Some families are the Walton’s and some are the Sopranos. My family lies right in the center. We don’t share the same house and say good night to each other but we do not pay a visit to your house to say good night forever.

We are not involved in crime or violence* and are good candidates to be voted family least likely to tune you up.

We are not without our own issues. No we don’t have old disagreements seething below the surface resulting in long periods of incommunicado. We talk to each other quite frequently . The problem is that our conversation does not seem to to get the job done when information needs to be conveyed

One of the most common phrases uttered during our conversations is “no one told me that”. Of course the “no one” being referred to here is any person having come in contact with us.

Given our track record we consider family news from the Kwiki Mart clerk as reliable.

The information lapses that have occurred through the years have ranged from the loss of a favorite relative to “we’re coming to visit after Christmas”. The latter being the most recent incident and directly affected yours truly.

During a visit this past Thanksgiving, a casual conversation with my mom revealed she and my brother would be visiting after Christmas. “Oh, really. No one told me that.” I’m going to have to have a talk with that Kwiki Mart clerk.

A phone conversation with my brother on Thanksgiving day confirmed the rumor was true. “I guess we should ask if it’s ok.” he said.

Well of course it would be ok. To be honest this visit had been expected for sometime. I had hired my wildly talented brother to redo my kitchen over a year ago. Everything went smoothly until the flooring arrived. It resembled what I had ordered in the manner that I resemble Brad Pitt. Not so much.

I requested floor samples to make the right choice and my brother moved on to work jobs that he had lined up. Business was picking up for him and given the state of the economy I was perfectly satisfied with my temporary kitchen flooring of a sheet of plastic and a throw rug. Hey don’t knock it. Cleaning the kitchen floor involves shaking the rug out on the back porch and sweeping the plastic. No fuss, no muss. Too bad I was not still in college to enjoy the full benefits during after party cleanup.

The family visit was to finish up my kitchen. My brother was coming to finish the floor and my mom was going to make sure we didn’t kill each other. Truth be told my mom likes to organize and I don’t. She would be happy. I have plenty of things to organize.

After all was said and done I had a wonderful time with my family and my kitchen looks awesome.

My place had the crap organized out of it and most important of all I feel loved. I want to thank my family for that.

My bathrooms could stand to be remodeled. I’ll have to mention that to the Kwiki Mart clerk.

*Unless you consider the english language a victim of my writing.