It's all relative

38 weeks left
15 weeks down
12 weeks until mid-tour leave (new stat…and new workout/ weight goal to aim for)
15 total pounds lost
15(ish) months until the wedding

(And see friends, this is why we do the average weight over time. I finally stepped on the scale today, hands actually over my eyes, peeking out between ever-so- slightly spread fingers, only to realize that in the last month of eating every.single.thing in sight, and complete dietary meltdown, I really only gained back 7 pounds. I thought it was going to be oh-so-much more. I am encouraged by this because if complete and utter champagne/ wedding food/ birthday food/ vacation food/ no exercise/ umbrella drinks/ BBQ picnics and sweets all day long for entire a month only gains me back 7 pounds…then moderation for the rest of the year should totally do the trick. And I’m finally done traveling for awhile, so I can exercise and get back on the diet wagon and start anew. And look at that…I’m now back on track for 1 pound a week. All is right with the deployment diet: Operation Wedding Dress continues.)

One of the things that I talk about in my courses with my students is relativity. No, not the crazy Einstein kind where letters stand for numbers and I black out about thirty seconds into the conversation because math is hard. We talk about how things are basically all relative to the context in which you are situated: what means one thing to you in your life, may not mean the same thing to other people in theirs…or might mean something completely different to you if you were in an strange setting or an advanced age. (Wanna watch J and I basically get into a mental fist fight? Throw the topic of relative/ situational ethics out there on the table and watch the madness ensue. It’s a lot like two starving hyenas getting thrown a fresh gazelle carcass, each one of us suddenly becoming scrappy and ravenous, losing even the guise of propriety in trying to outfox or out muscle the other one from sole possession of the win. To be quite honest with you, I don’t even remember where I stand on the matter anymore…or where he does either actually. But man do we enjoy fighting about it. I know…we’re *those* kinds of geeks. It’s fine.)

I’ve been thinking a lot about the word “relative” recently, both in the context of the family/ relations definition and in the “it’s-all-contextual-and-interdependent-on-other-stuff” meaning as well.

I have spent the last ten days on the road visiting friends, the first installment of which on the Eastern Shore with former co-workers of mine. While I am not related by blood to any of the people I spent time with, I would say that all of them were my “family”…that we are, in fact, related to one another. They are people with whom I share a bond of some kind…who have become very close to me over the almost ten years of our acquaintance. As my dear Meriam Webster puts it, we are “connected either logically or causally or by shared characteristics.” The characteristics we shared in the beginning were merely a similar passion for education, and a shared office space. But in the time passed, our connection has seen us through firings and retiring and moves and growth; joys and triumphs and celebrations and happiness; cancer and illness and death and recovery. Several tears…and so many laughs. That’s what family is all about. “Related” or not. And that’s how these folks earned the title.

While visiting these friends at their beach house this week, I was introduced to a new set of friends from my former boss’s (aka “Virginia dad’s”) new job. And just like he did at the place where we met, he has established an affinity group of like-minded individuals at his new job as well, people I feel like I have known for years, just by virtue of stories shared. Plus, if Virginia dad likes someone, I’m pretty sure I’m going to like them, too. Because he’s good people. And he attracts the same.

There is one in particular that he has become very close to, someone he calls his “son.” After having spent only about thirty minutes with this new friend, I knew he was “one of us.” But he had to do the math for me. “So let me get this straight. If our lovely host here says I’m like his son, and he says YOU are like his daughter, that would make US brother and sister, yes?”

“I suppose it would.”

And then he punched my arm like we were siblings. For the rest of the weekend, he called me Sister. And somehow, that seemed exactly right, even though we had just met.

After my week at the beach (I’m totally tan, by the way…and very relaxed), I pushed off and went to visit the future in-laws… and brothers’-in-law…and aunts and uncles and counsins’-in-law and, well, J’s whole fam damily (as my sweet mother used to like to say…mostly to watch my dad cringe slightly as his eyes rolled at her subtle wink toward cursing. I loved watching my parents play this back and forth game.)

Though I know I’ve said it before, I think it bears repeating now: I am very fortunate to be marrying into a pretty great family. Since the first day I met them all, they have acted like I was already part of the clan. And let me tell you what, this weekend was the true test. I went to visit them for the annual family reunion BBQ in which my in-laws and about, oh, 200 or so of their closest friends (and mostly relatives) descend upon the block for the big outdoor family throw-down (in its 18^th year this year, remarkably!) This year was my third: Two years ago being only my second “date” with J, in which I was first introduced to the whole family (and I mean the WHOLE family). Talk about getting tossed in the deep end!

While I adore J’s immediate family- mom, dad, and brothers, I was a little nervous going into this BBQ without J at my side (needless to say, I missed him terribly.) This was the first time I was there not as some girl that J was seeing, but instead as the soon-to-be newest member of this family, there this weekend not just on my behalf, but representing the both of us—our little two-man side of the family. (This is something that Army spouses get used to, I’m assuming. I’m still a newbie. It’ll get easier…)

I was at the house less than 15 minutes before mom-to-be gave me lovely gifts and put me to work (just like a real daughter!) Dad-to-be asked the important dad-type questions: how was my father doing, and was my car running ok. Brothers 1 and 2 started in with the playful banter, the teasing like that we were actual siblings, in an evening that ended with us sitting on the front porch, drinking beers and laughing into the wee hours of the morning. It was, as always, an easy and perfect fit. But with J’s immediate fam, it’s always easy. The next day, I would face the masses!

On the day of the actual BBQ, there were times I sorta felt like the guest of honor. And p.s. this had very little to do with me, by the way…they all wanted to hear how J was doing—where he was, what he needed in care packages, and all that. They also admired my gorgeous ring and wanted to hear about wedding plans. (Additionally, they wanted to hear how J proposed to me…which was a story that I told several times…and everyone agrees that after that trainwreck of a day, it IS in fact amazing that J still wants to marry me. The engagement story is outstanding and will be for another time…but well worth the wait.)

Basically, this was the first time I had attended something on his side of the family by myself in which I was there on our behalf—on HIS behalf. I found it pretty incredible how many folks wanted to sit down and just chat, to take considerable time out of their days to just check in on me and him and us. That’s pretty special. Because I hardly know many of them- have barely been on the scene for two years. And honestly, we’re not even related. But you’d never know it. To them, I’m already family.

Mr. Webster’s second definition of “related” makes more sense here; “connected by kinship, common origin, or marriage.” So yes, eventually the latter. But already the former seems to fit. We are in fact connected by a kinship. And our common origin, our shared interest, is J. And I’m so thankful for that.

So now I’m home from ten days on the road spent with random people, in off-beat places, with fairly intense interactions. I suppose that’s not a bad way to spend a vacation, yes? And I guess that what I’ve found at the end of that time is that being related is, well, all relative. Because while technically not related to anyone I spent time with, our kinship, our bond, our shared interests and common characteristics dictate otherwise. It’s reassuring to know that family can be found anywhere there is a group of caring individuals with a shared purpose. And I think that’s pretty amazing.