Tuesday, April 25, 2006


I go to my Grandma's house every Sunday. I've been doing this since I was born, which means I've gone to my Grandma's house every Sunday for nearly 29 years. Before my dad's mom died, we went to her house, too. It's one of the most widely-celebrated traditions in my family. Every branch of the family hosts their own Sunday dinner, so I know that at noon on Sunday, all of my cousins, aunt and uncles are following the below schedule:

1. Arrive at grandma's house at noon.
2. Eat pasta.
3. Eat meatballs.
4. Eat sausage.
5. Eat salad.
6. Eat bread.
7. Drink Diet Rite.

These days my nieces are there, so in our family we can add to the list . . .
8. Stare at Rosa and Gianna and wait for them to do cute stuff, which, as you can probably tell by this picture of Gianna, it doesn't take long for that to happen.
I get to take the leftovers home because my grandparents loves my boyfriend, and he gets the leftovers. Here's how the conversation went last week:

Grandma: "You want to bring some leftovers to K?"
Sue Ellen Mischke: "Sure, Gram. I'll put them in this Tupperware container. How much meat can I take, Pop?
Poppy: "Take two-tree meatballs and a sausage."

1. Roughly two or three in the Italian-American language.