They say the no party is really over until it’s been discussed. Some say that is the best part. Usually there isn’t much material at a family barbecue, but when the guests are your father and his new girlfriend, who used to be (and actually still is) married to your husband’s father, there are endless possibilities. But we didn't get to that at home.
After my father and Missy had left, everybody collapsed in front of the television with the remains of the snacks. Fortunately, we used paper plates, so there hadn’t been much cleanup.
Cilla was taking the pimentos out of the remaining olives and giving them to Duke and wondering why we never have black olives.
“Because they suck,” Betsey said.
“And they aren’t festive,” Josh added. “They’re all black and boring.”
“And they have those pits,” I added. “That can be a choking hazard. Of course there are some with the pits taken out. My cousins and I used to put them on our fingers. But we wouldn’t eat them. Sometimes we’d put them in our pockets and throw them at each other later. Outside, of course. ”
Ed shook his head. “And you wonder where they get their ideas!”
“What did your grandmother say when she found them in the yard?”
“I don’t know if she ever did.”
Josh was thoughtful. “It was smart that you did it outside. That way when the grass was cut, they would get chopped up and the evidence would be destroyed."
“That’s very good thinking, Josh.” I wondered if he had applied his good thinking to anything else.
Naturally, Cilla started putting the olives on her fingers. I had to head her off. “The rule of the game is you have to use black olives. It doesn’t work with green ones.”
Ed wanted to know why it wouldn’t. I don’t know if he was really puzzled or if he was just trying to trip me up.
“Yeah, why?” Josh asked.
I am not firm very often. But there is such a thing as tradition. “Because that is the rule. You can’t break a rule.” The kids understood that. Ed looked disgruntled.
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