Returning to the Homeland

5 Sep

This weekend I returned to the homeland to spend time with family.

For the record, my “homeland” is in the  middle of Bumblefart, Pennsylvania where the WalMarts have poles in the parking lots for the Amish to tie up their horses.

For realsies.

I’ve been frequenting the armpit of the state (always charming to me, rarely to others)  thanks to the addition of two shiny new sprogs in the family over the last two months.  The gas money is slaughtering me like a filthy, fat pig.  Apparently the oil industry giants have no sympathy for my condition.

Any good weekend home, of course, must be spent in competition.  My family was raised on board games of all shapes and sizes, as my father was once a game board artist.  That is, he did the artwork for board games designed by himself and someone else.   It made for some pretty groovy child-rearing.

Well that and the fact that my father was a Dungeons and Dragons Dungeon Master – which you can read more about here.

From the very moment I stepped foot in my brother’s house to the very moment I stepped foot outside, we were either eating or playing board games.  Of course, there were babies too – but the butt wiping and the baby holding and the rocking to sleep was a sort of side dish to the weekend’s mind games that were played in rounds of cards and battle map tiles.  It was epic.

I find it amusing that both my brothers are now grown up, married, and firing up the baby factories but when we sit around the table they are reduced to their impish, 10-year-old selves.  When we’re around the table, we’re all just kids again.   My brothers are always at war, sparring over who is the one true mental giant.  The evening is interspersed with loud, shamless flatulence, almost always courtesy of my middle brother.  I’m the youngest – the baby of the bunch – grumpy and confused when I don’t understand a new game and hoping in times of desperation that someone will take pity on my state and let me piggyback to victory.  And my father is there all the while – never truly an adult himself – chiming in and egging us on.  Because now when we’re combative, he doesn’t have to live with us and manage the fallout. 

It makes it hard to return to reality sometimes.   I find myself looking around the table and wondering why family ever moves away from each other do to anything other than be together and enjoy family.   

But then I remember how absolutely insane I go after too long with them all and I remember it’s best for all of us.

Still, it’s hard to return to my adult life once I’ve had a good healthy dose of my kid life.  I would much prefer to still be around that gaming table, fielding my brothers farts and provoking my brothers against each other.  

But alas, reality calls me.  And to the office dungeon I must return tomorrow.

Perhaps I’ll spend tomorrow night crafting that million dollar idea. 

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4 Responses to “Returning to the Homeland”

  1. misswhiplash September 5, 2011 at 2:44 pm #

    Have a really great vacation, drive carefully, stay safe and come back to us soon.

    At leats you will not be working in a windowless room!

    Have fun hun!

    Like

  2. pegoleg September 6, 2011 at 9:29 am #

    Love that line about moving away from your family. I moved about 7 hours away, 30 years ago, and always wished I could have raised my kids side-by-side with all my big, noisy family.

    What game do you whup them boys at?

    Like

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