Today I went with the PseudoRelatives to both a Roman Catholic mass and to the LDS three-hour church marathon. The mass was in the morning. We came home for a quick lunch, and then drove to PseudoUncle's parents' ward meetinghouse to attend Sacrament Meeting, Sunday School, and Priesthood Meeting/Relief Society with them. I stayed with Pseudoaunt the entire time, which meant I had countless do-gooders trying to pry me away from PseudoAunt and drag me into Primary because I look like a little kid even though I'm seventeen. Pseudo-Aunt held onto me a little more firmly than they did and told them that she wanted me to stay with her. Even had the well-intentioned busybodies known my correct age, they still would have tried to drag me away from my PseudoAunt; they just would have tried to send me to youth Sunday School and the Young Women's meeting instead of to Primary. Either way, I was not going into any of those meetings by myself, and PseudoUncle's mom really wanted PseudoAunt to be with her and not in a class for teens. PseudoAunt would have looked like she belonged in a class of teens, and in the co-ed class, the boys would have been hitting on her nonstop, because she looks like a really hot high school sophomore, or somewhere around there.
PseudoUncle's parents' ward is also the ward of my dad's brother Michael and his family. I did not know this before today. If I had to meet up with a relative on Dad's side, Michael was probably the least of the evils (not counting Uncle Steve, whom I dearly love, or my Aunt Emilie, whom I hardly ever see because she lives in Europe). Uncle Michael, while I can't say I actually have any sort of a relationship with him, doesn't seem to despise
me. He recognized me, and after Sacrament Meeting was finished, he came over to where I was and said hello to me. He couldn't resist pointing out that his ten-year-old daughter has now passed me in size. I took it as an insult although I didn't react in such a way as to let others know. Perhaps he didn't intend it as a slight to me. He looks eerily like my dad. My Uncle Steve looks like them both, but not to the degree that they resemble each other. He's a year younger than my Uncle Steve and was on his mission at the time I was blessed against my will in an LDS church. Maybe that's why I don't hate Uncle Michael -- he didn't participate in the virtual hog-tying that took place in order to immobilize me for the blessed event.
We had dinner at PseudoUncle's parents' house. The main course was turkey, which is something I like, and his mom is an excellent cook. PseudoUncle and I, however, did not reach any sort of consensus as to how much I should eat. He behaved in a more anal manner than he usually does. He put food on my plate and told me that I was not to get up from the table until I had eaten it all. My friend, who is his nephew Jared, stayed at the table with me. Jared, who is sixteen, really likes to eat, so he had thirds while I was trying to finish my firsts. PseudoUncle told him there would be he!! to pay if he ate any of my food. The others were watching the Oscars in an adjacent room. (This is one reason I really like PseudoUncle's family. Many Mormons would not watch the Oscars because it was on a Sunday. The PseudoExtendedFamily doesn't get so caught up in all the Sadducee/Pharisee silliness.) PseudoUncle positioned himself so that he could watch both me and the Oscars.
It is pointless for me not to do what PseudoUncle tells me to do. I'm not sure what he would have done about it if I had attempted to get up from the table after he had told me to stay there, but whatever he did, I could not possibly win because he's too much bigger, stronger, and faster than I am. It took me awhile, but I ate everything he told me to eat. After I finished, he motioned for me to come over to where he was. He gave me a hug and told me I was a good girl.
PseudoUncle is better at making me do things I don't want to do than my dad is. When my dad disciplines me or tries to make me eat, he makes me very angry. When PseudoUncle does the same thing, it makes me want to try to do better at whatever it was that I screwed up. When we got into the car to return home from PseudoUnmcle's parents' house, I was apprehensive because I was sure I would hear about how much I had embarrassed them and what a complete failure I am as a person. He didn't even say a word about my eating, and PseudoAunt didn't either. When we got home, he said that there was one thing PseudoAunt and I could both do that would make him very happy: we could each eat a bowl of oatmeal and a banana before we went to bed. I ate mine right away. PseudoAunt had to do her chest physiotherapy first because it's not good to be held upside down and to have your thorax thumped for a long time right after you eat, but she ate her oatmeal after Pseudo-Uncle finished the physiotherapy. When someone asks really nicely, a nice person wouldn't want to disappoint him or her.
PseudoAunt asked me if I still have a crush on PseudoUncle. I didn't realize she knew that I used to. I quite honestly told her no, I don't, because he's too much like a dad now for me to have a crush on him. He is hot, but when someone is so much like a father, crushes aren't really part of the picture.
I still love my dad and wouldn't trade him. He sings and plays the best goodnight songs and gives the best backrubs and is the person I most want when I'm sick or scared. PseudoUncle is a better motivator, though.
Tomorrow we're snowboarding again. Yippee!!! We're leaving at 9:45 or so, and we'll head back at around 3:00, with a big lunch in the middle. PseudoUncle says PseudoAunt and I burn too many calories to snowboard for longer, plus my leg got a little sore the last time. PseudoUnlce is going to splint it this time to see if that helps. PseudoAunt is ready for the most challenging slopes, which may cause her to expend even more energy. This is another reason we'll go for a shorter time. I don't mind. I'm just very happy that we get to snowboard at all.