table

There is a particular tradition in our family. Right now, as I type this (which I suppose means I’m live-blogging), we are sitting around the dining room table right after my mother and I have walked in the door and we are eating pumpkin pie, drinking hot chocolate, just chatting. Okay, it’s nothing particularly special, but it just seems to happen. When you walk in, you get something to eat and you take a seat, and we catch up a little.

We’ve covered the “champagne taste, beer budget” stories that seem to crop up with my mother so often, and we’ve talked about Honeycrisp apples, and now we are talking about failing eyesight. Somehow, since my grandmother’s back surgery about six years ago, the conversation seems to wander to medical topics.

Jo, my grandfather’s new wife, is sitting with us. She’s been under the weather lately. She’s got a staph infection in her leg, and she has to get daily IVs of…antibiotics, I think. She’s a wonderful woman. Lively, conversational, bright and smiley. She’s not my grandmother, to be sure, but she sure is a warm heart in this house. Not that it’s cold, but it is different.

A rough start to this weekend. I had to fight with my mother. It never fails, right before a holiday. We have at least one spat. I guess I should expect it. Now, we are fine. We’ll see how the next couple days go. *sigh* Oh, there is no place like home for the holidays. I’ll be keeping people updated. For now, I need some hot chocolate.

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