Mary goes into their room and tells Lucy, "Let's go!" Annie gave her "pizza money." Annie's cooking burgers for Ruthie, Simon, and friends, so Mary decided to have a sisterly talk with Lucy at the pizza place. Lucy's all paranoid. Mary thanks Lucy for being there to talk to throughout the year. Lucy hugs Mary and says, "I love you!" Mary returns the sentiment but asks her not to make a big deal about it. They decide that they'll talk about boys over their pizza. Ooh. I have indigestion already.
Matt goes into the kitchen (because he smelled the burgers from his apartment?) and tells Annie that Luke's funny. He starts to spill the beans about Hank's Jewishness, but Mary and Lucy yell from the other room that they're leaving. Then Matt breaks the news, but Annie already knew it. Matt asks how she knew. Annie relates that last December, Hank had called to ask Eric "what day Christmas Eve fell on." Then Rabbi Cohen ran into Annie somewhere and congratulated her on "getting a nice Jewish brother-in-law." Matt asks why they never mentioned it. Annie asks why they would. Ruthie and Maryanne run in. Ruthie introduces Matt. "You're very cute," Maryanne tells him. Poor, misguided kid. Matt thanks her. Then Maryanne says, "Too bad about New York . . . they have great meat there!" Matt sniffs around while Annie asks what the deal is with Maryanne's interest in meat. She says her grandmother's boyfriend is a butcher. The girls run off and Annie says, "It's mothballs and grandma stuff," before Matt can ask. Now I'm really confused about the meat. What the hell is so funny about it?
Over at the church, RevCam leads a heart-to-heart between Lisa and her mom. I'm not even going to describe it. I'll just give you the toll-free number at the end, okay? Suffice it to say that RevCam compresses months of therapeutic revelations into a single, four-minute session and saves the day yet again.
Okay. Call 1-800-656-HOPE or go to the RAINN site to speak to a counselor about sexual assault.
What did we learn this week? That's right. Communicate, communicate, communicate! So sayeth the Camdens, so shall it be done.