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"Mmm....dolmas", those grape leaves stuffed with rice and spices, packed with olive oil in a tin can. You know my fetish for metal? I was shopping with my dad and my gut was growling at me to fill it, but it was disconnected from my appetite. The only things I crave tastes salty, usually savoury, so the dolmas/dolmades/fat green thumbs became my target. My dad and I drove home from the Superstore and I already had the tin cracked open to fish one out. "Want one?" tempting him as I held it near his face. He wrinkled his nose at it like I were holding out a dead mouse at him. "I don't eat what I don't know". This from the same man who boils soup with pig's feet sticking out, hooves to the ceiling and faint squealing from the pot. Our empty house greated us, groceries were put away, when my dad asked, "Why did you drink all of the ginger beer?" My only sensible answer was, "Because I love it that much!" Picture me reaching out my arms as I say this, like a hammy Shakespearean Actor, and picture the humor going right over my dad's head. He'd bought 4-2L of the stuff on Saturday: I killed off the last one yesterday. If you've ever had Jamaican-style ginger beer, you've either snubbed ginger ale out of respect, or tossed it like a banana peel. I no longer acknowledge ginger ale, for it is a feeble drink, coming from someone who's not a major connoisseur of alcohol, so I'm pretty much a wimp myself. While attempting to add an entry here and finding it to be busy, my mom comes home from Wal-Mart, carrying the comtempt of customers and stress of the service industry with her, then venting upon my dad whenever he gets mischievous by antagonising her: I don't think she loves him anymore. His absent-mindedness doesn't humor her like it humors me sometimes. Yeah, answering the same question over and over and over again about what day of the week it is, does become unfunny after awhile, but my mom finds it annoying. I swear, someday we'll be on the news, and I'll be saying, "I never knew she'd plunge that knife so many times officer. I didn't know we had that one. Must've been hidden somewhere. Hope the hospital takes good care of her, and I don't want to see any scars or electrocution marks anywhere on her head, okay?" My mom's a wonderful woman, and her friends have often said this to me. Nobody has ever said a bad thing about her, but my dad will unleash Satan himself from her subconscious one evening during supper, and the movie-of-the-week will star Danny Glover as my dad, Isabelle "Weezie" Sanford as my mom, and I'll be interviewed by Barbara Walters afterwards. Sorry, my imagination ran away from me for a moment. While Soaking in Lavendar... - Saturday, Apr. 06, 2019 He Reminded Me of An Incident Years Ago - Monday, Feb. 04, 2019 My Rose-Coloured Glasses are Smashed & I Don’t Want Them Anymore - Sunday, Feb. 03, 2019 It’s Been Awhile - Saturday, Feb. 02, 2019 I Never Needed You. - Thursday, Nov. 27, 2014
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