Family Fuel
"Oh. They must have cooked the farts out of them."
- Papa, upon seeing the refried beans on my Mexican platter, after learning that it was an entree and not, in fact, animal waste.
I love having my grandparents come to visit, now more than ever. Since I was about five and learned that not everyone has grandparents who are still alive, I've done my best to appreciate every second I'm able to spend with them. Mema is awesome--she plays the loving housewife for Papa, but should Papa ever take that for granted, the threats she comes up with keep me laughing for days. And Papa is the quintessential man's man--he's able to fix anything from plumbing to cell phone chargers in mere minutes, has a tool shed that the Catholic church envies, and puts taking care of family first and foremost before anything. I've been putting off washing dishes for WEEKS now, and Mema had them done in an hour, while Papa checked out Jenny (my Explorer) and made sure he didn't need to replace anything under the hood. They willingly went with me to what was possibly the first Mexican dining experience they've ever had. At first Papa was disappointed at the lack of sandwiches on the menu, but after trying the burritos, enchiladas, and brown rice (though not the refried beans), he made the aforementioned comment and declared the meal "alright," which is high praise indeed. That's another of Papa's strengths of character--he doesn't exaggerate. He says what he means. He does "get tickled" (Southern idiom for being greatly amused) at a good joke, but when he's serious, there is no room for miscommunication.
Papa, Mema and I see eye-to-eye on more than a few things. Caitlin and I living together before we're married, for instance, is MORE than alright in their book, as it would save money and better prepare us for full couplehood. They don't mind the occasional drink, and Mema has even fermented her own wine before (though I have yet to sample it myself). I can definitely talk to them about things that wouldn't go over well with other people, and they are two of the most supportive people I know.
All this is probably why it scared me a little bit a few weeks ago when Papa muttered, almost too quietly to hear, "It's going to be a long winter this year." Normally I'd take this to be a weather comment, but as he's been in and out of the hospital over the past few years, I thought maybe he meant something more. I told him straightaway that if he or Mema gets to feeling the least bit bad, he had to promise to CALL ME and I'd arrange to have them stay up in DC with me. It's a bit colder up there, but insofar as things go for them, it would be much better to have family around when they aren't feeling well. Taking care of family is just as important to their grandson as it is to them, and I will be damned if I let them get to feeling bad by themselves (especially since they jumped in the car and sped up here when they heard I was having my wisdom teeth removed by myself. THAT was a bit of a surprise--drugged up, lost some blood, and I come home to two family members who were three hours away, as far as I knew).
It all kinda goes bad to what started this entry. I've grown so used to having my grandparents around, I can't even fathom the thought of losing them. I hope more than I've ever hoped for anything that that day remains far, far in the future.
So. I finally got to see the infamous JW again this past weekend, and the entire hour of conversation (the boy was bizzah bizzah bizzah with interviews) felt like a fever. There was a constant buzz of surrealness in my ears as I attempted to make a sixteen-year leap in conversation. Josh is almost nothing like I remember him--EVERYTHING about him has grown up (though granted, he was very mature for his age back in the day). It's incredible how aligned our interests have remained over the lapse, but then, that's probably what made us friends to begin with. He's doing well, and had several interesting experiences since our last rendez-vous (Pizza Villa, if I remember correctly, circa 1994). Cross your fingers for him, as his job interview results should be forthcoming in the next couple of weeks.
"Unlimited juice? This party is going to be off the hook." Carolyn tha Fox has a little shin-dig lined up for us tomorrow night, and Saturday night I'm gonna try to hit up "Closer" to see Bill the Butcher's handiwork. (My single gentlemen friends, there will be actual strippers in attendance at said show. Consider yourselves tipped off, and if you make the show, possibly topped off.)
"Oh, nothing, Tommy. It's tip-top. 'sjust I'm not sure about the color."
Ah, a Thursday before a three-day weekend. What bliss. Think it's about time I sampled it, so peace and love, homies. Josh has left the building.
- Papa, upon seeing the refried beans on my Mexican platter, after learning that it was an entree and not, in fact, animal waste.
I love having my grandparents come to visit, now more than ever. Since I was about five and learned that not everyone has grandparents who are still alive, I've done my best to appreciate every second I'm able to spend with them. Mema is awesome--she plays the loving housewife for Papa, but should Papa ever take that for granted, the threats she comes up with keep me laughing for days. And Papa is the quintessential man's man--he's able to fix anything from plumbing to cell phone chargers in mere minutes, has a tool shed that the Catholic church envies, and puts taking care of family first and foremost before anything. I've been putting off washing dishes for WEEKS now, and Mema had them done in an hour, while Papa checked out Jenny (my Explorer) and made sure he didn't need to replace anything under the hood. They willingly went with me to what was possibly the first Mexican dining experience they've ever had. At first Papa was disappointed at the lack of sandwiches on the menu, but after trying the burritos, enchiladas, and brown rice (though not the refried beans), he made the aforementioned comment and declared the meal "alright," which is high praise indeed. That's another of Papa's strengths of character--he doesn't exaggerate. He says what he means. He does "get tickled" (Southern idiom for being greatly amused) at a good joke, but when he's serious, there is no room for miscommunication.
Papa, Mema and I see eye-to-eye on more than a few things. Caitlin and I living together before we're married, for instance, is MORE than alright in their book, as it would save money and better prepare us for full couplehood. They don't mind the occasional drink, and Mema has even fermented her own wine before (though I have yet to sample it myself). I can definitely talk to them about things that wouldn't go over well with other people, and they are two of the most supportive people I know.
All this is probably why it scared me a little bit a few weeks ago when Papa muttered, almost too quietly to hear, "It's going to be a long winter this year." Normally I'd take this to be a weather comment, but as he's been in and out of the hospital over the past few years, I thought maybe he meant something more. I told him straightaway that if he or Mema gets to feeling the least bit bad, he had to promise to CALL ME and I'd arrange to have them stay up in DC with me. It's a bit colder up there, but insofar as things go for them, it would be much better to have family around when they aren't feeling well. Taking care of family is just as important to their grandson as it is to them, and I will be damned if I let them get to feeling bad by themselves (especially since they jumped in the car and sped up here when they heard I was having my wisdom teeth removed by myself. THAT was a bit of a surprise--drugged up, lost some blood, and I come home to two family members who were three hours away, as far as I knew).
It all kinda goes bad to what started this entry. I've grown so used to having my grandparents around, I can't even fathom the thought of losing them. I hope more than I've ever hoped for anything that that day remains far, far in the future.
So. I finally got to see the infamous JW again this past weekend, and the entire hour of conversation (the boy was bizzah bizzah bizzah with interviews) felt like a fever. There was a constant buzz of surrealness in my ears as I attempted to make a sixteen-year leap in conversation. Josh is almost nothing like I remember him--EVERYTHING about him has grown up (though granted, he was very mature for his age back in the day). It's incredible how aligned our interests have remained over the lapse, but then, that's probably what made us friends to begin with. He's doing well, and had several interesting experiences since our last rendez-vous (Pizza Villa, if I remember correctly, circa 1994). Cross your fingers for him, as his job interview results should be forthcoming in the next couple of weeks.
"Unlimited juice? This party is going to be off the hook." Carolyn tha Fox has a little shin-dig lined up for us tomorrow night, and Saturday night I'm gonna try to hit up "Closer" to see Bill the Butcher's handiwork. (My single gentlemen friends, there will be actual strippers in attendance at said show. Consider yourselves tipped off, and if you make the show, possibly topped off.)
"Oh, nothing, Tommy. It's tip-top. 'sjust I'm not sure about the color."
Ah, a Thursday before a three-day weekend. What bliss. Think it's about time I sampled it, so peace and love, homies. Josh has left the building.