They are better with the Internet at hand. Having the same principle as the Guinness Book of World Records, it's made to settle disputes and to leave everyone just a bit more informed, even if for a second.
Tonight we learned that Snow White was from 1937 (I'm going to use memory and not the Internet to present these facts, so do not consider them reliable).
We learned the name of the composer of the "I've got no strings" song in Pinocchio (Leigh Harline) but that it's difficult to trace (with the Internet) the historical development of the adaptation of its 1940 melody to the 1955 "I'm getting nothing for Christmas" one. It may be even earlier.
I suppose my role is that of family fact-checker. I'm not the most stellar of hosts. Sure, all is clean and newly-rugged, the food is of high quality if B- quality (some dishes earn A+, a few are in C range, hence …), and the company I offer is stressed but trying to be non-vapid and all-sweet. Mostly engaged.
Groups are hard when all parties are of equal intimacy.
We also learned a few things from randomly-read Trivial Pursuit cards. Recalling no facts as of this point. Oh, and regular soy milk and 2% cow's are about the same in calories and fat.
And I want to be more, better, different.
Went to the Benton home and learned that our house's windows are not as bad as I thought, that even a state historical site (the smallest in Missouri) can have painted woodwork (argh), and that Benton made wax maquettes for his murals (perhaps other paintings).
I'm getting that nauseous pre-regret. I think it's love, but I don't like how it settles in my stomach like so many of my stronger emotions and agitates until some kind of chemical release is achieved. By that, I mean nothing ingested, smoked, injected, applied, but more along the serotonin line.