REFLECTIONS ON A WEEKEND . . .

The K-As and I visited M on Friday evening . . . given the circumstances, M looks fantastic. Despite her absolute lack of exposure to the sun for the past two and a half months, M has "that glow," and of course the glow is doubled accordingly. It's so fun referring to the Noodles by their names now . . . we can't wait until they come out and start doing fun human tricks for us to laugh at. Also, I am buying CC2 a convertible when she grows up and building her a first-floor bedroom, because every daughter should have the means with which to absolutely torment her father.

***

Friday night, I arrive home to find a veritable herd of elderly folks from the Motherland sitting in my living room: my mom's uncle, mom's aunt, and mom's aunt's cousin, who would be like a fourth-aunt-six-times-removed from me, or something utterly convoluted like that. They had all just returned from one of those groovy Korean tours, where they load a bunch of elderly-like folks on a charter bus and drive almost the entire length of the Eastern seaboard in five days and call it a sightseeing excursion. They, with my gran, had seen Washington, D.C., Quebec, Boston and Newport, before arriving back in NYC. Oy!

It was nice to see them, although they are such strangers to me that it was hard to feel a familial connection at first. Also, the granduncle had lived in NY when I was much younger and I remember being terrified of him, so seeing him lounging on our couches was a bit unnerving, and brought back some awful memories of severe cheek-pinching and orders to "Sing! Sing a song!" But they had had a few beers, so there was no cheek-pinching to be had, and my dad deflected the orders to "Sing! Sing a song for me!"

And then they got loud. First, they all tried to one-up each other as they told stories of what they had seen on their "tour." Then, my grand-aunt and her brother got into an argument about whether or not I should be married by now. Then, they started ranting about the rampant corruption in South Korean politics. And finally, everyone argued about where we would all sleep. This should have been a non-argument because of course I was going to sleep on the couch and give up my bed. Please.

Truly, the (facetiously) best part of having a whole bunch of Korean old folks in your house is that they ALL get out of bed at 6:00am on Saturday mornings, and they never go through a groggy, quiet waking-up transition period. They are FULL VOLUME from the moment they open their eyes. They clomp up to the couch upon which you were peacefully sleeping and loudly declare "Look at the poor thing! How can she sleep out here with all this noise?!" They sit next to your head and read the Korean newspaper . . . out loud to each other. They start to make breakfasts that involve many loud pots and pans, before debating the virtues of having a good ol' American breakfast at the local diner.

But the (really) best part of having a bunch of Korean old folks in your house is that before they leave for a good ol' American breakfast at the local diner at 8:00am on a Saturday morning, they pat your head and tell you how beautiful you are and how you should sleep until noon to catch up on the sleep you lost because of their early-morning chattering. Smile.

***

Saturday afternoon, we went to Canada. Well, not really, but it might as well have been. A whole bunch of New Hopers trooped up to Wappingers Falls -- The Wapp-with-a-hard-pp for you true gangstas -- to hang out at the Gs. Our original plan was to go hiking in the morning, then BBQ in the afternoon-into-the-night, but given the treacherous weather forecast, we opted for afternoon bowling instead. Of course, it was gorgeous and sunny all morning long. Of course.

The ride up only took 45 minutes, I dare say, but at a certain point, when you've driven through three counties, you kind of start to feel like there's no end in sight. Yukon Territory, here we come . . . exhausted and road-weary (what a bunch of wusses), we landed at the Gs, toured their spacious new home, then headed out for bowling. At The Hoe Bowl. Niiice.

Eh, I bowled like a fool, and only hit strikes when I had a nacho chip in my left hand. Something about balance. Tractor beam shut down for the day, though that didn't stop me from nearly sliding down the lane every other turn. Watched Terry Cloth's unusual style, watched JC try to imitate it, hammed for JKA's new camera, fell over laughing as MJ, The King of Pop launched his bowling ball down his lane -- it was airborne about three feet off the ground for almost the entire length of the lane. Thank you, HOE BOWL.

Then we all crammed into the Gs place and ate and drank up. Even surrounded by friends, the introvert in me roared up with a vengeance and I started to feel claustrophobic and exhausted, so I snuggled into a corner of the sofa and dozed for a bit while not-really-watching "Gladiator." Forty dull, dusty Roman minutes later, I crawled out of my hole and joined the rest of the world for some Speed Scrabble. I am really good at Speed Scrabble, I discovered. Of course, whatever skills I have with these word games is completely nullified by the fact that I can't add up my scores and need to turn to JW to make sure that 18 + 2 does indeed equal 20. Feh.

After a rude and crude game of Taboo, we all headed home, leaving Canada at least until a nice fall day when we really will go hiking.

***

Sunday, NHF took communion for the first time in a LONG time. Being without a pastor for a year brings all the expected hardships and uncertainties to a church, but for me, going without communion for so long was emotionally and spiritually draining.

Yesterday's communion service came at just the right time, not just for me, but -- I sense -- for NHF as a body. I feel like the past few months have been particularly painful -- a good pain -- for all of us, for a variety of reasons. Taking communion as a family yesterday afternoon was a helpful reminder of the good pain, as well as a much-needed rebuke and guide to moving past it into some real healing, unity and forward-thinking-ness. Not a dry eye in the house. Never have I participated in a more meaningful communion service.

No better way to start my week . . . .