Weekend Update

I have returned from the land of conservatives and cul-de-sacs well rested, over fed and with a renewed confirmation that my mom thinks I’m a great kid.  I swear I’ve been to Atlanta ten times, but still have yet to really leave my Aunt Annie and Uncle Steve’s house in the suburbs, which suits me just fine.  A weekend of hanging out was just what I needed.


My 18 year old brother Jack— overwhelmed by the full fridge— did a full out raid upon his arrival to the ATL.  Coming across what he perceived to be meatloaf, he heated it up, doused it with ketchup and ate every last bite.  Jack later learned it was in fact duck liver pate.  “I wondered why it tasted so funny,” he said.  Sorry about our appetizers Friday evening.  Note that despite its funny taste, he continued to eat it.  And Tim was jealous Jack snagged the good leftovers.


My brothers and I are very soon to be 24, 22 and 19.  My cousins Max, Sam and Josephine, who we spent our summers with at the cabin growing up, are 26, 24 and 22.  Yet, we still get sassed at like we are little kids.  Do the dishes, pick up your stuff, set the table.  I think in this instance, acceptance is the first step.  Because we may be “adults” but they still buy better wine than we do and are still better cooks. 


A couple years ago we were at the funeral home* for Christmas and my mom instructed me to go pick up my brothers from the ski hill.  It was December, it was Minnesota, thus it was fucking cold.  I said no.  She said yes, you will.  I said no, I will not.

She put her hand on her hip, pointed at me and said, “Rachel Shea!  One, two…”  I was up out of my seat and out the door so fast neither of us could believe it.  I got half way to the car before I stopped and realized what had happened.  My mother was keeled over laughing.  Turns out my mother’s still the boss of me. 


Overall, Easter was quite lovely.  I wore my bunny dress and we had 31 people over for brunch, which in comparison to holidays with my mother’s whole family, is quite small.  My aunt and uncle’s friends are lovely people, without a doubt, but steadfastly conservative.  I always feel the need to toss in a “Palin sucks!” or two during dinner.

I didn’t know it was possible to consume as much as ham I did in the course of the afternoon.  Or still be standing after that much champagne.  Or for a grown man to stick that many jell-o eggs in his mouth at once (4).  All good things to now know.


I went straight to the office after a 7am flight.  Been up since 4 to make the trek to the Marta train and surprisingly don’t look as disheveled as I feel.  My father has officially arrived and found an apartment (luckily in a different quadrant from my own) with a patio that “will be perfect for the turtles”.  Let the family bonding begin.  Also, I keep dreaming about Twitter.  Happy Monday.

*My grandfather lives about the funeral home he owns in Minnesota.  But that is a story for another day.


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