In Which I Feed the Rolls to the Dog

Our parents arrived yesterday. The Butcher was stuck in a broken down truck in Gallatin, so just the three of us went to dinner over at whatever the new restaurant at Fontanel is. I guess it’s not that new anymore. We just hadn’t been over to it. But it was fine. They serve you these big buttery garlic rolls, which they then send you home with. I fed those to the dog.

But I also had this delicious carb, cheese, spinach, and broccoli thing. Like a calzone but smaller?

Did I tell you that the Butcher and I are trying to eat more vegetables? Ha ha ha. I was teasing him that we are going to be the most successful “more vegetables” people in the history of people who have improved their diets because we have been, in the past, terrible about cooking vegetables at home. This week he made this fettuccine alfredo thing with carrots and peas and broccoli and… I forget what else, but I was all “four vegetables in one meal! That’s all the vegetables we get in a week usually!” (Which is not strictly true, but was funny in context.)

It’s really good to see my parents. My dad was all “I was so shocked by your brother’s news that I forgot to ask when the baby is due.” And I laughed and said that I knew what he meant because when my brother told me, all I could do was listen and will myself to not scream “What the fuck?” in a long, drawn out manner for like five minutes. But then I did later ask.

Families are funny. You think you’re all on the same page, but really, a family is a collection of people all on slightly different pages, in slightly different editions of the same book (or different books by the same author) trying to read in unison.

3 thoughts on “In Which I Feed the Rolls to the Dog

  1. Families are funny. You think you’re all on the same page, but really, a family is a collection of people all on slightly different pages, in slightly different editions of the same book (or different books by the same author) trying to read in unison. Geez, that is SO true.

    I was thinking similarly yesterday after spending some time with my double 3rd (or is it 4th?) cousin. She’s always been the responsible one between her and her sibling. I’m the responsible one between me and my brother. Something came up about me buying a condo one day and she asked why I didn’t just ask my Mom/Grandmother for money and when I said I’d rather save the payment myself she blurted out that since they’d done so much for my brother that I should expect the same. I was shocked. Then it dawned on me later
    that of all the grandchildren of the brothers we’re descended from, that I’m the lone one that doesn’t expect some
    windfall when my Grandmother & Mom pass away.

    Of all the people I share a generation in my family, I’m the one who moved away and did things on my own. I’ve never had a job post-college where someone in my family pulled strings to get me an interview or get me hired. No one had to vouch for me. I can honestly say it has been all me and the work I put in. It’s an asshole thing to say, but I’m glad I got away from that mentality.

Comments are closed.