last night my parents came over for dinner. oddly, it was the first time this has happened in the almost two years since I moved out. Chris and I made caribbean chicken w/ cantaloupe and pineapple salsa. I had intended to document the creation of this meal, but unfortunately a number of complications occurred and made this impossible. there was a ton of traffic; we didn't get home until 5:45 (my parents were scheduled to arrive at 6:30). then, when I started to assemble the ingredients for the chicken rub/paste, I discovered that I only had cinnamon sticks. I needed grated cinnamon. so I spent the next ten minutes grating my own cinnamon (and some of my fingers as well). and the pineapple and cantaloupe weren't cut into small enough pieces, so I had to re-chop those. and the mint was all the way out in the yard and it was really difficult to chop so I ended up just tearing it with my bare hands... it was a difficult time. but everything turned out really well and I was quite happy with it. it is a shame I didn't get pictures, it was a very bright, summery looking meal. I think it would have looked lovely in pictures.
but yeah, it was a fun time. there was something surreal about it, to me, but I often feel that way when my house, belongings, or general adulthood are involved with my parents. it is difficult to explain, really, it's just odd. it strengthens my general feelings that I am just masquerading as an adult. I mean, here are my parents who are actual adults, and here I am trying to pretend like I am one as well (but failing for the most part). I just cannot get over how ridiculous I must look to them and anyone else who knew me as I was growing up. I even feel like people who haven't known me that long (neighbors, co-workers, random passers-by) must feel that way, must look at me and find my attempts hilarious. I am like a child, pretending. it's almost unbearably embarrassing. I'm sure it will get better with time, but I've just got to get to that point. I think that actually behaving like an adult might help, and I'm really trying to do that, but it's so hard...
it wasn't as bad when I lived at the apartment as it is now that I actually own a home. the apartment, somehow, didn't count for as much. lots of careless young people have apartments and still continue to act like giant children. but owning a home is a big deal, it should have somehow transformed me into a capable adult. but that obviously didn't happen and I feel a bit disappointed with myself. I wish there was some way of telling when you've reached adulthood, some sort of rite of passage and a badge that is presented to you so that you know you've arrived and so that you can show it to others to prove that you are on the same level as they are (I am pretty sure this is a run-on sentence but I am just going to let it go and move on).
seriously, this adulthood thing is confusing and difficult and complicated and, as I said before, hard. but fun, too. I mean, I ate chocolate chex mix for dinner last Friday. how awesome is that?