I was having a minor stress-out about my dad today on the way in. He's supposed to arrive in Seattle this weekend, in tow of my brother who's driving out here with a load of my grandmother's furniture. I was thinking about how my dad is probably fairly content with the current state of our relationship - not having seen me for a year and a half and having talked to me a grand total of three times during that period. For him, this is the degree of involvement I think he's comfortable having in my life. For me, it's a painful failure of a relationship that could have been meaningful and instead is a hollow shell of its potential. I was even thinking yesterday about how my husband was for all intents and purposes my only family, although I'm working on developing relationships with other blood or inlaws with varying degrees of success. Speaking of which, my M-I-L is coming out for my brother's wedding. Yay!
Speaking of which, the movie "Le Fils" (the son) was very good, although Cathy probably wasn't prepared for it. I was, however, thanks to the review that made me go see it. Who needs dialogue anyway? In American movies, they're always just saying the obvious.
