It's that time again.
Time for me to leave the (mildly) grown-up life that I've created for myself here in DC -- my own apartment, my real job -- and fly home to California for ten days. I go home twice a year; once in the summer and again at the holidays.
Going home has become even more glorious than it was when I was in college. My big sister only lives a half-hour's drive away from home, so our parents see her relatively often throughout the year. Sometimes they buy her things, sometimes they make her dinner, sometimes they take her out to eat. But because they always tried to make spending even, and because I live thousands of miles away, when I come home they feel like they have to make up for lost time. This almost certainly means I can look forward to ten days jam-packed with restaurant meals (that I get to pick), homemade meals (that I get to pick), and shopping trips.
I'm very close to my family, and don't get me wrong -- in all honesty, I'd be just as excited if spoiling was not imminent. But I know it is, and there's no use pretending it won't be fun. Especially considering we were not particularly spoiled as children.
So here's to sleeping late, authentic Mexican restaurants (take that, DC!), shopping with Mom, and Dad's grilled steak (and ribs and burgers and chicken and salmon)...
I can't fucking wait.
*Oh, also? As soon as I get back to DC, I'm hitting Lemmonex's Baba Ghanouj recipe, and I'm hitting it HARD. Just so you're prepared.
4 years ago