Because this is not a creative writing assignment, I am going to tell, not show. Also, list-making is my favorite thing ever.
The Mains
Mom
Spent 20 years shopping and cooking for ungrateful children and is, shockingly, over it. Her preferences on the domestic front now involve antique silverware and outfitting my sister’s apartment – 2000 miles away – via Craigslist and text messages. Instrumental in keeping my vegetable garden alive. Ventures into the kitchen to make hummingbird nectar and cocktails.
Dad
Bless him, will eat almost anything, including long-forgotten leftovers that could be classified rightfully as carrion. (Let this be no reflection on the state of my refrigerator.) He can light a charcoal barbeque with no special equipment and carve a turkey consulting neither a manual nor Food Network video. Was an Eagle Scout, needless to say.
Sister
Lives in Chicago but has just arrived for a two-week stay. Vegetarian, anesthesiologist, adorable, morally superior to me in almost every way. I say “almost” as she loves soy bacon, which is disgusting and undoubtedly a strike against her where heaven is concerned. Will drag out, set up, and clean the food processor rather than just chop the onion already.
Brother
In college, mechanical engineering. Can make many useful things, none of which is dinner. He is called into action when a roux is necessary; understands fat-flour-liquid ratios and their relevant applications as well as any Southern grandmother. His criticism of my meals is both unwaveringly enthusiastic and willfully vague.
The Support
Cats
Five. Pickier than they have any right to be. Incompetent hunters who once half-killed a bird (it must have been a group effort) and had no idea how to finish it off. Prefer buttered ribeye from free-range, already-dead cows.
Spoiled Backyard Squirrels
No exact headcount, but I’m surprised we haven’t reached locust-level infestation since the quality and regularity of their meals (fancy nuts hand-delivered to their feeders twice a day) is, on the whole, much better than my own.
Friends, Boyfriends, Girlfriends
Their eating habits and dietary eccentricities will be (lovingly!) disclosed once they agree that this blog will alter the dominant cultural paradigm/further their careers/not embarrass them. As such, I may never get to speak of them again.
Enjoyable description of the people you must deal with!!
Why is “boyfriends” plural?