Tuesday night Dad and I picked up Grandma at the airport. It's the first time we've all been home together since Christmas. I don't get homesick, but I don't know if I'm ever more content than when we're all here.
Grandma and Mom pulled a tag-team effort and made a beautiful spread. I wrote an eight-page paper—"Defining the Desperation of 'The Mass of Men': Actual Rationality in the Individual." My professor was trying to make it as easy as possible for us, requiring a prospectus, an outline, and a preliminary bibliography, but he just ended up making more work for me. I gave him a nebulous thesis and spotty citation, and then did almost all of my actual research as I wrote the paper. I just spread all of my books and annotated notes out around me and jumped in. It took at least eight hours, but it's how I work best.
Dad carved the turkey, as per usual.
Shannon made something delicious, as per usual.
And we all ate lots and lots, as per usual.
Grandma brought frozen rhubarb with her from Cleveland, because it can be hard to find out here.
And Dad chose the smallest, most uncomfortable seat in the house to eat it. I, frankly, thought it was hilarious.
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