Homesick

We are finally home after a whirlwind of family time. We are all a bit tired, more than a little tanned, and well-fed. I do feel a bit like some very squished peanut butter and jelly, proverbially sandwiched between my the needs of the family I was born into and the one I was party to creating. The good news is that my brother is out of the hospital (but not entirely out of the woods) and my mother will be moving (not into the retirement home, but to a lovely condo).

During our stays with both of them, I cooked, both to feed us and to give them good food; since they both live alone, they are less motivated to cook every night, but they both have some foods habits that need adjusting. I aggressively sneaked soy grind onto my mother’s plate and organic peanut butter into my brother’s larder. But all was not mature and responsible: we ate loads of ice cream, to combat the blast furnace weather that Redding is so famed for, and a fair amount of ice-cold alcoholic beverages helped cool us by the pool.

I resisted cleaning out my mother’s fridge, though I did chuck some scary meat and mouse-gnawed rice. Likewise, I did not remove all the industrial “foods” from my brother’s house, but I did make sure we left behind some more sensible choices.

The bad news is that I woke with indigestion. All those days of plentiful ice cream and cheese left me feeling impervious, so I went ahead and poured cheap root beer over some ice cream last night. It was the bright pink bendy straw that broke this camel’s back; I will subsist on mint tea until the churning ends, and resume my responsible, mature, non-vacation diet and life anon.