I'm not sure what age did it become cool to hang out with family vs. party on the weekend with a whole bunch of strangers, but I'm pretty sure this transition for me happened when I realized that family were the first humans on this earth to tolerate you even if your face was sporting caterpillar eyebrows like no one's business and weird colored turtlenecks with polka dots on them.
This weekend was no exception as my husband and I spent a Saturday lunchtime celebrating my favorite uncle's birthday at a local Chinese bistro. My tummy still smiles something fierce when the piping hot bowl of won ton soup is set down on the lazy-Susan by the waitress. I always have to remind my impatient tummy not to worry--- that yes, by the time that lazy-Susan spins around my way, there will be enough won tons left in that huge bowl for me.
What I enjoyed the most about this Saturday with family is how loud it got. Not from the sounds of the restaurant, but from the sound of the roaring laughter that erupted every few minutes as a reaction to a joke told my uncle, a story told by my cousin, a smirky comment from my husband. These sounds reminded to live. That I am alive. That those I love are alive and playing Wheel of Fortune with the lazy-Susan, too, on a random Saturday afternoon at a local Chinese bistro.
And to remind me to enjoy every small part of it.