A smoke-free get-together.

Today we had a party for my mother's birthday. Her actual birthday was Thursday. Her age will not be discussed. Nothing at all fancy. It was her, me, my sister, and her friend Grace and we had dinner. She made lasagna. I made the sauce, though, because I make the best ever. No, I do. No... I do. Ever. And we had salad and bread and some cake, and I made crème brulée. It was almost perfect. It's the first time I'd ever attempted making it, and I didn't realize until today that my culinary torch did not come supplied with fuel. I knew my sister would know where to get butane, but I didn't think to ask her until she was already on her way down. So I had to try to carmelize the sugar using the broiler, and it was only somewhat successful. My attempts were applauded nonetheless. Everything else went very well. My sister and I got my mother tickets to Dirty Rotten Scoundrels, which she will go see later in the month with my Auntie Pat. Yeah, the birthday thing is getting celebrated for a month. And I also surprised her with all these other gifts that she didn't know she was getting (because of the expense of the tickets, we told her that was all she should expect to get. Ha!), including a decorative egg that we saw a woman in California make on Crafters Coast to Coast on HGTV, and I told her "I could make you one of those" and so I did.

For her actual birthday, we had dinner together. I made her baked salmon with garlic and olive oil with potato and salad with apricot vinagrette dressing.

I am so freaking crafty and domestic, I should have my own show. ... That would include many shots of me sitting in front of a computer.

Anyway, what is the title all about? Well, my mother is a smoker. I live with her. So, I live with a smoker. Ordinarily, this is not so much of a problem. Because she doesn't smoke that much (or so I'm given to understand by people who smoke) and I spend a lot of time planted in front of the computer and out of draft of her smoke. Holidays and birthdays, general get-together times, are different though. My sister smokes. My Auntie Pat smokes. Grace smokes (or at least, she did - she informed us tonight that she quit). And holidays involve a lot of people gathered together, smoking.

Now, I'm not one of those annoying people who hates smoke and smokers. I don't care if you smoke. Beyond the fact that, if I care about you, I don't want you to get lung cancer, I don't care. But I am a tiny delicate flower, and it really sucks sometimes. Smoke affects me. Christmas is the worst. Since my sister is a full-fledged adult now and lives in her own home, she has for the past few years decided that she wants to do Christmas up by her. So, my mother's there, my sister's there, my sister's best friend Cherilyn is there (she smokes a lot), and my sister lets my uncle smoke in the house (which my mother doesn't, because he chain smokes unfiltereds). Besides the occasion jocular comment that I just can't avoid, I never say anything. Because I love my family, and I don't give people shit. I don't see the point. But it's like torture sometimes.

Because I can't leave. My presence is required at dinner functions. So I have to stay downstairs, in rooms filled with people smoking, clouded by smoke, and I can't go outside either, because my family doesn't have any summer birthdays, so it's always cold out. And I have to be there for hours. In the last few hours of Christmas Eve this year, all I wanted to do was go home and maybe vomit. Because I felt so ill.

Even today, which was really not bad at all, was not real fun. I had a tissue at my constantly running nose all night. By 8 my eyes started stinging and feeling bleary. They're glazed and rather red at the moment. My face is hot, I feel nauseous, and breathing has been easier. And now, like always, I'm wretchedly tired.

I'm using this time in my blog to complain about what I never complain about out loud at said dinner functions. Because today, I think, I became actively tired off it. It officially became something that makes me not look forward to doing family stuff, doing things and parties with friends who smoke, just ... any situation where I know I'm going to have to deal with this. Before I sat down to type this out, the thought crossed my mind of going to a party where no one was smoking. It was a completely unexpected thought, and my heart nearly burst from joy at the very idea. I have no idea what that would be like, but I bet it would be pretty sweet. I bet it would be pretty nice to live someplace where no one smoked.

Again, I feel it necessary to point out that, if you smoke, I don't care. This is not about lecturing or trying to make anyone feel guilty for smoking. But I'm sensitive to everything. Smoke makes me sick. And when your whole family is around you and not even noticing when their smoke is blowing directly into your bleary-eyed face, it's aggravating. There's only so many places I can move at still be around people.

Uh. On a less irritable note, I'd really like to start making clay figurines again. I used to do it at this wooden table we had in the kitchen, but we got rid of that when we moved, and I really don't have a suitable workspace anymore. But I was always sure that I could make lots of money overpricing and selling them. I have artistic flair.

*blows nose*