Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Dialogues of the Quincyites
The interesting thing about being at my parents' house (and by interesting, I mean frightening) is that nothing there is ever a small deal. For instance, where for most people running out of milk would be a minor annoyance soon remedied through a trip to the grocery store, for us it is a Tennessee Williams play.
Me: We're out of milk.
Mother: That can't be right. I just got milk. John, did you drink all the milk?
Father: I don't drink milk.
Mother: Well, someone drank it all. I just bought it.
Me: Oh, it's no big deal, I'll just pick some up later.
Mother: Oh sure, it's no big deal to you, because you already got milk. Your sister's going to want milk. John, we should go to the store. Let's go to the store.
Father: I just put the car in the garage. I don't want to have to move it again. Why do we need milk? Can't she just have juice?
Mother: She's going to want milk. She needs milk. Calcium is important. She'll get Osteoporosis.
Me: Mom, she's 28.
Mother: It's never too soon.
Deciding what to eat for Christmas dinner, meanwhile, is like choosing which child will live and which will die.
Father: Your mother and I were going to get some mini sirloins for Christmas dinner, if that's all right.
Mother: We thought it would be fun.
Me: Sure, that's fine, I'm fine with whatever.
Father: If you don't like it we don't have to do it. We can do anything you want. We can go out if you want. We could go out for Mexican.
Mother: But we thought mini sirloins would be fun. And scalloped potatoes.
Me: That sounds great, sure.
Father: If you don't want it, you can just say so. We could get a ham. Do you want a ham?
Mother: We just thought it would be fun.
Me: No problems here. Sounds good.
Mother: Do you think it will be fun?
Ah, the sounds of the holidays.
The interesting thing about being at my parents' house (and by interesting, I mean frightening) is that nothing there is ever a small deal. For instance, where for most people running out of milk would be a minor annoyance soon remedied through a trip to the grocery store, for us it is a Tennessee Williams play.
Me: We're out of milk.
Mother: That can't be right. I just got milk. John, did you drink all the milk?
Father: I don't drink milk.
Mother: Well, someone drank it all. I just bought it.
Me: Oh, it's no big deal, I'll just pick some up later.
Mother: Oh sure, it's no big deal to you, because you already got milk. Your sister's going to want milk. John, we should go to the store. Let's go to the store.
Father: I just put the car in the garage. I don't want to have to move it again. Why do we need milk? Can't she just have juice?
Mother: She's going to want milk. She needs milk. Calcium is important. She'll get Osteoporosis.
Me: Mom, she's 28.
Mother: It's never too soon.
Deciding what to eat for Christmas dinner, meanwhile, is like choosing which child will live and which will die.
Father: Your mother and I were going to get some mini sirloins for Christmas dinner, if that's all right.
Mother: We thought it would be fun.
Me: Sure, that's fine, I'm fine with whatever.
Father: If you don't like it we don't have to do it. We can do anything you want. We can go out if you want. We could go out for Mexican.
Mother: But we thought mini sirloins would be fun. And scalloped potatoes.
Me: That sounds great, sure.
Father: If you don't want it, you can just say so. We could get a ham. Do you want a ham?
Mother: We just thought it would be fun.
Me: No problems here. Sounds good.
Mother: Do you think it will be fun?
Ah, the sounds of the holidays.
