"Mister cat...," Bami's voice trails off as she enthusiastically combs the tiny nursing home apartment for the angry, disagreeable, and biting cat. "Oh well. Shall we start eating?" We all nod, and awkwardly sit there, silently trying to determine who will make a plate for GG, my great grandmother. We all stand up, and immediately find a room with exactly five chairs and no floorspace to be much too small for all of us. My parents quietly slide to one side of the buffet table, and Bami and I slide to the other. I already know that half of this food will be amazing, and half of it will be either terrible, or tastes like a different food from what it is.
Dinner is delicious. GG surprised us with the most delicious cranberry sauce I have ever had, and I made pies that were my best yet. GG complemented my pies, and I was proud, because she pretends to hate everything. She might not even be pretending most of the time.
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