There’s no place like home.
And I’m not just saying that. There is no place on earth quite like the Journey household. There are four of us- me, Spence, Mom, and Dad- and I always said it felt like we lived in “Cheaper by the Dozen.” And it did.
And it does: it’s nice to be back.
Home for me is an old, white, four-bedroom house with squeaky hardwood floors and doors that don’t quite shut all the way. It’s surrounded by big leafy trees that provide perfect shade for summer picnics. A trampoline, several gardens, a golf cart, and a pond dot the vast backyard- half of which serves as the runway for Dad’s Beechcraft Bonanza. Inside the house, rows of windows allow streams of sun to light up the maple cabinets in the kitchen, my favorite spot. A block or two of Parmigiano-Reggiano or asiago can always be found in the cheese drawer, and Mom is usually hiding salted caramels or a box of See’s Candy on top of the fridge. Music is always playing, never from just one source. The Creedence or Beatles from Dad’s office may compete with the Jack White or Modest Mouse from Spencer’s iPad, but it’s a happy cacophony. Reading material abounds, from the stack of Smithsonian magazines on the coffee table to the piles of history and classic fiction adorning the living room bookshelf. This time of year, a fire crackles constantly in the wood stove. And it is cozy and wonderful.
But the real attraction, the real home, is the family who lives in this house. My family is loving, cool, classy…and silly and goofy and dorky and prone to spill and completely fun.
•Last year we all flashed the peace sign and wore afro wigs for our Christmas card, which read “Peace on Earth.”
•Dad is trying to train the cat to sit, stay, and roll over. Needless to say, it’s not working out.
•Spencer conducts what I consider experiments and he calls cooking in the kitchen. Once, he made a healthy fruit and veggie concoction to which he added ONION. I’d advise you to stay far away from his “smoothies.”
•That expensive cheese in the fridge? We fight over it. All of us. It can turn into a silverware joust: keep your finger or get that last piece of grana padano, your choice.
•Mom wears a leather BCBG bracelet which boldly declares “DUH” in silver letters. She’s happy to display it if you say something obvious.
•Dad brags about how he “makes good bread.” With a little questioning, it became clear my dad has baked two loaves of bread in his life. That was over 20 years ago. The “statute of limitations” has run out on that one, I happily informed my legal professional of a father.
•Me? I dance like a fool to anything with a good beat. I mean, I can’t exactly help it. I talk with my hands (blame it on the Italian blood) and inconveniently whack them on nearby furniture, more than I’d like to admit. I say regrettable things like, “what? You all are looking at me like I grew a third nose!” I’m a punchline, a scapegoat…but I am loved. 🙂
I’m so excited to have a family and a dog and a yard again. Seriously. I love college, but I need this break! I can’t wait to see what the rest of the week holds.
Song of the Day: Comin’ Home Baby by Michael Bublé