October 06, 2004
We Eat Like Hobbits
Okay, next week, I'll be on vacation with my cousins and my Dad. Well, not simultaneously. Dad likes quiet. In fact, Dad and I can go an entire long weekend without speaking. We're Norwegian.
But when the four cousins come up with their four dogs to join Husband, our dog, and me, it's chaos. They're Danish, Polish and Irish, for God's sake!
Anyhoo, it has occurred to me that my entire family, regardless of heritage, has weird priorities. For instance, here's a conversation between Dad and I:
"Dad, instead of going home on Tuesday, stay an extra couple days and hang out with us!"
"With all those people and dogs?!"
"Well, yea, but it'll be fun! All we do is eat, drink and play cards. You'll love it."
"Does R still have his machine gun?"
"Um, I'll check..."
"If he brings it, I'll stay."
Then R's wife PJ calls. Well, okay, they're not technically married, but they've been together for long than most marriages last, so let's not split hairs. She buys his underwear; they're married. Here's my phone call with PJ:
"PJ!"
"Hi! Just calling to see what you're bringing to the cabin!"
"Um, lots of sweaters, a space heater, Barbies, Dad's banjo…"
"No, no, no. What food? I'm gonna bake."
"Ohhhhh! I'm bringing beer bread, some raspberry chipotle marinade for steaks, strawberry-cheeseball makings."
"I'm gonna pick up one of those huge slabs of bacon from Sam's Club. I'm also gonna bring my griddle to make pancakes for breakfast. Oh, and we have to go have biscuits and gravy at that one place. And we have to get some coffee cake from the bakery. And I think I'm gonna make muffins. Is your Dad gonna make Swedish pancakes?"
"PJ, you and R are only gonna be there for two breakfasts."
"Well, what about elevensies?"
"Good point."
And it dawned on me - while most people plan what to do on their vacations, we plan what to eat. Like I know we'll be going to the Marina for surf 'n' turf. And we have to have fried cheese curds at least once a day (it's a Wisconsin state law). And then there's the turtle sundaes at the Albatross. And we'll be having s'mores every two hours. And we can't play gin rummy without a veritable cornicopia of chips 'n' dip.
And before the breakfast dishes are even dry, we're going, "What should we do for lunch? Wanna get brats at the middle bar, or should we grill?"
Seriously, we're pathological.
"Oh, my god. I can't believe I ate that whole steak. I'm in pain, and that's with the button on my jeans undone. Hey, where's the waitress? Are we ordering dessert?"
If we could dine reclining on couches like Romans, I don't think we'd ever move.
"Oh, the dogs can just pee on the porch. You gonna finish those onion rings?"
I'm bringing lots of pants with elastic waistbands.