People at home

I would say people are crawling out of the woodwork this weekend, but I don’t like the expression. Especially given the fascination Otis the cat has with a particular corner of the kitchen, under the cabinetry. I’m hopeful nothing is crawling out there, or at least that Otis has the situation under control.

In a remarkable and rare confluence of humans, all four offspring have been (more or less) in residence for the long Thanksgiving weekend. This will revert to normal tomorrow when Rachel and Olivia return, respectively, to teaching and scholarship, and Gabe is likewise shipped by Amtrak to North Carolina after we grab a dinner bite at Union Station in D.C.

More remarkably, all woke up in time for a casual brunch we had this morning with their much younger Clement cousins. Becca hauled the ol’ Lego bin out of the basement, as is the custom, and the little Clem cousins adhered to their tradition of wanting to take our JarJar Binks Lego dude and several Lego pizzas home with them. Mindful of the fact that these same children have enough Legos at their home to sink the Titanic, I demurred. We will hunt down JarJar Binks and pizzas on Amazon for Christmas tokens, but retain what’s left of our supply for future Legomaniacs. While Olivia suspects that JarJar Binks might be shanghaied in someone’s pocket someday, we haven’t taken to pat-downs at the front door yet.

Now, Jeff has been nestled all snug in his bed, and I’m eating spaghetti. The girls, you see, have all decamped with gentlemen friends. If I were Mrs. Bennet, this would probably please me very much. Luckily there’s no entail here, so I get to keep the house, regardless. Don’t worry, ownership of this house does not convey any special title of upper-crustiness, unless it’s something like Earl of Esoteric HVAC Systems. No rich people will marry me for that title, I’m fairly certain.