekly.

Yes, yes I brought books to read, but I whizzed through them all. No, I couldn’t drive to the store, because after almost 18 years I still don’t know where the heck I am out in the country and how to escape if necessary.

By the end of vacation I was so desperate I was reading the labels on vitamin bottles.

I am not trying to be judge-y here; my own sister and I are magazine incompatible. Hers: Yoga Journal, Self, Health. Ewwww.

But she and I usually manage to stay occupied discussing our differing views of the same childhood incidents or stuffing our faces with jumbo marshmallows straight out of the bag.

Entertainment-wise, we did better than in the magazine department on this trip.

My mother in law has a dvd collection of “I Love Lucy.” We loved introducing the kids to the show.

Reactions:

Molly: “Lucy needs to tell Ricky to go make his own breakfast.”

Jake: “Lucy and her friend always make things worse by lying about stuff.”


And, in a case of "life imitating Lucy," Tom and I were once again assigned the room with twin beds in it.

I was PMS-ing HARD so Tom’s little bed could have been in Alaska for all I cared. The distance probably kept him safe from any vacation-induced stabbing.

In all, it was a very good trip, yet I’m glad to be home. And waiting for me when I got here? 3 crisp new magazines. Aaah.