You can pick your nose...

... but you can't pick your relatives.

My mother loves that saying. When it comes to family, I think she's always felt like a blip of sanity on a radar screen panning a sea of the insane. Her family, my dad's family, their greater unified family as a whole -- immigrant families are CRAZY. Especially when you put Polocks and Deigos together. They have nothing in common except they're both Catholic as hell (and they're all crazy, of course).

I always thought I was my father's (Polock) daughter, but the older I get, the more I realize I am very, very much my mother's (Deigo) daughter, too. I value her (fiery, no-fuss) wisdom and live by her mantras just as much as I do his (a calmer, more logical brand). And this little pearl of wisdom resonates with me a whole lot -- you just have to accept your family for who they are -- especially when it comes to my father's side.

Of course, my mother would never put it so genteel. I believe her words, after my long telephone lament, were, "Oh -- STUPID POLOCKS! Well, Lisa, you can pick your nose, but you can't pick your family!"

My aunt and uncle came out from Detroit to visit my younger cousin, who lives down in LA. She won a big award for her work at Universal Music and the company flew them out to attend a reception -- a really big deal. Nicole is a good kid. Aunt and uncle decided to tack on a two-week vacation and -- SURPRISE! -- drive up to SF to visit me. All three of them.

I got two days warning. They rolled into town with no directions, no plan, no hotel reservation.

It's summer. In San Francisco. One of the biggest tourist destinations in America. Apparently, my not-well-traveled family didn't realize this.

I found out about the no-plan-no-hotel-no-directions situation when they were about an hour away, on the 580. Through a series of panicked phone calls, I managed to get them one of three remaining hotel rooms in town (literally). I managed to navigate them, though they got lost several times, to my house. I rode with them to the hotel. I checked them in. And then it really got bad.

My uncle wasn't HAPPY with the hotel. It didn't have AIR CONDITIONING (no buildings in SF have air conditioning; it never exceeds 70 degrees here, though something did seem to be wrong with the climate control). It didn't have SCREENS on the window (we don't have bugs in SF either; too much wind). It didn't seem SAFE. It had STAINS on the carpet.

It was a perfectly adequate, though less than glamorous, motor inn in the safest neighborhood in town with free parking (the other two remaining hotels would have cost him $300 or $400 a night, which he was SHOCKED to find out, and this one was $130). BUT WHAT DO YOU EXPECT WHEN YOU DRIVE INTO TOWN WITH NO RESERVATION IN THE MIDDLE OF HIGH TOURIST SEASON?

He demanded to switch rooms, and somehow, he got his way. But I didn't even get a thank you for my efforts.

When they were finally settled, we decided to go out for dinner, and lucky me was charged with the task of choosing a restaurant. Before I could even make a recommendation, I was barraged with --

"No Mexican." -- Uncle

"No sushi. I just tried sushi and I didn't like it." -- Cousin

"How about pizza?" -- Me

"I don't like pizza." -- Uncle

WHO DOESN'T LIKE PIZZA? Did I fail to notice in the past 30 years that my uncle is from OUTER SPACE?

"Do you just have like an Applebee's or a Friday's or something? -- Aunt

Oh my god. Who are these people? These are the people who give Midwesterners a bad name. These are the people that Sacha Baron Cohen was mocking with Borat. These people are unwilling to try anything new or experience the very things they're there to experience. WHY DID YOU EVEN COME TO SAN FRANCISCO?

"No, we don't have Applebee's or Friday's."

Tears were welling in my eyes as I looked at my boyfriend and confessed that I really couldn't think of anywhere to take them. Finally, we decided on Magnolia Brewery, which I knew at least had burgers and fish and chips. And we made it through dinner, even as my uncle tormented the waitress, insisting that he'd rather eat "endangered cod" than "unendangered cod" (their menu touts their total adherence to sustainable food).

But upon returning to the hotel, we discovered that although parking was free, it was NOT unlimited. Thus began a search for a parking space, with me driving, amidst the bitching and moaning of my uncle...

"Why don't they just build a damn parking structure?!"

BECAUSE IN CASE YOU HADN'T NOTICED, THERE ARE BUILDINGS EVERYWHERE ALREADY. This is a CITY, not a SUBURB.

Meters were insufficient, because that would require him to wake up and relocate by 9:00 AM (it was Friday night, and meters operate on Saturday).

"I'm sleeping in tomorrow!"

Finally, I found them a legal spot four blocks away. FOUR. BLOCKS. AWAY.

And my aunt had to ask if we could take a bus back. While we were in sight of the hotel sign.

I wish I could say that was the end of it, but there was a whole second day of antics that were as excruciating for Trent and I as that one was. During which my uncle left us with such gems as "why the hell don't they just build some damn parking in this state!" and "seen one tree, seen 'em all" while we were at Muir Woods (to the parking question, I should have asked, "and how do you suggest they do that, BY CUTTING DOWN THE TREES?").

At the end of it all, I found a charge for $725.04 on my credit card. A little parting gift from my family.

I had used my credit card to make the hotel reservation for them. They were unsatisfied and checked out of the hotel Saturday morning (of course), and moved to DOWNTOWN OAKLAND, which was the nearest place they could find a room. Their credit card, however, ended up being declined, and the hotel charged mine as the guarantee for the room (though they shouldn't have charged them for the full stay -- that was their bad). So now I'm looking at days -- if not weeks -- of fighting to get that taken care of with the whole cast of characters.

Looking back on this, it's hard not to say, "I hate my family." But I think I'm just going to stick with my mother's mantra of "You can pick your nose..." (in my mind, it IS preceded by STUPID POLOCKS, though).

You see, I think for many years, they've been thinking the same thing about me. Little bleeding heart liberal child who went off to school in Ann Arbor and lived with her boyfriend before marriage and voted for Clinton and ran off to San Francisco and was always into art and weird music.

They've never gotten me as much as I've never gotten them. But they loved me and put up with me (even though "putting up" with me was NOTHING like putting up with them).

We're different. Very, very different. They want to live their life insulated in the suburbs where they can drive and park everywhere and always eat fried food at Applebee's. Fine. I don't get it, but fine. I will graciously give them that. I've always been gracious to them and I will continue to be.

But they do owe me $725.04. Or they need to get it off my damn card.

And after this one, I'm going to respectfully suggest that we all just stay on our own sides of the country and pick our noses.

See if you can guess who I'm talking about here... Who are the Polocks? Deigos?