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My mother slams games the door with a dramatic physicality that is usually reserved for professional mimes. We are all finally configured around two long, rectangular tables. We sit in games parallel lines. This seems like a good policy to me; who knows what havoc perpendicularity could wreak. We just barely fit in games this room; once the last person sits down, no one can get out unless we all move. Although, at my mother's suggestion ("Hey, you two boys, this is the Thanksgiving table, NOT the school cafeteria! Jean, are you going to do something about this? I will not have my Thanksgiving dinner ruined by a couple of disrespectful kids"), we do change some seating arrangements. I sit across from my husband, Brian, and between my mother and Jason.
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