skip around the room, skip around the room

It is Brandon’s birthday. He opens his presents and pretends not to be disappointed in what he got. (He is, however, definitely not an actor.) We get in the car and drive to Fargo, where my cousin’s 4 year old daughter shows me her Barbie anthology, and makes me point out all the barbies that her mommy and I played with when we were her age. She goes to the bathroom, and brings me her mother’s jewelry box to keep me from being bored while she’s gone.

My uncle Jim is just as nutty as ever. He made me a celebrity in college because he and his roommate had an ice rink in their dorm room. Also a working ferris wheel. These stories had become myth by the time I arrived, and my connection to them was always shocking to people.

There is a brief dinner debacle. Baked beans don’t really bake, so they are put in the blender. Sloppy joe mix is overspiced, so it is passed off as taco meat. Much food-based hilarity ensues, while my mother patiently eats the screwed-up food and leaves the yummy ribs for everyone else. Aah, my family.