Please come to dinner–and bring your own damn food.

This seems appropriate for today. Happy Thanksgiving.

My Dog Ate a Lightbulb

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My mother didn’t entertain very much. No cocktail parties; no invitations to dinner. That doesn’t mean that we dined alone: our relatives had a habit of just showing up around mealtime. I can’t remember anyone ever knocking on the door, though. They just walked in and called out “Hello?” (It is one of my pet peeves and the reason why I usually keep my doors locked at all times.)

My uncle and his family had their timing perfected. For years, my Aunt and Uncle and two cousins would walk in just as we sat down to Sunday dinner. The dialog would go like this:

Mom (to me): I don’t believe it. Does Elvira ever cook?

Aunt Elvira: Oh, gosh. Are you eating? I just said to Jack that we didn’t want to interrupt your meal. Go ahead and eat. We’ll wait in the living room. Don’t mind us.

Mom: Come on…

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