Dinner Guest #21 - Cousin Lisa

“My cousin Lisa, you know, Marcella’s daughter, will be in town this weekend.  What do you think about having her over for Sunday dinner?”

That’s all Ryan said.

He asked nicely.

He didn’t demand.

And yet inside, I bristled.

“Relatives.  YUCK.”  I thought.

I’ve been married long enough to know that a smart wife keeps these thoughts to herself.

“I’ll think about it,” I said.

I have an inexplicable aversion to relatives.  I’m not sure how I acquired this shameful, snobby dislike.  I don’t mind gatherings with parents and siblings, but when the blood association thins out to cousins, great-uncles, and half-brothers of second cousins twice removed, I quickly lose interest.

It just seems like some relatives are no more than quirky strangers you would normally never allow into your home.  These aren’t people you had a choice in being your friend.  It's a forced, uncomfortably close association.

Then, I married a man who LOVES relatives.  Ryan will drive long distances to family reunions held in remote small towns.  He takes time off work to attend the funeral for great-aunt so and so.  A few years ago, Ryan answered a 3:00 am phone call from a relative stuck in jail and bailed him out.  He doesn’t focus on the quirks, poor social skills, and boring conversations that make me cut the visits short.  It’s been an adjustment, but I’ve learned to admire this relative-lovin’ quality in my husband and keep my prejudices quiet.

Cousin Lisa came to dinner this Sunday.

Compared to previous Sunday dinners with several adults and children, one dinner guest has now become a piece of cake.  I served grilled chicken kebabs, sweet potato casserole, Brazilian pao de queijo rolls, fresh berries, and veggies and dip.  On the down side, I left an additional side dish in the fridge for the entire meal.  Tomorrow night, our family will enjoy the large bowl of roasted beets meant for today.

During dinner, Ryan and Lisa exchanged memories from their childhoods in Las Vegas.  They talked about a classic, light blue Volkswagon Bug that belonged to Lisa’s father.  Ryan recalled a table-top game called “Shoot the Moon” he played when he visited her home as a child.  After the meal, my in-laws Dono and Margaret stopped by to see Lisa.  They love relatives too--even more than Ryan.  Dono and Lisa's father Dwayne, long deceased, are brothers.

In between the I- remember- when’s, Rock (3) interjected totally irrelevant, but cute comments like,

“Do you know what we have?  A new hair brush!”

This Sunday dinner, my assumptions on relatives were proved wrong.  Lisa wasn ‘t weird.  She was very normal, kind and polite.  She asked my children questions, brought chocolate chip cookies, and rinsed all the dishes.  If she lived closer, I would love to have her back to meet her two daughters.

Hopefully our children will inherit Ryan’s gentler view of relatives.  After my encounter with Lisa, I’m considering taking on a softer mantra.  Something like:

Relatives are like fudge – mostly sweet with a few nuts.

Dinner Guest #20 - Dono and Margaret

For some women, it’s a box of chocolates.  For others, it’s perfume, spa treatments, and designer handbags.

This year for Mother’s Day, I had one simple, inexpensive request:

A two-hour nap.

But is it possible to nap when you have dinner guests arriving at 5:3o pm? 

The answer is:  Yes, if your guests are my in-laws, Dono and Margaret.  I am lucky.  My in-laws are some of the kindest people on this planet.  They are happy to get together, but not demanding of our time.   They are willing to help with all kinds of inconvenient projects like moving furniture, preparing tax returns, and rides to the airport.  Best of all, they love their grandchildren.  On more than one occasion, Dono has said to me in an overly serious voice,

“Are you aware that your children are really cute?”

Dinner was unusually simple.  By some miracle, the enchiladas I cooked up last Sunday accidentally made a double batch.  So I froze the extra casserole dish, thawed it out Sunday morning, and baked the enchiladas for an hour before the guests arrived.  I then prepared a simple side dish of roasted sweet potatoes, threw together a pan of brownies, and my cooking was done.  My husband brought home a few bags of pre-made Pao de Queijo rolls from the Brazilian market and my mother-in-law brought a platter of fruit and dip.    

After the meal, Margaret and I opened Mother’s Day gifts.  My children had prepared some fun homemade cards with the help of their school teachers.  I learned that Kate (7) thinks I am 39 years old, thinks I weigh 133 pounds, and thinks my favorite clothing is underwear.   I smiled and laughed at how she imagines me younger, but fatter, and not very stylish.

Kate then announced she would play a piano piece for us called “Watching the Clock,” a staccato tune she memorized this week.  Afterward, Grandpa Dono joined the kids at the piano and played his old, stand-by “Swans on the Lake.”  Jack pounded out his version of “Sailor Jack,” and Rock hammered on the base notes while holding down the sustaining pedal.

Dono and Margaret left around bedtime.  The children stood on the driveway, watching and waving at their grandparents as they drove away.

In the past, I have categorically refused to cook on Mother’s Day.  I always considered it my official day-off from mothering.  However, I must admit I didn’t mind preparing a meal this year.  After all, my husband ensured I got what I wanted.  Sunday afternoon, he disappeared with the children for several hours. 

I found myself in an abnormally quiet house. 

A cool, dark room. 

Perfect for a nap.

Dinner Guest #19 - Dr. V. and Rove

If somebody asks, “What does your husband do?”

My standard response is,

“He’s an Optometrist.”

But really, a more accurate job title is: 

SMALL BUSINESS OWNER (SBO)

When Ryan graduated from Optometry school, I thought I was married to an eye doctor.  However, when he leased a space in a small retail center, hired an employee, and hung up a sign outside that read, “FAMILY FOCUSED EYECARE,” we found ourselves suddenly immersed in a completely new kind of professional craziness:

16 hour days.

Six-day work weeks.

Firing employees.

Angry customers.

Paying everybody but yourself.

Nobody understands the challenges of opening and managing an Optometry business better than our dinner guest this Sunday:  Dr. V.   

She’s an SBO too.

Dr. V. and her boyfriend Rove are of Filipino heritage, so I thought I would cook Filipino food.  How hard could it be? I’m an experienced cook.  I can follow a recipe.   I searched my usual websites:  Allrecipes.com, Foodtv.com, and Cooks.com, but nothing seemed very authentic.  I then googled a Filipino website and spent an hour reading through recipes.   I tried to be open minded, but dishes named Sinigang na Baboy, Crispy Pata, Kare-Kare, and Rellenong Bangus just didn’t sound good.  Plus, their ingredients were totally foreign.  I didn’t want a giant bottle of “calamansi juice” in my fridge for the next year when I only needed two tablespoons for an obscure recipe I would probably never make again.

I quickly tossed out my Filipino cuisine aspirations and went with something much more American:  Mexican food.  Every Wal-Mart in Las Vegas is stocked with peppers, cilantro, tortillas of all sizes, and any other ingredient used in Mexican food.  I made Pepper Jack Chicken Enchiladas with Tomatillo sauce, Mexican rice, corn pudding, and fresh berries.  As an appetizer, I served tortilla chips with three kinds of dip from Trader Joes.  Dr. V. brought two pies from Marie Calendars:  banana cream and fresh strawberry.  Once the kids caught a glimpse of the boxed pies decorated with fancy whipped cream, they had difficulty concentrating on much else. 

We played our traditional question game during dinner and learned that Dr. V. was born in Chicago, her favorite ice cream is chocolate, and favorite Disney princess is Jasmine.  Rove was born in California, his favorite candy is Snickers, and favorite super hero is The Hulk.

At pie time, Jack threw a nuclear tantrum of such magnitude that Ryan carried him to his room to calm down.  Twenty minutes later, I went upstairs to release Jack from bedroom jail and found him asleep.  Out Cold.  I carried sleeping Jack to the toilet for potty business, brushed sleeping Jack’s teeth, peeled off his socks and shorts, and tucked him in bed.

After dinner, the adults sat around the table talking while Kate (7) and Rock (3) ran off to play.  Around 7:00 pm, Kate handed me an invitation to an American-themed show she was performing at 7:20 pm.  Twenty minutes later, as promised, we sat in chairs in our living room as Kate and Rock delivered short speeches, danced, and encouraged us to sing along.  I could only imagine what Dr. V. and Rove were thinking as we all stood with hands on hearts singing, “Oh Say Can You See….” while Rock pointed to an imaginary American flag on the wall.  I got a little uncomfortable when we had to sing TWO verses of “Take Me Out to the Ball Game.”  Overall, it was a cute show and I got enough video footage of Kate and Rock to sufficiently embarrass them when they are teenagers.

Ryan has often remarked that Dr. V. is like a sister to him.  He can call her and get advice on diseases of the eye, commiserate over Optometry business stresses, and joke around with someone who understands his quirky sense of humor.  Which means, lucky for us, we will be friends with Dr. V. for a long time.