Ahh, my dearest ghost-readers,
It's always good to be back home: A warm place to snuggle up, the rich aroma of freshly baked cookies in the air, a hot meal simmering on the stove. False. My first moments after arriving back home are filled with a tackle from an over-excited [birthday girl] sister, an excessively sore, hobbling-up-the-stairs [swimmer] brother and frantic greetings from my father cooking linguini [my favorite meal, love my papa]. But it's moments like this that make me glad that nothing has changed. My now thirteen year old sister still farts constantly. My seventeen, wanna-be-surfer brother still wears obnoxious headphones. Our German Shorthaired Pointer smells worse than ever. And I love them all the more for it.
Our family revolves around the sharing of eccentricities. There really isn't a normal one in the lot, and that includes my extended family. My family gatherings are like nuclear hazards [haha, nuclear, like nuclear family, haha.. ha.... ha...]. During the holidays, the overwhelming combination of our extensive, individual oddities combusts into an explosion of alcohol-indused cheer, trashy, white elephant gifts, and false hill-billy teeth. But that's a story for another day.
Thanksgiving is right around the corner and it's at our house this year, which means a large-scale nuclear-family-explosion is in my future, in fact it will be in my living room. But don't get me wrong, I love family gatherings. I am a proud and strange member of my family with an equally explosive personality, but that doesn't mean that I shouldn't take the necessary precautions. Unfortunately, my hazmat suit is at the dry-cleaners from this past Easter, but do not fret. I will be equipped with a military-grade gas mask and a taser for when situations get out of hand.
I wish all my best to you and your family, ghost-readers, on this Thanksgiving. Here's to a freshly-cleaned hazmat suits, enough green beans for twenty-two guests, and the family who loves you at your strangest.
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