Me & my Guitar

Hi there, folks. I have some exciting news to share: Last Thursday night, I bought myself a guitar!

Though it may seem like an impulse purchase, I have dreamed of learning how to play the guitar for ages. Many years my Christmas or birthday wish lists have included “blue acoustic guitar.” And every time I watched someone playing a guitar, blue or not, I pined away.

When I saw my friend (and former sorority “big sis”) Abby’s Facebook status a few weeks ago that said she was going to begin taking guitar lessons, it just reignited that flame. I hopped on the Guitar Center website and began searching through all the brands and models—some I had lusted after before and others that were new to me. I had decided that it was time to stop wishing, to stop saying, ‘oh, I’ve always wanted to learn how to play the guitar’ and just do it. There’s no time like the present, right? It was time to make my own dream come true.

So on Thursday night, that’s just what I did. I convinced my brother Patrick to come with me to my local Guitar Center for moral support but even still I was a bit overwhelmed by all the choices. When the employee helping me placed a contender in my hand, I wasn’t quite sure what to do. I didn’t know any chords to play or even which strings were which notes! But my Ibanez acoustic-electric guitar (with transparent blue sunburst) looked good and felt good, and I had read glowing reviews online. Ultimately, it won out over the also beautiful Epiphone Hummingbird (with the heritage cherry sunburst design) and, tucked inside a new cushioned case, the Ibanez came home with me.

This past weekend I started fiddling around with my new instrument. After looking up which string is which note, I successfully tuned my guitar! Then I watched a few tutorials on YouTube and learned to play a very basic version of Beethoven’s “Ode to Joy”—albeit, very slowly. One step at a time…

It is bittersweet that my older brother Jeremy isn't around to help me through this learning process. He was a natural talent when it came to making music. He would create funny songs about me and my stuffed animal while strumming on his acoustic guitar and I remember there were many nights he would stay up late playing on his electric—until my mother came up to his room and told him to stop because the younger kids were trying to sleep! If he were here, I know he would have me jamming in no time. But his memory serves as a source of motivation to keep at it even when it gets tough, as I know it will! Sure, I sing and read music and used to play the oboe, but the guitar is a whole other animal.

As I am still very new to this whole guitar thing, any and all tips are welcome from those veteran guitarists out there! I'd love to hear your thoughts-- what most helped you when you were starting out? Am I crazy to think I can learn without taking formal lessons?

Photo taken by Patrick. He wanted to make sure I gave him proper credit. :) Thanks bro!

Twin tragedies forge new perspectives

Ten years ago, tragedy struck our nation in a sudden, profound and devastating way.

Our world was forever changed.

Ten years ago, tragedy struck my family, in a similarly heartwrenching way.

My life was forever changed. On April 26, 2001, my older brother, Jeremy Weed, was killed in a drunk driving accident.

Driving home in the early morning hours, my brother’s friend fell asleep at the wheel. When his Ford Bronco veered right across the 101 Freeway and careened into an illegally parked tractor-trailer, the driver survived unscathed. Jeremy was killed instantly.

We all know what happened Sept. 11 of that year.

Planes hijacked by Al Qaeda terrorists slammed into the World Trade Center, the Pentagon and— due to brave passengers who retook control of United Airlines Flight 93, whose intended target was presumably the Capitol or the White House—a field in Shanksville, Pa.

I remember going to school that morning, a junior at Simi Valley High School. My peers and I were glued to the TV screens, watching the newscasts in shock and horror.

Later that night, I sobbed as we viewed the replay. Watching the Twin Towers fall—my own personal loss still fresh in my heart and mind—I cried for all that had been taken from me and all the pain and suffering now inflicted on those across the nation, particularly those in New York City. I knew that pain all too well, the kind that leaves you eternally asking “Why?”

Crisis can make us better or worse as people. In the wake of Jeremy’s death I gained new perspective, and I like to believe I’ve become a stronger, more compassionate and more empathetic person.

The same can be said of our country in the days following 9/11.

United by tragedy—and yes, anger—we bonded together and held each other up. Confronted by fear and hate from abroad, patriotism had perhaps never been so high. The stars and stripes waved from porches and Porsches.

After a tragedy people sometimes say that “time will heal all wounds.” But those who have lost someone, especially in a sudden and senseless way, know the truth: Time just makes it easier to bear the pain. The sharpness, the sting, fades. But the memory doesn’t, nor does a longing to be able to change the past, to bring back what we’ve lost.

Unfortunately, sometimes the lessons of disaster also fade. It’s nearly 10 years later and our nation is, in many ways, more divided than ever. But anniversaries bring an opportunity for reflection—to consider the past and remind us of the way to move forward.

Jeremy’s life was cut far too short at just 26 years old—he was the age that I am now.

It is my aim to live a life that he would be proud of.

Likewise, while Sept. 11, 2001, was a dark day, I hope this 10th anniversary of the terrorist attacks will spur us on to live in a way that will honor the spirit of those who lost their lives, those who risked their well-being to save another, those who have gone overseas to fight for our freedom and those who helped pick up the pieces and rise from the ashes to rebuild.

Courage, selflessness, love for country and thy neighbor, and resilience in the face of adversity— that is 9/11’s legacy, today and every day.

This story ran in the Sept. 9, 2011 edition of the Simi Valley Acorn.

Mother's Day Brunch

My momma, holding (and wearing!) her Mother's Day gifts

All you moms, grandmas, moms-to-be and, well, anyone who has ever loved like only a mother can, I hope you had a wonderful day!

To celebrate Mother's Day, my family went to brunch at The Cheesecake Factory. The restaurant was a bit hectic and there was a few mishaps with food not coming out correctly, but the server was great in fixing everything and he even comped a couple items on the bill. And the food, once corrected, was pretty darn tasty! (Though it put me in a food coma for the rest of the afternoon!)

Instead of going with my typical Sunday brunch order of Eggs Benedict, I decided to try something new: Baja Chicken Hash. Imagine poached eggs drizzled in hollandaise sauce sat atop two crispy tortillas and a hash of chicken chorizo, potatoes, poblano chiles, corn, peppers and onions (hold the cheese!). I would describe it as almost a Mexican-style Eggs Benny, so I guess I didn't go too far outside of my comfort zone :)

After we ordered our breakfasts, I presented our mom with her gift. Now that she has opened it, I can finally blog about it!

Last weekend, I scoured Etsy looking for a Mother's Day gift. I literally searched through all of my favorite shops but I couldn't find that just-right thing. I found one necklace that I was thisclose to purchasing but then decided to spend a little more time searching. After a few minutes, I stumbled upon a new-to-me, New York-based jewelry shop called Delezhen. I instantly fell in love with the beautiful jewels and delicate designs. Everything is very feminine and perfect for spring. After much hemming and hawing over three different pieces, I decided to go with this colorful, faceted jewel necklace with freshwater pearl accents.

 Faceted Bezel Set Multi Color Sapphire in 22k Gold Vermeil Necklace 

with Freshwater Pearl Accents

I thought it looked pretty and special but could also easily be dressed up or down. I also thought it kind of looked like a Mother's Day necklace in a non-obvious way, with the three stones representing me, my younger brother Patrick and my older brother Jeremy.

(As a side note, Masha is a fantastic seller! I was worried the necklace wouldn't get to me in time since I ordered it Monday morning, but she sent me a message letting me know she would put it in the mail that very day. I actually got a shipping confirmation before I got that message! And my package arrived Wednesday. Couldn't have asked for better customer service. Plus, the necklace was even prettier and more dainty in person.)

Since my mom wasn't wearing any jewelry, I had her put her new necklace on right away. It went perfect with her turquoise sweater! You can see it in the top photo, but here's a close up:

We also got her an oats-and-honey scented candle in a nice white, lidded pot (like this one), which will look perfect in our recently redecorated blue-and-white living room. My brother picked out the fragrance. We both thought it smelled like breakfast-- how appropriate!

Speaking of Patrick, here he is! It's not often I get him to smile in a photo for me! (He's been dieting and exercising and he's lost a lot of weight-- 40 lbs! You can really see the difference when you look at this old photo.)

And here's my dad too, giving me one of his goofy faces.

Haha, nice dad! And here's me. Cheers! (I think I still look a little sleepy, but that mimosa perked me right up!)

What did you do to celebrate Mother's Day? I'd love to hear!

xoxo,

Missing you

Today was a busy day at work. In some ways that's a good thing. I wasn't allowed to really dwell on what this day means. But I also didn't have time to visit the cemetery, which I feel a bit guilty about. Not really guilty I guess, I just wanted to go. But I know Jeremy wouldn't mind. He would understand.

Today is the 10th anniversary of my brother's death. I've talked about it on here before and I know it is not exactly a happy topic, but I can't let the day go by without acknowledging it somehow.

Even though it is just one day, I've been thinking about this day for several months. I've long been aware that this would be the 10-year anniversary. It is hard to believe it has been that long. When I mentioned it to my best friend last week, she couldn't believe it either.

But more than that, I've also long realized that this year I would turn 26. I am the same age my brother was when he was killed. It's a bit surreal. I try to imagine myself in his place and I can't. He always seemed so much older. Now that I am his age, I can't comprehend it. I feel like I have just started to live my life and there's still so much more I want to accomplish. I guess it just reaffirms what I've always known. Jeremy was taken far too soon. He had so much potential, so much more to do and give and see and be. But the unpredictability of life stepped in and his time here was cut short. I'll never understand why, I've accepted that. It is what it is and you can't really find meaning in it. You just have to learn from it, grow from it and move on in the best way you can. And I think I've done that for the most part.

But no matter how many years are put between then and now, I'll never stop remembering. And I'll never stop missing my big brother. My goofy, good-hearted brother. It's funny, most times I feel "fine" about the whole thing. I think of him with only joy in my heart. It has been a decade after all. But then there's those other times that startle me with a whoosh of emotion-- sadness, of course, and a longing to be able to change the unchangeable. Times like right now, when I'm trying to fight the tears. I should just let them fall.

---

Jeremy, I'm sorry I wasn't able to visit you today. I was going to bring you a beer this year instead of flowers. I thought the rebel in you might appreciate that. Maybe I'll come out to sit with you this weekend. It's hard for me to do, but sometimes it's good to just feel it. Until then, know that you are in my thoughts today and every day, and everyone down here misses you. A lot. I love you forever.

Your little sis,

P.S. I'm disabling comments for this one. But if you got this far, thank you so much for reading.

Deck the Halls ~ Merry Christmas!

I just spent the whole day wrapping presents and listening to Christmas carols.

After a couple hours, the novelty of that wore off fast. Ha!

But really, no exaggerations, when I wasn't out helping my dad shop for my mom-- it's our very last-minute tradition-- I was at home, sitting uncomfortably on the floor, surrounded by rolls of paper, swirls of ribbon and a bevy of bows.

The Christmas music did make it better though. I love Christmas music. And singing along to Christmas music. Especially the classics sang by music legends. Like Nat King Cole. Bing Crosby. Frank Sinatra. Eartha Kitt. You know the ones. They all kept me company while I folded and taped.

Despite all the hours and effort, I'm excited for when my family will tear into all my hard work tomorrow morning. Only in a few hours really. It's already after midnight here... I hope they like their gifts!

Before I head to bed and listen for reindeer hoofs "up on the rooftop"-- see, still got those carols in my head-- I thought I'd show you what my house looks like at Christmastime. Like I mentioned in my last post, we didn't have a tree until about a week ago. Why? Well, because we recently got new, hardwood floors! Bye, bye carpet! You can sneak a peek in the photo above, and see a sliver of our new furniture, too.

Anyway, let the mini-house tour, well, living room tour, begin:

Every year my mom turns our staircase into candy cane land. I love it.

These bells were my mom's mom's. That would be my grandma. I never met her, unfortunately, but I hear wonderful things all the time. These bells are very special. And they hold our mistletoe. Kiss, kiss!

I have claimed the task of setting up the nativity set every year. See, this bit of Christmas decor is very special to me. My grandma, my dad's mom, hand-painted each piece. I am totally biased, but it is the most beautiful nativity I've ever seen.

I always set up the little animals differently. I can never remember what I did the last year. This time, the cow is peeking in from the side of the manager. But the stars of the scene never change-- and I always put in baby Jesus last.

Our fireplace-- that my dad designed-- gets dressed up, too. My mom hangs garland from the mantel and sets up all those little stuffed animals on the hearth; they're from her work (Starbucks!).

Oh, Christmas Tree! Sparkling at night. It's the real thing. We like the pine smell.

Reflecting in the mirror... Don't you love my snowman? I made that in elementary school. We had to bring in one of our socks for his cap! I remember being very upset back then that there wasn't one more black pom-pom for his mouth. I had to put a brown one in the middle. Even then I was a perfectionist-- and enjoyed symmetry.  :)

Did you "deck the halls" at your home this year? What are your Christmas decorating traditions? Whatever you do, I hope it is wonderful. Because guess what? It's here! :) Merry Christmas, my loves. I hope your day is full of joy and laughter with friends and family. Because no matter what is under the tree, it is the people in our lives who are our true gifts.

xoxo,

Family bonding

Sometimes, my brother and I are sooo different. What we think, how we act, what we like, what we do. Of course, most of our differences can easily be explained by the simple fact of gender-- you know, the old "Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus" thing.

For example, while I would be just smitten to receive a brand new kit of makeup brushes, my brother would be overjoyed to get a shiny new set of ... tools.

Well, that last part is exactly what happened today.

Today was-- and still is for another half hour or so-- my little brother's birthday. (Though, as you can tell by the photo, he's not so little.) Every December, Patrick catches up to me. See, we are a year and nine months apart. Most of the time, our ages appear to be separated by two years. But on December 14 he narrows the gap. I'm 25 and today, Patrick turned the big 2-4.

(He, like me, has started to realize that anything after the "big 2-1" is really not all that exciting anymore.)

My brother is impossibly hard to buy for-- he either won't tell you what he wants or he will list a bunch of gun-related paraphernalia that is way out of my price range or comprehension-- and that frustrating fact is only compounded because of his birthday's proximity to Christmas. Not only do I have to come up with one fabulous birthday gift, a mere 10 days later I have to deliver another smile-eliciting, thrill-inducing present.

Well, I am proud to say that this year, I have done good-- so far.

Taking my father's advice, I bought for my brother a 24-piece 3/8 in. drive ratchet and socket set by Kobalt that comes in a handy blue storage case. Turns out my brother is always borrowing my dad's set to work on his car, so he was in need of his own.

(Let me just mention here that when I went to Lowe's to purchase said case, I was looking ultra-girly and wearing heels. I thought for sure some store employee would catch one glimpse of the wide-eyed blonde scouring the tool aisle, take pity on me and rush to my aid. No such luck. I know we live in the 21st century but really, I'm not afraid to admit it: I know nothing of tools. So next time Lowe's, help a girl out!)

I wasn't sure how the gift would go over since my brother is awfully hard to please but he ended up loving it! After peeling off the wrapping he immediately opened the case and started fiddling with the ratchet and trying out the sockets. He said it was "cool" and thanked me several times. I even got a hug! (And we're not a very huggy family. Yeah, I just made that word up.)

I was tickled pink that he truly liked the gift and I know that the socket set will get far more use than the beer brewing kit I got him last year (for Christmas I believe). That "out of the box" gift-giving idea is still sitting, well, in the box.

So I guess there's just one thing left to say: Thank you, 24-piece 3/8 in. drive socket set. You brought a sister and a brother, who are often worlds apart, together, if only for a few moments. You even got us to hug.

Patrick and I, circa 2008. I obviously need to force him to take more photos.

Happy Halloween!

Happy Halloween, everyone! This afternoon, Hazel and I took part in the second annual Howl-O-Ween Pooch Parade at Lemon Park in Simi. (Hazel was a princess at last year's inaugural event, remember?) It is a warm, beautiful fall day here-- the perfect day for a parade.

Hazel had tons of fun sniffing around, making new friends and making people smile. She did the sweetest thing: As we were walking the route, Hazel veered off the path and made a beeline for a woman in a wheelchair who was watching the parade go by. Hazel jumped up and said hi. It made the little old lady so happy. I have the kindest dog, I must say.

We later went around the vendor booths, which included one from our own vet, and Hazel got a few treats out of the deal. And isn't she just the cutest in her pumpkin dress? Not exactly frightening, but adorable, yes! (At least, in my biased opinion.) There were some great costumes this year, and lots of owners matching their four-legged friends. (Unfortunately, I don't have a pumpkin shirt in my closet.)

A few more pictures from the parade because I'm a proud mama and I can't help myself:

On the route around the civic center

 

Cooling off in the shade after the walk 

 My mom came at the beginning of the march to keep us company

Treat? Did someone say treat?

Hazel is thoroughly exhausted now, passed out in my bed as I type.

I hope you are having a wonderful day, whether you are painting the town orange tonight or getting ready for an evening at home passing out candy. I'm still not sure which one I am doing! Maybe I'll make some cookies until I figure out exactly what it is I'm going to do. :)

Have fun and be safe!

xo,

My life in boxes

As I told you the other day, I'm moving. (Again.)

But what I didn't tell you is where I'm moving to.

Cue Bon Jovi: Who says you can't go home...

Yep, that's right. Unfortunately and fortunately, I'm moving back home. To my parents' house.

I say unfortunately because moving home seems like a step backwards. I'm 25 years old and I'm going to be living with my parents. Now, I know that 20-somethings moving back in with their 'rents is a growing trend in today's economy and nothing I should feel ashamed about, but I have to admit, I do feel a little embarrassed.

In many ways, I have been "on my own" since I went off to college freshman year. Yes, I did come home each summer and after graduation I stayed at my parents' house for a few months. But as soon as I was able, I moved out to live in an apartment with my best friend, Marielle (and really, I wasn't financially ready to do it and it was probably not the best decision but I did it anyway).

After living with Marielle and two dudes for a year, I moved into an apartment with the boy. And then we moved into another apartment, where we are now. In the three years since I graduated I have moved four times (counting moving home from college) and now I'm moving again! And oh man, do I hate moving. (It just reminds me how much stuff I have and how big of a pack rat I am!)

But besides from not wanting to move home because of the whole "independence" thing, I am also worried because I honestly think that my parents and I get along a lot better since I moved out. (Mom, don't take that the wrong way!) I think we'll be fine because I have grown up; I'm not a teenager anymore, after all. But these past few years, I could go over to my parents house when I wanted to, call when I wanted to talk... I'm sure those of you who live on your own understand. So I say all this to say that while moving home is not the end of the world, it will take a bit of adjustment. (And, a lot of cleaning! Almost done with that though, almost done.)

On the other hand, I say it is fortunate for me to be moving home because, well, let's face it, it will save me a lot of money. Luckily, my parents haven't asked me to pay rent while living at home. And luckily, I have parents who actually want to take me back in! I do realize that isn't the case for some people, so I am grateful that my parents would let me come home, for free, no problem. No hesitation. They are happy to have me back. (And I'm triply lucky that home is just 15 minutes across town.)

And that is the main reason I am moving back home: to save money. I have found myself living paycheck to paycheck for quite some time (High rents in Simi + low income + no chance of a raise + no time to get a second job {and I did apply for one recently only to come to my senses} = financial instability) and things only got worse when the boy lost his job. I found myself having to loan him money that I didn't really have. Moving home will give me a chance to actually save some dough. (Remember my No. 1 New Year's resolution?) Maybe I'll even open a savings account!

So while there are some drawbacks to going home, there are definite benefits, too.

Our lease is up Friday and I spent much of the weekend packing up my life in boxes, so to speak. There's still more to do but by Saturday I will officially be a "boomerang kid."

Images via we heart it, here and here.

Happy Sunday! I hope you all had wonderful weekends and that you were able to spend some time with Mom today!

My dad and I took my mother out for an early brunch at The Cheesecake Factory. Eggs Benedict and a mimosa for me, crab hash and a Bloody Mary for my mom and a pinwheel of French toast for my dad. (I took pictures but I'll spare you this time.) The meal was delicious but the portions were huge as usual, leaving us (especially me!) sleepy for the rest of the day. (I had to grab a grande iced vanilla latte at Starbucks at 3 p.m. just to wake myself up!)

For gifts, my dad got my mom a 1 lb. box of marzipan from See's. (Her favorite candy.) And I got her a new pair of summery, sparkly sandals. They matched the dress she wore to breakfast so she slipped them on the moment she took them out of the shoebox... I guess she liked them! Success!

After a long nap (I told you I was tired!), my parents fixed my car (read: they topped off the coolant once again since no matter how many times we take it in, that gosh darn light keeps coming on, and then replaced the bulb in my brake light so I won't get pulled over) and then I played some old school arcade games with my brother, Patrick, and his friend, Adam. We played a bit of Geometry Wars, Sonic the Hedgehog and Mortal Combat. It was fun but I remember kicking so much more ass at these games when I was younger! I guess I'll have to practice :)

So that's my weekend-- well, Sunday-- recap. How was yours?

Happy Mother's Day to all you moms out there!

xo,


P.S. On Friday night we went to see Iron Man 2. It was fabulous, just as good as the first if not better! And RDJ-- Robert Downey Jr., that is-- is so funny! I love him as the cocky Tony Stark. And I might just have a girl crush on Scarlett Johansson. She is just so gorgeous! I hate her and love her at the same time! No one should look that good in a cat suit.

Forever in my heart

Every step I take, every move I make

Every single day, every time I pray

I'll be missing you

Thinking of the day, when you went away

What a life to take, what a bond to break

I'll be missing you

On that morning, when this life is over

I know, I'll see your face . . .

Today was somewhat of a somber day for me. Definitely a day of reflection.

Today is the nine-year anniversary of my brother Jeremy's death.

No matter how many years go by, this day never gets any easier. Most days I remember my brother cheerfully, but this day is different. It can't help but be. But the more time marches on, the more I start to worry that I will somehow forget him. That my memories will get fuzzier and fuzzier until soon he has completely faded from my mind.

That's why I got my tattoo last May. So that I would have a constant visual reminder of him, every single day. And it has worked. No matter how busy I get, I catch a glimpse of that little swallow, his initials under its wing, and I remember. I remember so many things. And I smile.

Even still, I worry. The other day I was talking to my best friend about Jeremy, reminiscing a bit since she is one of the few people in my life besides family who actually knew him. At one point we were talking about how I used to braid his long, curly hair. But then I couldn't remember if he still had long hair when he died-- I don't think he did, but it unnerved me that I couldn't quite recall. I think that might be one of the biggest fears people have after they lose someone. That they will forget those precious memories. That they will forget what the person looked like, sounded like-- and because of that, they have to keep feeling the pain so that they will not forget. They can't move on because they don't want to leave that loved one behind, in the past, where the cobwebs creep into our memories.

I have, of course, moved on. Life inevitably goes on, no matter what tragedy befalls you. You laugh again, smile again, get to a point where you can talk about that person and not crumble into tears. It's a strange but necessary thing.

As I drove to the cemetery this afternoon, all these things were going through my mind. Then, for a brief moment, I felt nothing. And I got scared. I looked over to the flowers sitting on my passenger seat, in the car my brother used to drive, and I thought, "Why don't I feel sad?" Just as quickly as that thought came into my head, I shook it away, urging myself to just stop thinking-- about work, about blogging, about all the things that fill my mind on a daily basis-- and I let myself really feel. His image and my memories flooded my mind, and tears came to my eyes. A knot caught in my throat and I felt a heaviness on my heart. I laughed a little. "There it is. There he is," I told myself. "I haven't lost him. Don't worry, you can't forget because he is in your heart. Forever."

Nine years ago, at my brother's private viewing, a 16-year-old me slipped a note-- folded in the shape of a heart-- into my brother's hand. Though I've tried, I can't quite remember what I wrote then, what words I wanted Jeremy to hold onto for eternity. But I'm pretty sure I said "I miss you. I wish you were here." And I still do. After fussing with the flowers by his grave and cleaning his marker-- the things we do to keep from crying-- I told him so again.

I love you, Jeremy. I miss you. I wish you were here, big brother. I think about you all the time and I will never forget you.

Art for the young at heart + Happy Easter!

Vintage Modern Tea Party

I stumbled across Lindsay Brackeen's Etsy shop yesterday and simply fell in love with her sunny, youthful paintings. Now I realize that her prints are intended to go up in a nursery or a young girl's room-- which they would be truly perfect for-- but I want them for myself! Aren't they just so adorably cheery? And I love the spring-y, Easter-y pastel colors she uses. I posted a few of my favorites below.

Crafty Girl and Sunshine Owl Girl

This would be perfect to give a Sister or Best Friend. Reminds me of my bestie!

Lindsay even creates more fashionable, mixed-media prints, like this Pale Little Dotty.

This just might be my absolute fave. Love the birds and the lotus flowers... and I want the dress this Pink Nature Girl is wearing!

To see them all, check out Lindsay's shop and blog. And tell me which one is your fave!

Till then, I hope you are enjoying your weekend and that you have a very happy Easter! What are you doing tomorrow to celebrate? I'm not sure yet if I am going to my parents' house for a prime rib dinner or going out with the boy's family for perhaps a fancier meal at the Marriott. But both sound like yummy options! I'm always torn on these types of holidays though-- where to go? The boy's whole local extended family will be at the Marriott, and his mom has a birthday present she wants to give me; but if I don't go to my parents' house, it will just be my 'rents and my brother eating together, which I feel bad about. Do you have to deal with this kind of situation, and how do you decide where to go?