Which means that I get to visit fairly often. And I get to stay a long time when John goes out of town. Like this week: John is in India with some friends from church and I am in Ontario, visiting family and friends. (Am I allowed to say that we're an international couple this week?)
The best part of coming back to where I'm from is remembering the sweet routines, the daily traditions, that make our family what it is.
Like Saturday morning garage sale-ing (sailing?). Which as a child I was dragged to, hoping and praying there would be some good toys at the next one, and then staying in the van reading a library book when there weren't. And which, as a teenager, I stayed and bed and slept right through, only to be awoken by my mom barging in my room exclaiming, "Jillian! Look what I got for two bucks!" "Hmmmpfh. Looksgoodmom. *yawn.*"
Now that I'm all grown up I still hate waking up early, but I have a new found respect for anything that only costs two bucks. So I drug myself out of bed and joined my parents, brother and his girlfriend, on a garage sale hunt through the rain.
I got some pretty good deals, although I admit I mostly showed stuff to my mom and let her do the bartering (she's a pro. her moto is "Cut the price in half and go from there." Usually she gets it for her half-price offer too.)
I got this old trunk for only $7!
If I didn't have to lug it all the way back to Michigan I might have snatched this cute little set right up. I'm now thinking about what furniture in my own place I could paint this color!
My mom bartered this painting down to $5 for me! I everything about it. My dad then tried to sell it at the next yard sale when another lady fell in love with it like I did. I had to turn down her pleas. Sorry lady- this one's coming home with me!
Sunday means church, then cake and coffee, then lunch. Dessert before lunch might seem backwards, but that's how we roll. On Sundays at least.
In the summer we eat outside, moving our plastic adirondack around the yard, following the shade. And food always gets served on fancy crystal trays. Just because it's Sunday.
Sunday afternoons are for lazing around, taking naps, watching golf on TV (if you're my dad), fixing up old bikes that your mom found in the trash so you can re-sell them online (if you're my brother), and taking lots of pictures with your camera, wondering when you're going to "get good" at it (if you're me), and just generally being super cute (if you're Hugo).
Family traditions = good for the soul.
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