I really have the most bomb family in the universe.
I am not exaggerating.
I spent the whole day at work at the restaurant, starting at 11 in the morning. I actually had a pretty nice time, since I've known all along that there was NO WAY everything would go smoothly today. The only thing I could do right is keep my cool, smile at every person that came in, and say, "Happy Thanksgiving" at every possible juncture. That's the part of this job I'm really good at.
Let me just mention quickly that I'm fascinated by smoking culture in the service industry. Apparently I'm one of 3 people on staff who doesn't smoke, and it makes me somewhat of an outsider--that I don't join any collective smoke breaks. I actually put a lighter in my jacket pocket so that I can at least say yes when somebody asks me for a light. Now, outsider status is my Achilles' heel; but I can't really justify starting this particular habit just to fit in.
But I finally got home. And there was Granpa doing a puzzle in the living room, Papa doing some kind of project on the dining room table, Mutti cooking. Thomas, Maria and Asha hollered "hello" from somewhere in the house as I let myself in the back door.
I had bought some pumpkin ale at the beginning of the season, expecting to have friends over for Thanksgiving dinner who would help me drink it; but that plan fell through so now I'm saddled with a few more beers than I can take care of on my own, and nobody else in my family drinks anything besides Country Time lemonade.
My mom is the best cook. Plus, she remembers all the Thanksgiving dishes I say I love in the weeks leading up to the actual holiday. Last year at the Coulsons' in Kansas City we had what I remembered as apricot stuffing but which Mary says was apricot sweet potatoes; but I said I wanted apricot stuffing and so, failing to find a recipe for it online or in any of her cookbooks, she made it up, and it was delicious.
On top of my stuffed stomach and übersatisfied tastebuds, I have hardly stopped laughing since I came home from work (speaking of laughing). We've got age-old in-jokes, funny stories about our collective childhood, awkward moments, hilarious accidents, and weird accents. We ended the evening getting obliterated by Granpa at Apples to Apples--the Buckners really rock at that game. When Gramma's here nobody else stands a chance. And then we ended the evening again with one of the most perfect pecan pies I have EVER tasted, and my brother narrating a 1980's French nature documentary about suburban Delaware.
Just a day in the life.
I am the MOST happy to have my brother home from college, to have us all in the house again. I can't believe how lucky I am to be born into this family. I know this is cliche, the thing all people say they're thankful for every time they have to say something they're thankful for, but I firmly believe that cliches became cliches because they're really true a lot of times in real life. And even I can't believe how much I really, really mean it.
I am not exaggerating.
I spent the whole day at work at the restaurant, starting at 11 in the morning. I actually had a pretty nice time, since I've known all along that there was NO WAY everything would go smoothly today. The only thing I could do right is keep my cool, smile at every person that came in, and say, "Happy Thanksgiving" at every possible juncture. That's the part of this job I'm really good at.
Let me just mention quickly that I'm fascinated by smoking culture in the service industry. Apparently I'm one of 3 people on staff who doesn't smoke, and it makes me somewhat of an outsider--that I don't join any collective smoke breaks. I actually put a lighter in my jacket pocket so that I can at least say yes when somebody asks me for a light. Now, outsider status is my Achilles' heel; but I can't really justify starting this particular habit just to fit in.
But I finally got home. And there was Granpa doing a puzzle in the living room, Papa doing some kind of project on the dining room table, Mutti cooking. Thomas, Maria and Asha hollered "hello" from somewhere in the house as I let myself in the back door.
I had bought some pumpkin ale at the beginning of the season, expecting to have friends over for Thanksgiving dinner who would help me drink it; but that plan fell through so now I'm saddled with a few more beers than I can take care of on my own, and nobody else in my family drinks anything besides Country Time lemonade.
My mom is the best cook. Plus, she remembers all the Thanksgiving dishes I say I love in the weeks leading up to the actual holiday. Last year at the Coulsons' in Kansas City we had what I remembered as apricot stuffing but which Mary says was apricot sweet potatoes; but I said I wanted apricot stuffing and so, failing to find a recipe for it online or in any of her cookbooks, she made it up, and it was delicious.
On top of my stuffed stomach and übersatisfied tastebuds, I have hardly stopped laughing since I came home from work (speaking of laughing). We've got age-old in-jokes, funny stories about our collective childhood, awkward moments, hilarious accidents, and weird accents. We ended the evening getting obliterated by Granpa at Apples to Apples--the Buckners really rock at that game. When Gramma's here nobody else stands a chance. And then we ended the evening again with one of the most perfect pecan pies I have EVER tasted, and my brother narrating a 1980's French nature documentary about suburban Delaware.
Just a day in the life.
I am the MOST happy to have my brother home from college, to have us all in the house again. I can't believe how lucky I am to be born into this family. I know this is cliche, the thing all people say they're thankful for every time they have to say something they're thankful for, but I firmly believe that cliches became cliches because they're really true a lot of times in real life. And even I can't believe how much I really, really mean it.
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