My magical weekend with the folks

So, I tend not to visit my family very often, but this weekend I had to do my familial duty. The husband and I are moving across the country, and this has sparked some unexpected panic in my parents. So, to ease the transition, I spent a few days up in the woods with Ma and Pa.

Highlights:


- I am told we're going somewhere "nice" for dinner. "But I only brought jeans. Is it okay if I wear jeans and a polo shirt?" I say, smelling my polo shirt and hoping it doesn't show that I've worn it twice already without washing it. Mom - "Yeah, you should be fine." Once changed, I enter the living room to find Dad in a Hawaiian shirt, shorts and sandals and Mom in a blue plaid sleeveless collared shirt paired with electric blue shorts and sandals (with socks). This is followed by a discussion of how my parents have become obsessed with the show "What Not to Wear". "I've learned so much from what they say!" Mom says, adjusting her blindingly bright leg wear. Dad -"The people they get on that show are a bunch of jerks" (this is his standard party line - usually he's referring to game show contestants and/or anyone in the cast of Seinfeld). Later, when we get to the "nice place" where we're going to eat dinner, I notice a spider climbing up my water glass, then the hicks behind us get into a heated debate about NASCAR. Needless to say, I felt TOTALLY under-dressed.

- Mom and Dad are separated and hate each other... but live in the same house. This is not the best environment for two short-fused people, especially since their house is tiny and in the middle of nowhere. But the cops haven't yet responded to gunshots at the ol' homestead. Nope, instead of violence, we spend the weekend tiptoeing through a minefield of passive-aggressiveness and barely-suppressed rage. Fun. Try not to pick a side when your parents are shouting back and forth about whether or not Dad had the right turn signal on before that last stoplight. Just try.

- My parents are cheap. They have a water-saving thingie in their shower. This is a problem. My hair is huge and unwieldy and it takes a good amount of water just to get it wet - add cleaning myself, shampooing and conditioning, and you can imagine how long it takes to complete the bathing process. I'm pretty sure my parents think I was masturbating. Can't blame them - I had a very special relationship with the shower massager in my house growing up. Women, purchase one. Seriously. Men, hate to tell you, but if those things had dicks, we wouldn't need you at all.

- Mom and Dad drink all the time. And then drive. Dad likes to point out things and turn to show me as the car weaves into the other lane toward oncoming traffic. Meanwhile, it's raining, he's doing 20 mph above the speed limit and the car smells strongly of Coors Light and leftover Olive Garden.


Quotes:


"Nicholson was way better and he didn't get an Oscar. If the kid didn't make that gay movie then die, he'd just be another Joker."

"What's that guy doing in that mailbox?! That's illegal! We should call someone." (Noteworthy because the gentleman going through the mail was black and my parents wouldn't have been the least bit suspicious at all if it was a white guy)

Mom - "Did I tell you Uncle Steve died?" Me - "No." Mom - "Well, he did."

"Did you know they make sliced Havarti cheese now, Megs? Can you believe it?" and "Remember that smoked Gouda we had? Jiminy Christmas that was good!"



Anyway, I survived and tomorrow I start my drive from New Jersey to California. The first leg is from NJ to DC then through the deep South to Memphis. Wish me luck. I just hope I'll be able to find a Cracker Barrel...