Things never uttered at my family’s dinner table:
Who made the calamari?
Hey, Manny, pass the anchovies.
Where’d grandma get this capicola?
When’s the lasagna coming out?
Things Jonno’s family will never say at holiday gatherings:
You tell Vera that blackberry cobbler was just pure-d good.
Hank, pick out a couple of drumsticks for little Earl to chew on.
What did sister put up in her butterbean casserole this year?
Mama, save me some of that ambrosia for after my nap.
There are similarities, too, I suppose, but I can’t help feeling like I’ve got two passports up my sleeve.
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