Monday, June 2, 2008

"I'd like to point out three words to you: Lots of pulp." - Dad

I spent a lot of time with my family this weekend. It's good I like them or it would have been difficult.

  • Friday night, my cousin Anne graduated, and I went instead of going to a potential date-getting opportunity. I'm just sayin.' Graduation speakers ought to be shorter. Also, nobody has yet topped the Everybody's free to Wear Sunscreen article. I vote this just gets read at all of 'em.

  • Saturday, we had a barbecue in the rain and Dad grilled steaks, Mom made old favorites, and we celebrated birthdays, graduations, and Mother's Day all at once. The remodel, which is still not finished - 12 months and counting - is almost done and has improved things. The patio's gorgeous, there's room for tons of people, and after cake from Remo's we played whiffleball and badminton in the backyard. And Grandpa recreated the moment Kruschev took his shoe off: "We will bury you!" Exciting stuff.

(For the record, Princess Consuela was the best batter. She hit about 8 of 11 pitches. I think the Mariners should sign her given their current track record. And in badminton, Redman and I beat Floyd and P.J. even though we had the disadvantage of having to watch where we stepped since the neighbor's dog Hercules slips into the back and does his business there. He is called Hercules for good reason -there were several places on the field we avoided by leaping. We still won.)

  • Sunday morning Dad made omelettes like he always does, thankfully without the 18 garlic cloves he likes to put in. He gave us all our omelettes and got some orange juice out of the fridge. He noticed Mom had gotten another carton of o.j. and mentioned he needed to tell us all something. I turned my letters to the editor over, P.J. flipped the sports page, and Mom kept reading the comics.

Dad: "Betsy, did you buy this orange juice?"

Mom: "Yes, I did. It was on sale." (over her shoulder.)

Dad: "I'd like to point out three words: lots of pulp. " ('lots of pulp' is accompanied by finger tapping on each word of the offending container, even though I am the only one facing him to see the finger movements.)

Mom: "Mm-hmm."

Dad: "I hate lots of pulp."

Greta, P.J.: laughing hysterically.

Mom: (laughing.) "Okay, honey."

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