March 28th, 2005

b/g - in the library

FAMILY VISIT (Or: why i've been offline for 4 days)

Family means you don't really ever feel like they're gone. And when they're here, you don't really feel like you've ever left 'em. Maija and Ryan christened our new place with a true, no-holds-barred, open-the-closet-doors-and-peek-in, fill-the-fridge and blow-the diet visit. The only bad part is that they don't live here all the time. Although there's no way we'd survive with four people and one toilet. Especially ours.

We touristed and trooped, drank our drinks at five new bars and checked out the crazy-large Whole Foods twice. Trust me, it's really that big. We bought a new BBQ so we could Easter Sunday in true atheist style (ie: consume more meat than should be humanly possible and still end up with leftovers). I highly recommend trying buffalo if you get the chance.

We discovered that home-made mojito tastes better with a little less mint, but requires a good rum. We found out that the Easter bunny looks great being battered to the death in pinata form. We bubbled and giggled and shouted and farted our way around Austin, waiting for the right moment to spring the chorus of "deep in the heart of Texas" on the unsuspecting populous. We strang and re-strang backyard christmas lights, only to find that they were burned out. After a good laugh at that, we discovered that nothing is open in Texas on Easter Sunday, not even Target, so we cobbled together others that finally worked, and finished it all before we needed to light the grill. We discovered (once again) that Triumph, the Insult Comic, is pee-in your pants funny, and rediscovered Frighteners (a movie with a great mix of horror and startle, comedy and macabre, all wrapped up in a fabulous Michael J. Fox package).

They bought us housewarming gifts, the cutest monkeys, and made our two outside chairs into four. But beyond that, they made it feel like home - because they're our family and we wouldn't be us without some part of them in our hearts. They're out there now, probably flying home, and the glorious chaos of fitting four people into a two bedroom duplex will recede, leaving behind leftovers and funky smells, strange bath soaps and empty chairs. I can't wait for their particular individual and much beloved brands of goofy-ness and trouble to fly our way again.