Nice to meet you. I hear that we're related.

In my hometown, everyone else was related and I was the kid with the German mother.

At U-M, I have to be careful, because there's a chance I might be related to that cute guy over in the corner. Seriously, when you discover six months into your freshman year that you have a cousin living one floor away from you in a building that's not that big, you start to be cautious. Anything you say or do may be used against you over Thanksgiving dinner.

So tonight was a meeting of family connected by my great-grandfather. He had two sisters who managed to make it out of Europe, and somehow we're all related in some way. Let's just say this was the first time that name tags were necessary at a family event, but not the first time that a very confusing family tree tried to be constructed (I believe the last time I ended up laying on the floor in the middle of a very heated conversation re: family history with a notebook in front of me and a pillow over my head).

"Your mother and my grandfather's father were siblings. So that makes us.... um.... family?" (Actually I think that it's 3rd cousins 3 times removed, but hell if I know, the "removeds" always get me.)

Lots of confusing conversation, and loud conversation, and is-this-monologue-ever-going-to-end conversation. Oh and food. Meat, squash, potatoes, salad, apple crisp and toffee bars for 20 people. You know, just something we threw together.

Pictures were passed around. A letter my namesake wrote was shared. Lively discussions over the legend of the family name's spelling were initiated. And continued. And repeated. And repeated. Ah family.

In the end, it was nice to meet them, and apparently the guy who owns Big Ten Burrito is (let me see if I get this right) the cousin of my grandfather's father's sister's daughter's daughter in law. Somehow I don't think that will count for family discounts.

A short week, a long weekend, and then the treadmill of time kicks into over drive until the end of December. Goooo team!