Cleaning the kitchen while making lunch. Making a note of the fact that my parents and I have progressed in our relationship to the point that when they bring food that I don't eat I'm comfortable telling them I probably won't eat it and they'll insist that I just keep it "for now" and if it's still there when they next come they'll pick it up but won't insist that I try it, and because I always feel bad that they brought it all this way I'll keep it, so now I always have this bag of aging snacks sitting in the bottom shelf of the fridge waiting for pick up. It's "love, as demonstrated by food", episode "how to compromise". It's also a mark of where we are that the sight of a bag of food I won't touch makes me feel all fond inside. A little annoyed still, because that's what family inspires in me, but fond.