My cousin once removed, or is it second cousin(?) got back in touch, which is nice. I'd lost her email when the laptop died a while back, and she's been dealing with her own family issues, physical not mental/emotional.
My niece has not, followed through, despite her words of 'love' and "thinking of you all the time" - big surprize. No surprize. I'm slightly disappointed that my writing didn't spark her interest, but not that much. Or maybe she took the invitation to read here as a brush off and never clicked the link, more's the pity. I really am willing to meet just about any reaching out with equivalent effort, from old friend or old genetic family, especially one in grief and loneliness. I just won't do all the work. Or even the majority. Not anymore. It never works anyway.
I tried one extra time for niece, she responded once, then silence. I have my answer.
So often, I have been the one to work harder at family relationships and friendships, contacting and organizing and inviting, and then got left out, taken for granted and ignored. Once I stopped trying so hard, nothing much changed really. I have had to learn to let others come to me, and trust that anyone I really want around will meet me at least half way. Chasing produces no friends.
Went out to lunch, on inheritance money, with a dear friend. We don't get together that often, but every time is warm and intense and healing and wonderful. She drove, I got sake, she got bento, I got rolls, at the fusion/sushi/asian place she introduced me to, that Dylan and I have gone to several times. When I asked for sake, the waiter asked three questions I could answer, and what she brought was lovely.
"Cold or warm?"
Cold.
"Dry or sweet?"
Sweet.
"Filtered or unfiltered?"
Un-filtered.
Gosh it was lovely.
Dylan and I went there the first week after the fracture. I managed with one hand, and needed the pampering and nourishment. It's moderately priced, especially considering the quality of the food. The thin slices of ginger. The earl grey green tea.
Good ingredients well prepared are more nourishing than cheap stuff thrown together, and less is needed to feel full. Good friends in small amounts beats hoards of freeloaders everyday. Quality not quantity.
I used inheritance as a small and gentle act of revenge, my mother would have hated spending money on fancy food, or sake, she could feed* her whole family for a week on what I spent for one meal. (Although she would have known to leave a proper† tip, saw her go back and put cash under a plate when my father would have stiffed the waitress.)
I only work one day the week of Thanksgiving, my favorite adult holiday. That will help.
*Hamburgers and potatoes, canned corn and cookies.
†10%, but something anyway.
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That tipping section brought back a sad and unpleasant memory of my father, a frugal man of Dakota who never tipped properly and when we went out to eat with him had to supplement his minimal offering surreptitiously.
We have always have to do this with Dylan's parents, too. "Utah Tip" is 10%, if it's good enough for the Church, it's good enough for waiters. Thing is, god doesn't need to pay rent or eat, so...
And the days of a nickel being a substantial amount of money are long gone. It's hard to adapt to new realities the older we get. Takes a lot of attention.
I wish restaurants simply had to pay a living wage, and tipping was only for extraordinary service. Until then, if I eat out, I do right by the waitstaff. Took me a while to get my head around that, especially when I was barely making enough to eat out, ordering the cheapest thing and water, the thought of a tip seemed outrageous.
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