Filling out the sandwich

Here's a little more background, in case you don't already know me.

I'm no one of significant importance to anyone other than myself and my loved ones. I don't aspire to fame or tremendous fortune. I just want to be surrounded by loved ones and live a comfortable, simple life liberally seasoned with fun.

I enjoy writing. A lot. I write everyday. Haven't been paid for it yet, but my work has been read all over the world. I like to write, to share my thoughts, because it helps me sort things out in my mind. I've been told that my writing has inspired and helped others in their lives. I write pretty candidly. And honestly. I try to give credit where it's due. Sometimes I make up stuff, but I sell it!

My people are Greek. My father's parents emigrated to California, at different times, but ended up together eventually and raised a family, hoping to make a better life for themselves. I'll tell you their stories sometime. I find them fascinating. My mother also emigrated from Greece and married my father, who was born in California. They recently celebrated their 50th anniversary. I'll tell you my mother's story sometime as well. Anyone who knows me will tell you that I will require a lot of server space in order to share that tale.

My parents had two daughters. I'm the older one. My sister lives with her husband and three children, not too far from me. I'm in the process of disentangling myself from a disappointing marriage, but I have two amazing sons. Expect me to gush endlessly about them at times.

There are more players in the story. The ex will be left out for now, because I'm still far too angry to go there. I have some really wonderful friends, some of whom enjoy their privacy, so I will respect that.

One of my friends and I like to time me to see how long it takes me to tell people I'm Greek. Look! It took me nearly 24 hours! Greeks are funny that way. There's this line in My Big Fat Greek Wedding, where the father says something like, "There are two kinds of people...Greeks, and those who wish they was Greek." I've observed that mostly those up to the first generation American-born Greeks feel like that, pretty strongly. We're the ones that have kept the faith, so to speak. After that, you meet children of Greeks who have married non-Greeks (xenos), and those children know all the cuisine and the Greek swear words, but that's about it. By the third generation, they're all as American as the rest of the middle America. I even have cousins in Texas who speak Greek with as much twang as any self-respecting Texan can muster. Yes, it sounds ridiculous!

So there I am, a first gen middle-aged Greek woman, raising second gen non-Greek-speaking spawn of a recalcitrant xeno, all the while getting fed steadily unsolicited non sequitur advice from immigrant elderly parents struggling with their relevance in a modern and nonsensical world.  It's a wonder I don't drink more heavily!