Though I very rarely talk about my personal life on the blog due to privacy concerns, I will say that for years, I have attended a flexibly-scheduled weekly family dinner that rotates among the members’ households with the host cooking for the guests. This is an extension of the tradition that began during my childhood and some weeks we have up to four generations under one roof.
[mainbodyad]We took it from the so-called “Soul Food” tradition of the deep south and it has been one of the best investments we ever made time-wise. It keeps the family connected and carves out time that isn’t available to the outside world. It’s been going on so long, I don’t even remember when it began or the first such occasion. But at least 52 times a year, the entire clan gather together to talk about life, business, politics, relationships, economics, or just to watch a movie.
This afternoon, I had brought a pile of annual reports with me in case we were there until tonight (there have been occasions we stayed until 2 a.m.), but I spent most of the time holding my three-week-old nephew as he slept and listening to stories about princesses and pink castles from my niece (a theme which never gets old, with a new twist every time she tells it). My brother had several other commitments so we disbanded after only two or three hours and I tried to decide whether to go to the office and get caught up on work or go home.
I talked to Aaron and asked if he wanted to go in to jump start the week but he was about as agnostic as I was so instead, he drove with me to get flavor burst ice cream cones, a summer tradition around these parts. I’ll probably spend the rest of the evening working on some About.com content and then, maybe, attend a fireworks show to which I was invited tonight. But I’ve been eating an ice cream about once every five days now, or four times a month. That seems a bit too high, even though I only do it in the summer. Man, you can tell I’m getting older …