Lifeless after nine

It's 8 p.m. in the middle of summer, and the sun begins to descend from the scene.
While most Findlay families have had a leisurely meal, the young kids are showered and reading a delightful book in bed while the parents are snuggling together on the couch by now....the Larmore family is still struggling to sit down and eat a darn meal before it's time for bed. We just didn't get to it; mom was working on her newest piece of jewelry and doing laundry, dad was mowing the lawn and washing the car and the younger sisters are out and about sucking up every moment before school starts. Dinner is never a set time...in fact, nothing happens at a set time around here.
OH, the joys and sorrows of living in a small town with a family that belongs in a place like Brazil; time is always subjective, parties are unorganized and when we say "come over at 7," we won't be eating till 9.
Mom and Dad (well more like Mom, really) say we're "European," that we follow foreign customs as a joke, but I say we're just distracted and sometimes far too social. I mean, they know how to throw one heck of a family party, professional entertainers at heart. But everything is so complicated, so elaborate...contributing to serious delays. They get out their fancy wine glasses with the cute lil wine charms, the labored-over appetizers sit gleaming on table and my dad is going on and on with the men about this and that fancy attachment on his sweet grill.
Don't get me wrong, though; the culture in this small Ohio town isn't quite my cup of tea, either. Let's say you're laying flat on your chair at the neighborhood pool; the music is blaring, the kids are screaming, the water works are flying as the kids weave in and out of the sprays with delight.....but when 5 rolls around, the crowd lifts and the waterside is as vacant as a grazed-over field. You look up from your chair, and you've got the place to yourself. It's no longer "happening" at Lakeview pool because the families had to make their prompt dinner hour. We don't want to turn into pumpkins, now. When the clock strikes 5, it's feeding time.
...Which brings me to my next point. After our usual conclusion of the family meal around...I don't know...I guess it was 8:45 or so? Dad decided we were going to partake in a family custom they seem to have started while I was off studying hundreds of miles away: late-night Dairy Queen. We drive all the way downtown- a good 15 minutes, which in Findlay time is quite a distance. And mind you, it's summertime. But as we drive around the corner, the local DQ decided it's lights out. Did they close early?" I could have sworn those closed at 1o in the summer," my sis piped up. We try Dietz's, the better choice anyway for its local homemade cream. As we coast down mainstreet at nine in the evening, the dead and lifeless town illuminated only by old fashioned street lights, a family accustomed to the big city Charlotte life laughs at the "down-homeness" of this place. Everyone's sleeping? Only in Findlay, we think. But really, it's just how small towns are. But for a group of people so opinionated, loud and "all over the place," it just doesn't seem to work sometimes.
My family is one of the most unorganized I know...but in the end, I wouldn't have it any other way. It's why I've learned not to take things so seriously, why I don't freak out when everything doesn't go just perfectly my way. If a glass breaks, it can be replaced. If something like red wine spills on the carpet, there's no way to go back in time and fix it. They're just possessions, and we're never going to miss them once we're gone.
I'll never be one of those moms who gets the meal on the table at a prompt 5:30 with quiet, perfectly obedient children, but they'll certainly know they're loved and certainly get the best nutrition I can provide them.
But the most ironic part? There's a big "simplify" sign in our kitchen! We're not simple people, but we certainly enjoy ourselves in the end.....just "go with the flow," people. GO WITH THE FLOW.