In Sum...
It was a pretty successful family reunion week I have decided.
My mom managed to corner all 3 of her kids for a photo, and she even got one where no one had bunny-ears or a finger up their nose.
That's my cousin Elizabeth, then Me, Than, and Sarah who was still not speaking to me (see below).
My brother Than and my uncle Tony got out on the tennis court every day.
Me: How was the Tennis?
Than: We didn't play tennis.
Me: Huh? How come you are all sweaty and you are holding a racquet and how come I swear I just saw you guys on the tennis court?
Than: We didn't play tennis. We played Tony Wins.
The funny/embarrassing thing is we had pretty much this exact conversation every day... but back to the weekly tally.
I won two games of Scrabble and even got rid of all my letters one time ("requiem"! on a triple word score! how sick was that!).
I got out on my bike every day. I worked on my tan. I played with enough ponies, puppies, and kitties to last me until the next east-coast visit I hope.
We ate lots of watermelon.
Gin and tonics are delicious in the summertime.
I witnessed lengthy conversations about tractors, the county agricultural preserve (which successfully fended off a Target that was supposed to get built at Wayson's Corner - go Ag Preserve!), whose fence got knocked down by who else's tree, the live wire that PG&E left out at Bowie race track, the beating that the first crop of strawberries sustained in Monday's rainstorm, the diversity of color, use of natural light, and circuitous procession through Frank Lloyd Wright's Unity Church, and the vast difference in 1970 vs. 1990-and-beyond childbirth practices with regards to presence of father, presence of doctor, inclusion of father in pre-birth instruction, verticality or horizontality of c-section cuts... Basically a whole lot of stuff about which I (shock and surprise!!) had little or nothing to contribute. So I sat all ears, refreshingly silent, and sometimes laughing.
For example of tractors and laughing: my mom was talking about Charles Tasker, the somewhat sort of reliable guy from down the road who comes to help her do stuff sometimes. Now, earlier I had heard her complain about the fact that he a. let out a possum who has been stealing the cat food all spring and she finally trapped it and was going to take down the road to dump off elsewhere but Charles didn't want the elsewhere to be his driveway so he turned over the trash can right there and the thing scampered back to the cat food and b. he's petrified of snakes. But give her a glass of wine or two and suddenly...
"Charles Tasker is a genius! He is an absolute ballerina with the tractor!"
OMG. My brother and I got some teasing mileage out of that one for sure.
Oh, and I succeeded in maintaining my bratty first-born child status by making my sister cry, driving my mom to call me a bitch, generally being busy or napping when I sensed such projects as furniture rearrangement, leaf raking, fence repair... And I broke a glass bowl too.
Sorry Ma.
But I did try to be good, I really did - I did dishes, asked my mom what was in the fridge before opening it and standing there for 5 seconds or more, helped grocery shop, graciously gave up my room for my cousin and even made the bed, filled the car with gas, and be'd nice when possible. So apparently I am invited back home for the holidays this year. Phew.
My mom managed to corner all 3 of her kids for a photo, and she even got one where no one had bunny-ears or a finger up their nose.
That's my cousin Elizabeth, then Me, Than, and Sarah who was still not speaking to me (see below).My brother Than and my uncle Tony got out on the tennis court every day.
Me: How was the Tennis?
Than: We didn't play tennis.
Me: Huh? How come you are all sweaty and you are holding a racquet and how come I swear I just saw you guys on the tennis court?
Than: We didn't play tennis. We played Tony Wins.
The funny/embarrassing thing is we had pretty much this exact conversation every day... but back to the weekly tally.
I won two games of Scrabble and even got rid of all my letters one time ("requiem"! on a triple word score! how sick was that!).
I got out on my bike every day. I worked on my tan. I played with enough ponies, puppies, and kitties to last me until the next east-coast visit I hope.
We ate lots of watermelon.
Gin and tonics are delicious in the summertime.
I witnessed lengthy conversations about tractors, the county agricultural preserve (which successfully fended off a Target that was supposed to get built at Wayson's Corner - go Ag Preserve!), whose fence got knocked down by who else's tree, the live wire that PG&E left out at Bowie race track, the beating that the first crop of strawberries sustained in Monday's rainstorm, the diversity of color, use of natural light, and circuitous procession through Frank Lloyd Wright's Unity Church, and the vast difference in 1970 vs. 1990-and-beyond childbirth practices with regards to presence of father, presence of doctor, inclusion of father in pre-birth instruction, verticality or horizontality of c-section cuts... Basically a whole lot of stuff about which I (shock and surprise!!) had little or nothing to contribute. So I sat all ears, refreshingly silent, and sometimes laughing.
For example of tractors and laughing: my mom was talking about Charles Tasker, the somewhat sort of reliable guy from down the road who comes to help her do stuff sometimes. Now, earlier I had heard her complain about the fact that he a. let out a possum who has been stealing the cat food all spring and she finally trapped it and was going to take down the road to dump off elsewhere but Charles didn't want the elsewhere to be his driveway so he turned over the trash can right there and the thing scampered back to the cat food and b. he's petrified of snakes. But give her a glass of wine or two and suddenly...
"Charles Tasker is a genius! He is an absolute ballerina with the tractor!"
OMG. My brother and I got some teasing mileage out of that one for sure.
Oh, and I succeeded in maintaining my bratty first-born child status by making my sister cry, driving my mom to call me a bitch, generally being busy or napping when I sensed such projects as furniture rearrangement, leaf raking, fence repair... And I broke a glass bowl too.
Sorry Ma.
But I did try to be good, I really did - I did dishes, asked my mom what was in the fridge before opening it and standing there for 5 seconds or more, helped grocery shop, graciously gave up my room for my cousin and even made the bed, filled the car with gas, and be'd nice when possible. So apparently I am invited back home for the holidays this year. Phew.
Labels: enjoy the blog, family, my favourite, quotables
posted by Courtenay at 6/08/2007
3 Comments:
John and I both had a laugh over your post. You captured the dynamics hillariously true to life!
Love!
I challenge you to a game of Scrabble.
Although I'm worried that you might try to use the word "be'd". Luckily it wouldn't be worth many points.
no one can beat me in scrabbel! ;) and with the family scribblings cour10... you have to read some david james duncan, one of the best american authors. he and you, classic.
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