Put a Fork in Me, Baby

Put a fork in me, baby, because I’m done.

Now, kind reader, perhaps you are imagining that I am a steak. And you are picturing putting a three-pronged utensil into me, taking a bite, and washing me down with some A1 sauce.

Stop! I’ve got so much more life to live.

No, kind reader, please don’t eat me. I’m being figurative. Not literal. I don’t travel much in the realm of literality. In my writing or, I’m sorry to say, in my living. I’m more of a fanciful kind of guy. The veil is thin over here.

When I write that you ought to put a fork in me, baby, it is because of a quick trip we took this winter break. It put me on my back.

***

My nuclear family made the last minute decision to pack our things and head to The Twin Cities for Christmas. Our destination was St. Paul, Minnesota. Highland Park, in fact. The place where I was born. The neighborhood I grew up in. Home?

I rented an AirBNB on Sargent Avenue. A handful of blocks away from my childhood house near the Mississippi River on Mt. Curve Boulevard. The AirBNB was too expensive. As I wrote, we waited until the last minute to book the trip. Should have been more planful.

An aside: WordPress doesn’t think planful is a word. Red squiggly lines. I don’t care. Planful, for me, is a word.

Back to our trip. We picked our beautiful children up after school on Friday afternoon and arrived in St. Paul on Friday night. Saturday was a whirlwind. We held an open house for friends and family that began at 8:30 in the morning and ended around 9:00 in the evening. We went to church and then did the same thing on Sunday. Spent Christmas Eve with Katie’s family. Got up early on Christmas day and drove home to Iowa City. I parked the car in the garage, went upstairs, unpacked my suitcases, and collapsed in the fetal position.

My introversion is knows no bounds. I was a mess after a weekend of yuletide extroversion. Now, of course it was good to see the people that we could see. There are always more people I’d like to see when I’m back in the Cities. Never enough time. Our last minute trip was short as all get out. Still, I need the rest of winter break to recover from our decision to return to Minnesota for the holidays.

***

It has has been about eight years since we last spent Christmas with family. My little nuclear family has established a pretty chill routine. On Christmas Eve, we get hot chocolate and drive around, looking at lights. The boys open some presents. We wake up on Christmas day, the boys open the rest of their presents, and we spend a quiet day at home. Very peaceful.

This routine emerged, in part, because we lived 1,000 miles away from family after moving to Pennsylvania. Traveling home was no easy feat in those days. I’ve discovered that, even though we are much closer, traveling home is still no easy feat.

Again, don’t get me wrong. I enjoyed seeing my friend, spending time with family, and to being in my old neighborhood. I drove by the old Tudor house I grew up in near the river, showed Solomon the version of Horace Mann elementary I attended, and almost picked up food from Cecil’s Jewish Deli. I couldn’t get in because the line was so long. Highland Park continues to bustle, I guest. Still, at the end of the weekend, it was good to return to Iowa City. I’ve got a very comfortable couch, even if Meowalicious is trying to claw it to shreds.

So no, please don’t eat me, kind reader. Still, the fork is in me. I’m done. Many naps are needed to recover from the great Tanner Family Christmas Vacation of 2023.