The Kids' Table

Photo of the arbor as it’s progressing! Oh, and a photo of Rumi who mewed in my ear recently that he wasn’t getting enough blog time.



Saturday night we had "Kali" and "Tequila" over for dinner for their third annual anniversary celebration. Since Kali played a role in setting me up with Doc. B., it’s always a pleasure to get to share in her happiness. I’ve known Kali for 12 or 13 years and have always enjoyed her company. So it’s been fun getting to know Tequila over the past couple of years. The thing I noticed at first meeting was that Tequila tends to bring out the 10 year old boy in me. You know what I mean, the part of me that laughs at flatulence jokes and says things like “I’m rubber, and you’re glue...” Sometimes being immature is just plain fun, in the right context of course. So Saturday night was a much needed round of playfulness after my month of work travel during which I was forced to act my age, 24-7.

Now that I've proofread that first paragraph, it seems like I'm talking about a date with a bottle of Cuervo Gold. "Tequila" is actually a nickname for a real live person whose name happens to rhyme with tequila. Oh wait, that could be a dead give away that her name is really Mandila.

Anyway, after dinner, Kali, Tequila, Doc. B. and I went out back to the fire pit (thanks middle sis!) for s’mores (for sure brings out the ten year old!) and Glayva (thanks baby sis!). Somehow we got to talking about “the kids’ table” at extended family gatherings. I have fond memories of sharing holiday meals at grandma and grandpa’s farm. My parents, aunts, uncles, grandparents and any other adult guests would sit at the big table in the dining room while my sisters, brother, cousins and I would sit at folding card tables out on the glassed-in porch. We always had fun talking and laughing out there without feeling like we had to be on our best behavior. I never really wanted to graduate to the adult table since that meant I had to actually make use of the manners my mother taught me so well. But on occasion, there would be room for us kids at the adult table. Like the time when grandma put out some applesauce that had mold on it (her vision wasn't very good and she probably couldn't even tell that it had gone bad - runs in the family with a host of other lovely ailments!). If moldy applesauce had made its way to the kids’ table, we would have made jokes about it, thrown it away when no one was looking, or any number of other creative things. But since I happened to be sitting at the adult table this particular visit, I simply kept my mouth shut and passed the dish on to my aunt who promptly blurted out “June, there’s mold on this applesauce!”. I’m still not sure, to this day, which action was more appropriate for the adult table, mine or my aunt's? Maybe there was a happy medium. Perhaps I can ask Patricia Arquette if I ever happen to run into her.

Tequila was talking less about the memories and more about why, at age 44, her seat was still at the kids’ table? I wasn’t sure if the question was rhetorical so I didn’t chime in – but I did make a mental note that it would be great blog fodder. Plus, that was the polite thing to do, right?