Day 34: Never Have I Ever... Actually Hated The Truth Table

Never have I ever actually hated the truth table, even though I've insisted at every single 4th of July that I did. But I'll explain more tomorrow. Too much fun eating too many cocktail weenies, catching up with family, watching tank wars, handing out sparklers to all the kids, oohing and aahing over the fireworks, roasting marshmallows and telling stories around the fire pit, and skinny dipping. I love being home.
Happy 4th of July everyone.

Edit: It was 2:30 a.m. when I finally went to bed yesterday after an absolutely fantastic holiday at home. The weather could not have been more perfect, the company was great, and it was just plain good to be home. So I postponed writing this post until today.

In true Ray family tradition, the impromptu truth table turned up again this year. The truth table was accidentally created a few years ago among myself, my cousins Emma and Breanne, my aunts Liza and Kathy and my Uncle David, and has since appeared at the 4th of July every year.

The six of us were sitting and talking around the six-seated, circular table on my parents' back porch when a few touchy, juicy topics came up and the more senior members of the family started goading the younger generation to tell them the "real" story, which we did. And, apparently we had to tell the truth because someone started yelling "Truth table! Truth table!" and the truth came out.

The same concept has cropped up every year since then whenever someone has said "truth table." Although I pretend I hate it and always say something along the lines of "How did we get to this topic and why are we still talking about it?!?! (referring to sex, embarrassing stories from childhood, etc.) I not-so-secretly love being able to be so open with my extended family.

This year's topic revolved around drinking in college because my Aunt Liza's youngest son, Nate, is headed to Central Michigan University in the fall. Emma recently graduated from the party school, so my Aunt Liza (who did not attend college) wanted to know "the real story" about college kids and drinking, and could not believe some of the stories we were telling her (which, in the grand scheme of things, were "normal" stories about underage drinking in college at parties).

This somehow led to the names of sexual acts (yes, the Generation X- and Y-ers had to explain to some of our Baby Boomer aunts and uncles about tea bagging, dingle berries, a dirty Sanchez, and the superman dance); what middle schoolers are advertising with bracelets these days (what sexual acts they're willing to do); and what my mom thinks happens at teen parties (all the girls put on different shades of lipstick and give the boys oral sex, apparently).

It was a little embarrassing seeing the reaction of my aunts and uncles as we explained that yes there is a name for those stray balls of poop that are missed with toilet paper, but actually pretty dang hilarious at the same time.

This closeness is something I cherish in my family, have fought like hell to keep through the years, and will continue to do so as long as I'm breathing. It's too important to just let it go.