back to civilization

E is back to portland. I am back to portland. hooray!

California is a strange place, or at least my Grandmother's house is. That is all of California I saw this weekend. The only time I was not in her house was when I was coming from & going to the airport.

She had her 80th birthday parties Saturday. The party for her friends in the afternoon; the family party at night. My job was to encourage people to write their names on fabric flowers & stick them to a piece of fabric. My mom will transform it all into a quilt.

My other job was to be introduced to my grandma's friends. The script:
Grandma: this is Rachel, P's girl.
Grandma's friend: Hi, Rachel. Are you the one who plays basketball?
Me: No, that's M, over there, the tall cousin.
[shared forced chuckle at my unfunny joke.]

(I am the shortest of my cousins. It's bizarre to be in an environment in which 5'10" is short. It freaks me out.)


The family fiesta was much more interesting. I like hearing about my mom's childhood. I was at a table with my mom, her sister, & their cousin, J. They were talking about the family meals in my grandparents' home. Any misbehavior resulted in the offending party finishing the meal in the laudry room, with their plate perched on the washing machine. Bad table manners were punished with a spoon to the side of the head or a fork nearly stabbed into the hand. It impresses me that my mom raised in that environment, gave the brother & I such functional childhoods.

Growing up, when the grandparents would visit, they would sometimes threaten the brother and me (mostly the brother) with finishing the meal in the laundry room when we spilled milk, fell off our chairs, refused to eat something, etc. etc.

I always thought it was an idle threat. . .

and my grandma told my mom that I am "such a good conservative girl" bizarre.