My Minneapolis Summer: If I Bring Booze, Can I Drool on Your Couch?

Nothing screams “America” more than pyromania, hot dogs, and heatwaves on the 4th of July. It’s one of my favorite holidays simply because everyone is just so flipping happy! People get the day of work, they eat carbs and processed meat that otherwise would never touch their digestive system, and in many cases, there’s cake involved. I’m a big proponent of any  holiday involving cake.

 

I spent the first 19 4th of Julys with my parentals, being taunted with sparklers by my brothers and watching million-dollar firework shows over Bay Harbor (the fine people of Boyne City don’t have any money to pay their mortgages, but dammit, they won’t let a crappy economy get in the way of their fireworks!). Last year, I spent the 4th in Rome, where nobody cared that it was America’s Birthday, except maybe the British foreign exchange students, who likely were still a little bitter about how they lost an entire continent in the Civil War. Hold a grudge much, Brits?

 

This year, I’ll be saving $300 by refusing my parent’s invitation home and instead spending the holiday with my boyfriend and his family in Chicago. Chicago, if you aren’t aware, is where I intend to move when I’m older. Rational? I won’t have to drive (those who have seen my driving skills will agree this is a perk for everyone in America), the shopping is intense, and there are pancake places and cupcake joints all over the place. Shopping, cupcakes, and pancakes. Is this Chicago or is this Heaven?

 

Of course, the downside to Chicago is that it’s a little pricey for a girl clocking 40 hours a week doing, for lack of a better term, “bitch work.” As a result, my boyfriend’s brother and sister-in-law are much too nice and invite us to sleep at their apartment in the City, curling up on their couch and basically infringing on what little personal space one gets in a one bedroom apartment in a major metropolitan area.

 

Because I recognize that sharing a cubicle sized apartment with two 21 year olds isn’t exactly anyone’s idea of a great time, I try to lessen the burden by always bringing gifts. I’m ridiculously thoughtful. I start thinking of gifts weeks ahead of time. I would be emberassed if anyone truly knew how much time I put into any gift I give. It would probably be borderline creepy if I didn’t always pull through.

 

So, of course, the big question is: What do you bring two people who are letting you curl up on their outrageously comfortable couch for three nights, and who are also in charge of entertaining your boyfriend’s parents, his other brother and sister in law, and you? Because frankly, that sounds pretty awful to handle for an entire holiday weekend and I’m not sure there’s a gift out there that could soften that blow.

 

I went through my sure-fire gifts first: University of Minnesota shirts, Twins shirts, pictures, treats from Minnesota’s famous shops, perhaps a cheese wheel from Wisconsin? For one reason or another, though, none of these gifts were really striking my fancy. I wasn’t sure exactly what I was looking for, but these were not it.

 

So I put myself in their shoes. If my grandparents were coming to visit and bring their other kids, what would my Mom want? What would make her day a little better?

 

The answer was obvious: wine and chocolate.

 

The big events in life seem to use wine and sugar to keep everyone on their best behavior: weddings,graduations, funerals. Family holidays do too. So, I’ve decided to bring a bottle of white wine (to seem classy), a miniture bottle of tequila (for when the headache sets in), and a freshly baked batch of chocolate chip cookies (because sometimes emotional eating is the only way to go).

 

Someday, when I finally move to Chicago and have enough money to fly an airline that’s not Southwest, I hope to repay their extremely generous hospitality. But, they’re so nice and wonderful, I won’t even need a bottle of wine to soften the blow. Which is good, because I prefer boxed wine anyways. I’m nothing if not classy, after all.