Maria's Sunday 5/11

Whoa people it was Mother's Day this past Sunday!

Aaaaaaaaah Ciampa family gathering.
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(Quick explanation: there are 7 kids in Maria's family. 3 girls, one boy in the middle, and another 3 girls. She is the 5th. She grew up in an old Victorian house in Beverly where there was lots of food, yelling, running around, and confusion. Certain bathrooms in the house never worked, so you needed to plan where you were going to take a shit, an hope it panned out for you. The house was part of the underground railroad and, along with standards like 'house' and 'doctor', as a young girl, Maria enjoyed playing 'let's free the slaves'. Once, in an effort to educate his children, Maria's father Papa dissected a sand shark on the family's kitchen table . It had washed up on the beach down the street. Maria was fascinated. In her native environment, Maria tends to revert to old behaviors, like making very loud stupid jokes for attention and eating everything that exists. Maria just realized that these are also current behaviors.)
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My sister Dr. Sarah Ciampa, OD (7th kid of 7) was visiting the weekend and we made the brave trek to the Beverly Ciampa house together.

On the way there, we stopped at Esposito's on Rt. 1 in Revere and bought Calzone, cookies, and pastries. Ciampas make sure not to eat anything healthy when they convene.

When we got there, we were immediately directed to the 27 tons of homemade leftovers from the night before.

There was:
stuffed mushrooms
stuffed shells
chicken cordon bleu (this was disconcerting to Papa, who in his 82 years had never eaten it)
asparagus
tomato sauce and meatballs
fancy bread from a fancy bakery
pound cake
lots of wine
cheese
crackers
cookies

And everything else you could ever imagine eating.

I started with chicken, mushrooms, and shells. We ate. My father talked about how McCain was a war hero. He said something about taxes and what our country needs. Papa was in WWII, and all he cares about is that the "banana-brains in the government not take his money."

Then Sarah, Mom and I took Precious for a walk. Precious is a Yorkshire terrier. Why yes, funny that you ask, my Mom DID used to breed Yorkshire terriers. At one point, when I was in high school, there were about 48 yippy little shit dogs running around. The more to kick! I thought at the time. (I never kicked them. I did think about it. One of my sisters did put one in the microwave. She did not turn it on. I think.)

On the walk, we talked about what people we know are doing, who has cancer, and family fights. It was awful.

Then we got back home and Mom insisted that Sarah and I change into sweatsuits and do some gardening with her. She laid out the sweatsuits on Sarah's old bed, she informed us. My brother mowed the lawn and burped and farted a lot. My father feebly pushed a Kohl's cart around the yard, picking up weeds with his one hand that works and putting them in the pushcart. When he did this, he looked like a refugee from the Eastern Block. Papa and Joe yelled at each other and made comments to me and Sarah about the other one when they thought the other was out of earshot.

Then I watered the garden and planted some bulbs. Sarah held the hose and watered for a bit too. We did not change into sweatsuits though.

Then second round of eating - asparagus, stuffed mushrooms, red wine, about a whole sausage and pepper calzone, and all the pastries and cookies I could possibly fit into my organ called a stomach. By this time, I reverted back to 11 year old Maria, and the sweatsuit was calling to me. An elastic waistband would be awesome right about now, I thought as I ate 11 more canole.

Then came the part of the Ciampa family gathering where Mom tells us to take all her plates, kitchen gadgets and food. Surprisingly, Sarah took her up on this and began to wrap gold line fancy plates from the dining room cabinets in newspaper. She was serious. I think she'll get married soon - this is a sure sign in our family. When any of my sisters have started to let Mom give them plates or pans or juicers or food dehydrators or ravioli makers, they are gonna get hitched soon.

I took Mom's lemon press and a teapot. I love the teapot. Also some non-alcoholic champagne she put in my bag. I don't know why - my fight was diminished by that point.

It took me 6 days to recover from this Sunday. And I am 4 pounds heavier from it.