4:36 An argument breaks out over where the chairs should be placed around the table. The conflict is particularly heated over a certain corner. We have a volunteer for the crappy seat and violence is averted.
4:40 This may be worse than usual. We think the mashed potatoes have been flung into the sink, but perhaps we were mistaken. At least I hope so, because later we are served mashed potatoes. Ben still hasn’t arrived, and dinner is in twenty minutes. This probably won’t go over well after all the fighting that took place over seating. I’m told that this is a better arrangement than previous years, but I can’t help but notice that this is the first time there has been this much conflict over where chairs should go. Although there’s always some.
4:41 I don’t know why my mom keeps addressing us as ladies and gentlemen, because we’re not.
4:58 I’ve never had to grab my crotch so many times for so innocent a reason.
5:09 Ok, I totally just spit on the table to clean it because it was sticky, but I totally had permission from my sister, and she’s really sane. And it was the patio table not the dining room table.
5:23 There’s a mosquito in my wine. I announce a rescue, and am told I may be bitten. Someone else thinks there’s no hope. He’s wiggling his little wing when I fish him out. The rest of him is kind of plastered to my finger because he’s soaked in wine. At the other end of the table there is sudden discussion of drinking flies that end up in the milk. The mosquito is now wiggling two parts. He’s probably anxious to get away from these insect swilling madmen. I’m trying to dry him so he can fly away. People are sighing at me, because I’m holding up dinner and most of the family thinks I’m insane for wasting time on a mosquito. Also, many of them think he’s diseased, but that’s just an unfortunate prejudice. Now they are listing mosquito diseases. I tell them I’m ashamed. The three year old announces he is done, although most of the family are still attempting to say grace. We manage to free the mosquito from my finger and take him outside.
5:26 Someone can’t find their dinner roll, the one that is on their plate, and I am told that this should not end up in my blog.
7:01 Nana is sleeping in her chair in front of the oven.
7:54 I’m forced under the table by my mother, and not allowed out. My sister joins me in solidarity. Something about latches and table leaves. When people start shoving the table back together, it’s like we’re in the trash compactor scene from Star Wars. We scream and thrash like we’re being crushed, and are soon dragged out by our ankles.