Growing up, there were a few things I could always count on for family gatherings around any holiday at my grandmother's house.
#1 - There would either be some kind of "Sing Along with Mitch" album playing on repeat, or something like the Boston Pops that would inspire a well choreographed dance party or foxtrot, jitterbug, and polka moves. Mostly just involving the girls. And, involuntarily, any unlucky man that was careless enough the try to walk through the red-carpeted living room.
#2 - The dish full of broccoli would begin cooking at the same time as the turkey.
#3 - At some point just before every meal, usually while the dining room was full of the hustle and bustle of setting the table and propping up the card table for food, the smoke detector would go off. Without fail - breakfast, dinner, didn't matter. And because of this, everyone seemed to know where the nearest dish towel was at all times.
I had this dream last night that was all about those dish towels, watching as they performed a spirited dance as they were waved in the air near the ever-present smoke detector outside the kitchen door in my Grandmother's house. Flashes of color appearing and disappearing in mismatched rhythms.
Sort of an odd thing to dream about. And I'm not sure what it meant. But it made me happy.
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