Dear Lord, we paid for this food, so thanks for nothing.
I will never get over the weirdness of eating dinner with my entire nuclear family seated at the same table.
No incidents, though, which is nice. I occasionally get the feeling that my dad would prefer if my mom just disappeared--usually when she insists on talking his head off, but they're completely civil.
I don't recall my parents ever being so civil to each other. Maybe it didn't make the heart grow fonder, but divorce works wonders. I think my sister has been experiencing the same shock of being seated at the oh-so-1950s-Cleaveresque dinner table, with our parents. Both of them. Conversing like...a couple...o_O Or maybe more accurately, like platonic friends. None of the romantic kissy stuff, of course. I think I would have a heart attack. No, I think my frigging head would explode.
Well, point is, I made a lovely solstice dinner with my mum...er...sort of helping...
"Mom, have you taken one look at the recipe??"
"...No..."
I learned from the Polish ultraconservative, my paternal grandmother, and the Creole renegade of funk, my mum. Their styles tend to clash, with the biggest exception being that one elusive skill they share that I try so hard to develop, the ability to cook with no clocks or timers.
And furthermore, those knives my dad has don't lie when they say they're the sharpest ones I'll ever use. I'd been meaning to trim those nails anyway. Like trim them off. And the tip of my finger.
The funniest part, though, was sitting down to eat, and everyone turning to me, as if they were expecting to hear a blessing or something.
Me: *blank pause* "Dig in."
Anyway. I didn't get much sleep last night, probably because it's been drilled into my head that if I turn my back on a lit candle, it'll come to life and dance around the room, setting things on fire, rather than just doing what it's been doing, staying in one place and flickering a bit. I expected to find dark red wax all over my dad's precious ivory carpet. No. It hadn't even dripped onto the candle plate. Ah, paranoia.
So Merry Solstice everyone. I'll try to find the link to those atheist carols--I believe they're on infidels.org.
No incidents, though, which is nice. I occasionally get the feeling that my dad would prefer if my mom just disappeared--usually when she insists on talking his head off, but they're completely civil.
I don't recall my parents ever being so civil to each other. Maybe it didn't make the heart grow fonder, but divorce works wonders. I think my sister has been experiencing the same shock of being seated at the oh-so-1950s-Cleaveresque dinner table, with our parents. Both of them. Conversing like...a couple...o_O Or maybe more accurately, like platonic friends. None of the romantic kissy stuff, of course. I think I would have a heart attack. No, I think my frigging head would explode.
Well, point is, I made a lovely solstice dinner with my mum...er...sort of helping...
"Mom, have you taken one look at the recipe??"
"...No..."
I learned from the Polish ultraconservative, my paternal grandmother, and the Creole renegade of funk, my mum. Their styles tend to clash, with the biggest exception being that one elusive skill they share that I try so hard to develop, the ability to cook with no clocks or timers.
And furthermore, those knives my dad has don't lie when they say they're the sharpest ones I'll ever use. I'd been meaning to trim those nails anyway. Like trim them off. And the tip of my finger.
The funniest part, though, was sitting down to eat, and everyone turning to me, as if they were expecting to hear a blessing or something.
Me: *blank pause* "Dig in."
Anyway. I didn't get much sleep last night, probably because it's been drilled into my head that if I turn my back on a lit candle, it'll come to life and dance around the room, setting things on fire, rather than just doing what it's been doing, staying in one place and flickering a bit. I expected to find dark red wax all over my dad's precious ivory carpet. No. It hadn't even dripped onto the candle plate. Ah, paranoia.
So Merry Solstice everyone. I'll try to find the link to those atheist carols--I believe they're on infidels.org.