What a bunch of funny people!

Now Playing: lots of cousins

Cast of Characters (though most of you won't need this):
Uncle Kirk: my mother's younger brother, a doctor; with greying black hair and a funny smile (and he likes Tolkien! :)
Aunt Lisa: homeschool mother, math teacher, and quilting-and-knitting aficionado; long, straight, blond hair, and precise, deliberate way
Ross: my eldest cousin (17); thickset, muscled; with very short blond hair that used to be curly, until he went into the ROTC and they shaved it all off
Andrew: my next cousin (15); slender, dark-eyed, a carbon copy of my uncle
Peter: 13 or thereabouts; dark-haired, shorter and broader than Andrew; a friendly chap
Lillian: 11 or thereabouts; slender, dark-eyed, and freckled; almost a female version of Andrew
Annalee: 8 or so; short, with a headful of irrepressible blond curls; she bounces everywhere
Mary: 3, short, with a very sunny smile and hazel eyes; like Annalee, she seems to skip or hop everywhere she goes

Yesterday my cousins drove up from the south. They're all pansies, not being used to the cold weather. Last night we took them with us to Brother1's and Daisy's basketball games.

The first thing I heard this morning was the little girls (Daisy, Annalee, and Mary) giggling in the bathroom. They clattered around trying to find ribbons for their hair, and slammed my bedroom door open, and giggled some more, until Lillian, who's sleeping on a cot in my room, got up and joined them. I stayed hidden under the covers until they had cleared out, and then cautiously dressed and made my way downstairs. Of course, everyone (except Ross, who just finished his freshman semester in college) had already eaten. The adults were sitting around and discussing church controversies--sole Psalmody and the federal headship group.

After breakfast, I helped my mother wrap presents for the cousins, which my mother promptly gave to them to open. The three girls received bead packages, and the boys got a puzzle. Andrew immediately dumped the puzzle out onto a table, and he, Brother2, and Peter proceeded to sort through the jumbled pieces. I talked with Ross and my uncle about linguistics and music. The house was chaos: Ross went off to play computer games (chiefly composed of loud, zooming cars), the three younger boys were arguing and sorting out puzzle pieces, and the little girls were putting together necklaces, scribbling silly stories on pieces of paper, and generally spreading plastic baby toys all over the house.

For lunch we drove out to my grandmother's house. She lives in a duplex at an independent living facility where they have lunch for the residents and whatever guests the residents happen to invite. On the way, we passed red gashes in the fields where construction is going on. Blue trees the color of indigo at the heart of a candleflame, and saffron fields the gold of the flame's edge, had been bulldozed to make way for little "ticky-tacky" houses, in which all the beautiful bits are tossed together randomly, producing a peculiar and rather unpleasant architectural concoction.

At my grandmother's place, we all trooped into the communal dining room. There were sixteen of us (my other grandparents came, t00). Quite a sight. The elderly residents ogled us dully as we entered the room. After lunch, some people went home, but my grandmother, Aunt Lisa, Uncle Kirk, and I drove down to a little town southwest of where I live--a little town dropped like a pebble into rippling fields of winter wheat and cattle pasture. We went to a house fitted out as a quilting shop. While Uncle Kirk stroked the shop's cat, a sleek, black-and-white feline named High Dollar who purred uproariously at anyone who came near, Aunt Lisa and my grandmother poured over the racks of cloth and patterns. A couple of elderly women stitched leisurely at brightly-colored flannel quilts. I strolled about, looking at the cloth myself. Cheerful, fuzzy flannels; swirly, water-stained batiks; Asian patterns, gold-edged cranes and lotus flowers. There was Amish cloth with tiny, dark prints; black-and-white polka dots; red maple leaves veined with gold thread; orange patterns like swirling firebird feathers; green palmetto frond prints; blue stars.... Like being in a glowing underwater grotto--the fantastically-tinted, weird shapes of tidepool creatures, and the delicate fans of coral reefs. I helped Aunt Lisa pick out fat quarters for Peter's quilt: more muted colors (no florals!).

At home I showed my grandmother some new blogs, with which she was fascinated. I lounged on the sofa, feeling luxurious, and wasted time by reading "Calvin and Hobbes" comics. I helped my mother with supper: setting the long table for the seventeen of us, putting out fruit, etc. The house smelled salty, of ham, and brown-sugar-sweet, of squash. All my relatives who live in town came to eat supper with us, and a merry meal it was. The adults got to go first, leaving the children sitting and giggling, quarreling, complaining, or yawning at the lower end of the table. Peter put on a special hyena-yawn for the picture I took of him.

After supper we drove to a community band Christmas concert. Despite her protestations to the contrary, Mary fell asleep on the way and had to be tumbled not-too-gently out of her carseat. The community theatre was fairly full. I think whatever architect built that theatre was rather ambitious--I've never seen the place actually packed, nor do I think it could be. The band played fairly well. Fuzzy, jazzy Christmas tunes that are about as interesting to me as Hallmark rhymes. But they did play the overture to Handel's "Messiah", and three Christmas folk songs that I hadn't heard before. Afterwards (joy-of-joys!), I got to talk to my flute teacher, who was playing first flute in the band. She's doing quite well.

We got home around eight thirty, but of course everyone between the ages of sixteen and nineteen stayed up until ten thirty talking. My aunt was good enough to stay up with us (Brother1, Ross, and me). She sat, knitting, at the table, while the three of us lounged around and talked about the weird customs they have in ROTC and meal plans and unpleasant professors and getting out of labs. After awhile, my aunt finally put down her knitting and said, "Well, kids, it's ten thirty..." I took the hint and promptly went up to bed, only to find Lillian fast asleep on her cot in my room.