Sunday, March 27, 2005
The Big Res
I am 27 years old and my parents still give me an Easter basket. Fortunately, I am no longer required to scavenge about the lawn for plastic eggs or make milk carton Easter bunnies, but I wouldn't be surprised if these things are merely on hiatus and reemerge when I am 35. We colored eggs, for God's sake. Mine became controversial when I chose a naturalistic brown.
And my parents still display the crafts my sister and I made in second grade. It's interesting, because even then my artwork displayed a compulsive attention to detail, a rigid attachment to following the instructions, and a very traditional conception of the holidays. My sister, meanwhile, drew an electric eel attacking a baby chick and saying "It's time to stun the baby!" Good that she's the one who went into a helping profession.
I'm adding euthanasia to the list of topics not to discuss with my grandma. Well, to be fair, it was already on that list, but I'm underlining it and surrounding it with about six stars. Her winning debate tactic, for all you students out there, was to dwell at length on the potential timing, manner, and duration of her own death. Of course, she can steer a conversation about America's Cutest Puppies in that direction, but this was simply too short a trip. And it didn't help that she kept saying she wished Terri Schiavo would do something about her hair.
It was beautiful outside today, though. I celebrated in grand American fashion by washing the Corolla. Then we walked the dogs and went to the Wal-Mart. Happy Resurrection, Jesus!
I am 27 years old and my parents still give me an Easter basket. Fortunately, I am no longer required to scavenge about the lawn for plastic eggs or make milk carton Easter bunnies, but I wouldn't be surprised if these things are merely on hiatus and reemerge when I am 35. We colored eggs, for God's sake. Mine became controversial when I chose a naturalistic brown.
And my parents still display the crafts my sister and I made in second grade. It's interesting, because even then my artwork displayed a compulsive attention to detail, a rigid attachment to following the instructions, and a very traditional conception of the holidays. My sister, meanwhile, drew an electric eel attacking a baby chick and saying "It's time to stun the baby!" Good that she's the one who went into a helping profession.
I'm adding euthanasia to the list of topics not to discuss with my grandma. Well, to be fair, it was already on that list, but I'm underlining it and surrounding it with about six stars. Her winning debate tactic, for all you students out there, was to dwell at length on the potential timing, manner, and duration of her own death. Of course, she can steer a conversation about America's Cutest Puppies in that direction, but this was simply too short a trip. And it didn't help that she kept saying she wished Terri Schiavo would do something about her hair.
It was beautiful outside today, though. I celebrated in grand American fashion by washing the Corolla. Then we walked the dogs and went to the Wal-Mart. Happy Resurrection, Jesus!
