Stuffed

I'm never having sex again.

This past weekend was the annual reunion for the descendants of my great grandfather. The highlight was getting to see my sister and her family. Her husband and her three sons are all pretty cool. At least when they're not destroying things.

All of my cousins (I have oodles) who are my age or a few years older already have grandchildren. On my father's side, they all get married at eighteen because they can't wait to have sex. (On my mother's side, they all get married at eighteen because they couldn't wait to have sex.) Birth control doesn't seem to be a priority. I'm not sure whether they all have three kids because at that point birth control becomes a priority or because they just stop having sex. I really don't want to know.

The kids and I stayed in a motel on Thursday night because I changed my pants just before we left home and forgot to transfer my second set of keys (the ones that include the key to my parents' house in Pennsylvania). I didn't realize this until we got there at 1:30. The house was dark, and I wasn't willing to ring the doorbell, so we went to the motel. The desk clerk told me there were a lot of people with my last name living in the area. I knew that already.

It was a rainy weekend, so there wasn't much to do at the reunion except cook, eat, and play cards. I was asked to make leek-potato soup for Friday night's dinner, so I made three gallons, thinking there would be leftovers, but it all got eaten Friday night. I saw one of my cousins fill up a quart bowl with my perfectly balanced soup and then dump in a huge handful of grated cheddar cheese. I considered pitching a fit and calling him a Philistine, but I opted for a deep sigh instead.

Culinarily, it was all downhill from there. I think I eat too much when I'm uncomfortable. The family reunion is one of the few places I go where most of the people don't know I'm gay. They are all God-fearing people, and I always feel like a fraud. I was stuffed for most of the weekend, almost entirely on food that I would otherwise never eat, let alone serve.

Everyone there is very nice, but it is another world. EFU feels the same way and feels oppressed by all the public display of religion. YFU likes playing with her cousins.

On Sunday afternoon, I got to hang out with just my folks, my kids, and my sister and her family: good times. Then Mom gave my sister some money to take EFU shopping. My sister cried when we said goodbye. They are headed back to Seattle today.

A tanker truck jackknifed on Route 70, and the drive home took over four hours. The girls handled it pretty well, but we were all pretty tired when we got home.

I don't think I handle nostalgia well: I have a stomach ache, and I feel like I'm eleven years old, so I'm never having sex again.

Definitely not before tomorrow, anyway.