I think my parents take my career more seriously than I do. They gave me a Levenger briefbag for Christmas. Granted, it was on my wishlist, but I put it there a few years ago in a whimsical "someday when I'm not an intern I'll carry a bag like this" kind of mood. Now that I'm actually not an intern, and I actually have the bag, I don't know quite what to do with myself. Maybe I'll spend a few evenings huffing the buttery leather scent until I figure everything out. Yeah, that sounds like an excellent plan.
Also, am I wrong in thinking that it's a little early for the family to start in on the baby pressure? What is it about the holidays that makes all your distant relatives suddenly curious if you're seeing anyone special? Why does my dad keep jokingly offering me and my hypothetical bastard child a room in the parental basement? (And another thing: career pressure or baby pressure. The family needs to choose one. Not both. It doesn't work that way.)
My cousin brought her six month old for a visit on Monday. (I've mentioned before that my family is tiny- Melissa is one of two cousins, and the only one of my grandma's four grandchildren to spawn thus far.) My mom and grandma passed the baby back and forth between themselves and cooed and peekaboo-ed to the max. Seeing my grandma with the baby, and the way her cobwebs seemed to clear a bit during that visit, I felt like a familial slacker for the first time. I realize that my grandmother's declining mental capacity is not a good justification for for fast tracking Operation: Entire Rest of Life, but I do wish I had more to give her. As it is, the weather is about all we have left to talk about.
Maybe this is just my competitive streak rearing its ugly head. I mean, there's just no matching a baby. No one cares that I like... accomplished another move this year.
Jesus, I'm intolerable. Can you see why I drive my brother crazy?