In the same vein.

This weekend I rode the train up to DC with my mom to visit my sister. We did the routine "OMG HOW DO WE NAVIGATE THE METRO" and "OMG WHITEHOUSE" and  "OMG LEGLESS VETERAN TRUMPET PLAYING BUSKER" before we settled down for a pizza and some Ben & Jerry's delivery. Yeah, that's right, they deliver Ben & Jerry's in DC. No big.
Anywho, the three of us hunkered down in my sister's basement apartment with her English bulldog and chatted the night away, planning our adventures for Saturday and deciding whether or not we would avoid our other family members in the city.
It's kind of strange- everyone in our family is well adjusted, interesting, and fun to be around. Nobody's too goofy or awkward (although my grandpa is a mouth-kisser, making for mega weird greetings and goodbyes) and yet, for whatever reason, there's always a sense of hesitancy whenever we go to visit anyone. It's not just relatives- if friends ask us to come over for dinner or meet at the beach, we always go, but not before a hearty twenty minutes or so of everyone bracing themselves for all the uncomfortablenesses that may or may not (usually not) happen. It's become a sort of backwards ritual, backwards because of how social myself and my siblings are by nature. Put us in a room full of strangers, we'll make twenty friends in twenty minutes, but ask us to answer a phone at home or invite someone over, you'd think we were hermits. I don't know what it is, this sort of bi=polar socialization, but everyone in my family seems to have it, except my dad.
He just doesn't like anyone at all.
Regardless, my mom, sister, and myself, finally decided to have dinner the following night with my brothers family and my aunt and uncle. Primed for social disaster, we rolled up to the house about thirty minutes late, fifteen of which had been spent debating whether or not we should even go. Needless to say, the time between walking in the door and walking out simply flew by with hardly a silent moment, and after heartfelt goodbyes and promises to hang out again soon, we found ourselves driving back to my sister's, marinated in equal parts good company and guilt.
"That was great" said my mom.
"I had fun" quipped my sister.
"We're awful people."
They couldn't agree more. We resolved to be better next time, not be so cynical- try getting more enthusiastic about hanging out with family, be more social, have more fun.
"We really should, guys," urged my mother. "They're so charitable- we should be more positive! We should be more hospitable." Agreed, agreed.
"Maybe next time I'll give them a big ol' mouth-kiss." Right back to square one.