different sort of commitment

Just got a phone call from my wonderful boyfriend – he checked with University of New Orleans and it looks like her should be able to transfer there with no problem.  He’s thinking that he’ll go down in spring of 2012 and then I can move down after I finish my dissertation in June of 2012.  And then I freaked out.

See I’m not so accustomed to the boyfriend taking that kind of initiative.  Thus far, most of the initiative has consisted of buying elaborate board games, wanting to grill meat for dinner, and going on a bike ride or two.  It’s to the point that just about anytime he suggests we do something, I react with shock and confusion.  ”You want to do what?  Buy shorts?  Really? (pause) Well – I guess we could do that.”  Like that.

So when he decided that he was going to move to New Orleans and get our grown-up life together started about 8 months before the previously agreed-upon schedule, I did not react with the sort of warmth and support that I perhaps should have.

Just a week and a half ago I was pissed at him.  PISSED.  I have been asking him every couple of weeks when he was going to work out his transfer to the local State U and he kept  shrugging like he had lots of time – and then I went ahead and did what I had been afraid to do – I looked at the State U’s website and learned pretty quickly that he’d already missed the transfer application deadline by about 6 months.  So for not the first time his lack of initiative was setting back our plans to start our grown up life.  When we had a slightly teary dinner about it at PF Chang’s, he said lots of things that I had suspected but never heard him say – that he doesn’t always take care of himself like he should, that he only started to get his shit together when we started dating, and that he was nervous about the responsibility that our long-term commitment implied.  I started giving all sorts of options for him – that he could start subbing at schools to get some teaching experience under his belt, that he could go to the far away State U, that he could transfer to UNO.  Somehow that last one stuck and I didn’t even know it.

And now, how do I feel?  Well, I threw down the gauntlet at a meeting with my advisor, telling her that all I wanted to do was move back to New Orleans, whatever that meant for my career.  And I’ve been talking a big game about that – that I’ll take any job in New Orleans just to be back there – but this move by my dude makes all that much more real.  It’s a different sort of commitment.  If he makes this move and I encourage him, then I really really really am going to get a job in New Orleans.  Then I really really really am not going to worry too much about the academic career track.  That’s some crazy shit, yo.  And i don’t know if it makes sense to make that sort of commitment all because he wants New Orleans to help him get out of his rut.  But that’s not really the only reason – I already made the commitment to some degree – but – I – and – argh!

Hair still smells like smoke

This weekend brisket brought my father and I closer together.  I had a 28 minute phone call with him!  28 minutes – and the whole time, I do believe that we were engaged and actually conversing.  And all because of brisket.

My old housemates were throwing a barbecue, and I’d volunteered to help out by being on the smoking team. I and the super-chef roommate (SCR) were smoking a 6 pound brisket, a 5 pound pork shoulder, and two trout.  We had spent the whole week sending each other over-excited emails (well, really, SCR was sending me all sorts of emails while I half-assedly looked for recipes) and intense phone conversations about the smoking.  At one point, I stood in Smart & Final talking to the woman about meat while my boyfriend ran around grabbing ridiculous quantities of snackfood (there are pounds of coby jack cheese cubes in my fridge.  pounds).   At one point, this woman with an Eastern European accent and friendly eyes started asking me (an obviously harried woman yelling into a phone) what I was going to do with my big piece of meat (the ten pound brisket) that I was preparing to wrestle into my basket.  I found myself trying to answer her, while still talking to SCR and explaining that pork shoulders and pork butts are the same thing, and yelling at the boy friend to stop throwing salami into the cart.  We walked out of there $120 bucks poorer.  But at least now I have the remaining 4 pounds of brisket in my freezer.

Saturday we got started early – I was there at 8:30 am with a marinated brisket, two trout, and a baggie of ice in my garbage can.  I also had mimosa supplies, a six pack of shiner bock, and a bunch of other stuff in preparation for a looong day.  And long it was – I was there until past 11PM.

But back to the conversation.  Once the grill was going and SCR was inside working on other matters, I found myself outside minding the very finicky coals.  We’d struggled to get the grill to maintain the 230 degree temperature, and I was periodically lighting small quantities of coals and dumping them into the grill.  I was also drinking my fourth mimosa and/or beer.  So I called my dad.

And it was great!  He was also grilling, getting ready to make some kebabs, which he’d never done before.  When I explained about the trouble with the coals, he commiserated with us, expressing shock that we were trying to pull this off in a grill and not a smoker.  Then we talked about all kinds of stuff – his garden, the trees he’s having cut out of the back yard, the family’s plans for the summer, and his surprisingly strong feelings about weddings.  I had no idea!  Apparently he’s only been to a few – like 4 – his whole life and feels like they are just drama-rama-bombs.  He pointed out that of his six brothers (of which he’s actually one, so five brothers, but whatever), those who went before the justice of the peace stayed married 20 years while those who had weddings didn’t last ten.  He knows that can only mean so much, but it was still neat to hear.  And he said that he didn’t even know whether his older sisters had had weddings (he’s the baby of the family).  It was just lovely.  My dad’s an awesome dude.

But then I told him that he’d have to get used to weddings what with the four of us, and he agreed.  So that’s good.