Saturday, November 24, 2012

turkey dramz

There are few things I love more than Thanksgiving.
Thanksgiving is always the same-old, same-old but in the best ever-ancient-ever-new way possible. 
My family has been self-described by my mother as chaos incarnate (her words, friends, not mine).
And this weekend has definitely lived up to that description.

As my brother knelt down to offer Mass, and the rest of the family gathered around our own table of thanksgiving. As the morning sun bathed the warm gold dining room with comfy light, I looked at each family member as we shared a meal of Dad's chocolate chip pancakes, and we laughed over stupid inside jokes and made fun of each family member in turn, and listened to stories from the past weeks and months, and were just a whirlwind of our own particular brand of chaos.

Christmas Morning Chaos

I was trying to explain to my Dad my own particular brand of sloppiness. How my desk is covered with books: there are books here, books there, books spilling over into piles on the floor. I just have a lot of books. Will I read them all? Probably not. But it's comforting to know they're there.
But they're not dusty. I hate dust. Hate it. I hate crumbs on the floor and hair in the sink, or dust on a mirror. I like things clean. But cluttered. "You're a cluttered neat freak," suggested my dad.
Precisely! I chirped.

I like a lot of clutter and chaos. I feed off of it.
Maybe that's why I thrive in a family of eight squished comfortably into a four bedroom house. 
It's a house full of cascades of chaos and clutter--and of all the things I'm thankful for, this is up at the very top.

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