Monday, May 31, 2004
Monday in Maryland
C and I flew into Maryland Sunday morning at 7am. We spent most of the last two days in cars. First we drove the hour and a half to my parents' house in Annapolis. Then after brunch and a short nap, we drove two hours to my cousin Maureen's housewarming party in Manchester, Pennsylvania. We got a tour of her new digs complete with details about what all had been fixed up. She did a great job; the house looked fantastic. The wooden floors are gorgeous. The house clearly has a history that is well-maintained in the small details of it's wooden fixtures, including swans neck hood molding along the edges of the top cabinets in the kitchen and bullseyes at the corners of all of the moulding in the living room. Maureen and her mom, my Aunt Joan, did a fanstastic job of setting up the house for our feast. And my Uncle Denny, as usual, did a superior job at the grill.
O'Malley family gatherings are always entertaining. After the tour of her house, we had a barbecue in her backyard. During which, my Dad led a group of us into Maureen's garage.
"Now, what do you suppose that is?" He asked, pointing to a cloudy plastic object hung on the wall at waist level. It looked like an old plastic milk jug with a tube attached to the spout. The tube was then stuck into a hole in the wall which led to the outside.
I should mention, the O'Malley's (of which I am included, as my mother's maiden name was "O'Malley"), are notorious for bathroom humor. And my father, though he was born a "Holmes" has over the years been indoctrinated into the O'Malley sense of humor.
Everyone started giggling. No one needed to state the obvious, especially when laughter was happening in this family. There was always some connection to waste elimination. Thus enough was said - the object appeared to be a home-made urinal.
When the weather started to cool, a group of us headed into Maureen's living room, where we were protected from the elements.
"You know, I saw this t-shirt the other day. It said "Buzz Woody;" what do you suppose that means?" My mother often points out random details in life and then enjoys a good light-hearted and creative discussion on the subject. Minimally, she's usually able to come up with an entertaining story she's made up on the topic.
I decided this was definitely a Kodak moment, and pulled out my parent's camcorder.
"So, what do you think 'Buzz Woody' means?" I asked as I pointed the camera at each of my relatives present in the room. The answers were very entertaining, some more creative than others.
Aunt Marie: I think it's when you chop down a tree with a chainsaw.
Dad: I think it's somebody's name.
ME: I think Woody Allen got a crew cut. Or is a woody a type of pipe?
Uncle Norv: There is a pipe called a wood pipe.
Uncle Denny: Buzz would, would he?
Cousin Tristan, 5 years old: It's the flowers talking to the tree.
Cousin Michael: Well, we all know what a woody is.
Mom: No, what's a woody?
Katie: I've heard of buzzed balls, but not a buzzed woody.
After partying at Maureen's, we caravaned the two hours to see the house my cousin Sean bought in Rising Sun, Maryland. Driving with the 'rents is always a lively time. My parents have a very "passionate" relationship, as they call it. Though I have to say it's a passion that I could probably live without. Though I will admit that things rarely get boring.
We had a big slumber party at Sean's, having arrived after 10pm. Fortunately, Sean's wife Theresa was still awake when we arrived, as she had to work the next day. So we grabbed up the few minutes of chitchat with her before going to bed, knowing we wouldn't get to see her again during the rest of our trip. We then woke up to a yummy smell of the brunch Sean had cooked up. He's an excellent host.
After brunch, Sean; Tristan; Tristan's mom, Mary; C; and I hiked down the slippery slope of Sean and Theresa's backyard in order to make our way to the creek in their backyard. Despite the fact that it was no more than 60-something outside, Tristan was set on going swimming. So while Sean made his way across the creek with Tristan wrapped like a contortionist around his neck and shoulders, Mary and I chatted about her recent course in Healing Touch.
Later, back in the living room, my cousin Liz and I bonded over our most recent respective body modifications (tattoos and piercings) and goofed off by discretely hiding balls of dog fur in each others' hair.
Both of the cousins' houses were quite enviable, especially compared to the dinky, run-down, hole-in-the-wall apartment C and I rent for over a grand a month in San Francisco.
My sister's apartment is also a dream, though at least she is sending her rent checks into the same black hole that we are. We arrived here this evening and I am enjoying an evening of my favorite sister bonding type of moments - baring our hearts over blueberry beer.
O'Malley family gatherings are always entertaining. After the tour of her house, we had a barbecue in her backyard. During which, my Dad led a group of us into Maureen's garage.
"Now, what do you suppose that is?" He asked, pointing to a cloudy plastic object hung on the wall at waist level. It looked like an old plastic milk jug with a tube attached to the spout. The tube was then stuck into a hole in the wall which led to the outside.
I should mention, the O'Malley's (of which I am included, as my mother's maiden name was "O'Malley"), are notorious for bathroom humor. And my father, though he was born a "Holmes" has over the years been indoctrinated into the O'Malley sense of humor.
Everyone started giggling. No one needed to state the obvious, especially when laughter was happening in this family. There was always some connection to waste elimination. Thus enough was said - the object appeared to be a home-made urinal.
When the weather started to cool, a group of us headed into Maureen's living room, where we were protected from the elements.
"You know, I saw this t-shirt the other day. It said "Buzz Woody;" what do you suppose that means?" My mother often points out random details in life and then enjoys a good light-hearted and creative discussion on the subject. Minimally, she's usually able to come up with an entertaining story she's made up on the topic.
I decided this was definitely a Kodak moment, and pulled out my parent's camcorder.
"So, what do you think 'Buzz Woody' means?" I asked as I pointed the camera at each of my relatives present in the room. The answers were very entertaining, some more creative than others.
Aunt Marie: I think it's when you chop down a tree with a chainsaw.
Dad: I think it's somebody's name.
ME: I think Woody Allen got a crew cut. Or is a woody a type of pipe?
Uncle Norv: There is a pipe called a wood pipe.
Uncle Denny: Buzz would, would he?
Cousin Tristan, 5 years old: It's the flowers talking to the tree.
Cousin Michael: Well, we all know what a woody is.
Mom: No, what's a woody?
Katie: I've heard of buzzed balls, but not a buzzed woody.
After partying at Maureen's, we caravaned the two hours to see the house my cousin Sean bought in Rising Sun, Maryland. Driving with the 'rents is always a lively time. My parents have a very "passionate" relationship, as they call it. Though I have to say it's a passion that I could probably live without. Though I will admit that things rarely get boring.
We had a big slumber party at Sean's, having arrived after 10pm. Fortunately, Sean's wife Theresa was still awake when we arrived, as she had to work the next day. So we grabbed up the few minutes of chitchat with her before going to bed, knowing we wouldn't get to see her again during the rest of our trip. We then woke up to a yummy smell of the brunch Sean had cooked up. He's an excellent host.
After brunch, Sean; Tristan; Tristan's mom, Mary; C; and I hiked down the slippery slope of Sean and Theresa's backyard in order to make our way to the creek in their backyard. Despite the fact that it was no more than 60-something outside, Tristan was set on going swimming. So while Sean made his way across the creek with Tristan wrapped like a contortionist around his neck and shoulders, Mary and I chatted about her recent course in Healing Touch.
Later, back in the living room, my cousin Liz and I bonded over our most recent respective body modifications (tattoos and piercings) and goofed off by discretely hiding balls of dog fur in each others' hair.
Both of the cousins' houses were quite enviable, especially compared to the dinky, run-down, hole-in-the-wall apartment C and I rent for over a grand a month in San Francisco.
My sister's apartment is also a dream, though at least she is sending her rent checks into the same black hole that we are. We arrived here this evening and I am enjoying an evening of my favorite sister bonding type of moments - baring our hearts over blueberry beer.
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