6/29/09 - bucket of mush

We sit in the living room of my parent's house: me, Katie, Dawn, Caitlin, and my folks, all shooting the shit after picking us up at the airport. Most of the furniture has been moved out, and my dad has done a lot of work around the place in hopes that it will sell soon, but so far, no takers.

My sister is talking about dreams, and Dad, in a rare access of self-revelation, is talking about a dream he had frequently as a kid, saying, "It's like a bucket of mush: you'd punch it hard, but the bucket would just suck it in. No matter how hard you pushed, you'd just get sucked in."

12-27-07 Mexican or Mexican't?

On my last day in Arizona, my father asks me what I'd like to eat, and I of course answer Mexican food. As good as the food is in New York, there is nothing like authentic Mexican food in Arizona, and I really want to get a taste of it before I head back to where I: a) have to pay for my own meals, and b) find "Mexican" restaurants are mostly run by Chinese.

My sister orders a combination platter with rice and beans, but she doesn't want her rice, so she offers it to me.

"You don't like Mexican rice?" I ask, "What are you, some kind of rice-ist?"

12-23-07 Mama wants a gun

My mom is thinking about buying a gun, because she's getting older and wants to feel "safe". She and my sister Dawn have a few semi-heated discussions about the matter, with neither really changing their position at all.

Finally, after one of these discussions, my mom says, "Well, I promise not to shoot your father, does that make you feel better?"

"Oh," Dawn says, "you don't have to promise that."