Archive | July, 2011

Conversations with My Father

31 Jul

The scene: watching one of those CRAZY OUTRAGEOUS CAR CHASE shows with my Dad.

Dad-I can’t believe anyone would be stupid enough to out run the police.

Me-I know. It’s so dangerous! And it’s not like you’re actually going to get away.

Dad-Exactly. Your best bet is to pull over, kill the cop, and drive away. That will give you a good lead time.



Taking Myself Off the Market

29 Jul

This one is for the laaaaaaadies. And I guess, anyone who has ever gone on a date with a redheaded dickfarm who plays clarinet and doesn’t like tattoos EVEN THOUGH I CLEARLY HAVE TATTOOS.

Can’t Go Home Again

28 Jul

The sap of a fig bush is toxic, and if you pluck that fruit without gloves and long sleeves, your arms will erupt and itch.

My grammy had a fig bush in her front yard, by the gardenia tree. (Fact: what you think smells like magnolia is actually gardenia.)

I don’t remember ever picking figs, I guess because it could hurt me. She would pick them, though, and boil them down with sugar. We ate them over pancakes or biscuits or just plain white bread. Then we moved and I didn’t see her anymore (she hated my mother, might still hate her.) And there were no more figs. I guess they don’t grow up here. Now I eat all the fig chutney from cheese plates and ask for more. I don’t think my grammy knows what a cheese plate is.

A few months before I got married, she discovered she had breast cancer. A quick mastectomy. Then she had a stroke and her daughters (twins, fathered by my 70 year old grandfather. She was 30.) put her in a…home? Not her home, with the linoleum in all the rooms and no toaster, ever. But a home.

This fall, my father made the trip back home to say goodbye to his mother. And I said, please bring me some figs. That’s what I want from home.

And he was dutiful, and he did. Two jars, one for me. I gave the other to a close friend, because figs are the kind of food you share.

I put them on a top shelf. I am afraid to eat them, because it’s the last I will have. She was a strange women, at best distant and at worst vicious. But she gave me my sweet father, and for that I am grateful. If I eat those figs, something is over and I’m not ready for it to end.


Lesson No. 1

27 Jul

This is how you eat a peach at your desk without ruining another keyboard.

Things You Should Know About Me

26 Jul

I wrote a sonnet about the fetal pig I had to dissect in Advanced Biology.


Bonus: I took Advanced Biology because there was no math involved. The teacher had previously suffered a nervous breakdown (actually, it happened the year my older sister had him as a teacher) due in large part to his son. His son legally changed his name to Genitalia and that pushed him over the edge, I guess.

Updates in Passive Aggression

25 Jul

I have declared a tentative victory in the Rotten Dog Smell Summit of 2011. Neighbor crumpled my severely funny note and threw it in front of my door (so mindful of my record keeping efforts, neighbor!) and the foyer smelled suspiciously delightful. I take his Febreezing as an admission of guilt, which some cranky and not fun people might point out won’t hold up in court. But I don’t want to go to court. I want what everyone wants: to be right about the good things, and wrong about the bad ones.

And then I was like…

24 Jul

Behold! My awful speech pattern and a mildly funny story about being married.