You know those big, dysfunctional but lovable white families you used to see in television and film? They were all about siblings being super shitty to each other. Yet when one member of the family was threatened, the family closed ranks and fended off the attacker.
I grew up in a huge, white, broken, dysfunctional family.
Our rescue dogs learned a lot of commands and tricks — sit, down, stay, roll over, etc. Their favorite command was “vacuum.” Woofie, our Dane-Lab mix, would eat anything — even rocks. (He couldn’t digest rocks — or cabbage, or corn cobs — but he’d still eat them. And then throw them up, of course. Preferably on the nice carpet. Or my shoes.) Continue reading Doggone In-laws (#177)
Bet your friends would like this (unless they're racists):
Do you remember all the lovely food at your wedding? The cuisine that you carefully selected in advance? The hors d’oeuvres of bacon-wrapped scallops, chicken satay, or asparagus goat cheese brioche? Can you recall the taste of the prime rib, or the mushroom ravioli?
My Chinese-American boyfriend and I had been engaged 12 hours. His mother had already booked a church in Hawaii – never mind that I wanted to get married in New Hampshire. Sunny, however, refused to hear any plans that ran counter to hers.
It was my engagement weekend at a very ritzy hotel in South Pasadena with my Chinese-American fiancé. My white family was several time zones ahead on the East Coast. Andy’s parents live in Hawaii. Andy’s parents were the first to find out we were getting married.