I'm going to start sharing some stories from our recent trip to Texas. I met a million of Joe's cousins and their kids plus a friend of mine in Houston, then we met another friend in Austin and just did some random wandering around. By the time I run out of Texas stories, I should be back from a trip to see our families in NY/PA and hopefully I'll have tales to tell from that trip. If we're lucky, these stories will not involve breaking any babies.
They say you can tell a lot about a person by their handshake. I've always been very proud of mine - I think it's firm and shows that I am not some weak little girl. After spending years working in IT and in government, I liked to think that my handshake at least gave me a fighting chance of establishing myself as someone who would not be walked all over.
Then, in Texas, I met a bunch of Joe's cousins. It was a bit overwhelming for little old me with the whole travel anxiety and stranger anxiety and crowd anxiety and my deeply held belief that "family" is the ultimate F-word. Still, I kicked ass and did you all proud. There was no vomiting, no shaking, no sticking my foot too far into my mouth.
Upon introductions, some of the family hugged. Some shook hands. Some knocked over wine glasses with their tales (ok, that might've been the dog). But I hugged and shook and tipped back glasses of wine with the best of them.
Except the ONE cousin. It was like the worst handshake ever. Somehow my thumb ended up inside the handshake with all my other fingers and it was just weird. Not her fault. Not mine. Just a missed handshake. A week later, it's still on my mind. My handshake is awesome, I swear! But now, I'm "strange handshake girl".
Or, maybe I'm just "paranoid girl" or "over-thinking girl" and she didn't even notice. Yeah, entirely possible. But you can be sure that if our paths cross again? She is getting the best handshake EVER!