Dad fights mom for starring role.

12/28/2009

Filed under: Embarassing Behavior, parents — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , — Angela @ 9:53 am Last modified: December 31, 2009 

As soon as I arrive home, I realize dad is trying to outshine mom on the blog. It seems he can’t stand that she’s coined herself the “wallflower” who doesn’t want any attention and manages to surpass any mention of him on themplusme.

Tired of his supporting role in each story, he decides to take an active role in paving his road to fame. I notice his behavior borders on maniac obsessive with huge theatrical displays and ridiculous stories as illustrated by the following incidents.

1) His extreme obsession with the storm and his ability to predict its unfolding

2) His claim at family dinner that he would be the perfect ringleader for hell’s angels (even though he doesn’t ride).

3) His over-dramatized helplessness at how to sign out of my gmail account so he could access his.

4) After mom tells me not to dig in the fridge he spots me lifting a water and races up the stairs to tattle on me. When he succeeds in working mom into a tizzy he smiles deviously and begins dancing in the kitchen.

When none of these attempts seem to have sparked me enough to form a story around them, he comes up with one last desperate attempt. The day after Christmas the relatives meet at the movie Sherlock Holmes in Duluth. Mom, dad, and myself are the first to arrive to a nearly vacant theater.

I’m busy texting when mom jabs me in the side and points to the front of the theater where dad is dancing a most obnoxious little jig. I groan in amusement. He notices he’s grabbed my attention, stops his outlandish performance and stalks out of the theater.

As soon as he exits I receive the following text….

“I’ll wait until more people come in, then i’ll come back to perform.”

Mom and I roar with laughter. “Well, let’s see if all his bragging pans out!” mom says.

A short while later the theater has filled up considerably and I noticed him try to slither undetected across the front. I jump to my feet and shout, “C’mon” while sweeping my arms out in front of me in an attempt to conduct his “supposed performance.” He shakes his head and mom cackles in triumph, “I knew he wouldn’t follow through!”

I hardly see his failed performance as deserving of a story, but I decide to temporarily sponsor his ego and publish, “Dad fights mom for starring role.”

The Storm of the Century

12/24/2009

Filed under: parents, random adventures — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , — Angela @ 11:26 am Last modified: December 27, 2009 

For the past week, weather forecasters throughout the northern midwest have been predicting a monster winter storm for Christmas Eve and day.  They say it is reminiscent of the infamous Halloween Blizzard of 1991.  My dad, who prides himself on mastering the feel of the winds, has also made a weather prediction.

Sitting at the kitchen table gobbling up forkfuls of pizza he tells me about the impending storm, “I went down to the lake and I know-this one is going to be fierce!” he says shaking his fork in my face for emphasis.  “I felt it in the wind,” he says his eyes bulging out of their sockets .

Mom giggles in the kitchen, “he can feel it in his bones!”

Dad seems bound and determined to prove his powers. 

“I know!” he shouts in desperation, “I was in the Edmund Fitzgerald storm!”

Mom convulses with laughter, “I thought you were going to say you were the sole survivor!”

“I was the sole survivor!” dad shouts and mom’s laughter turns to cries. “I almost froze to death!”

“I was getting a ride home and the storm was so bad they couldn’t take me all the way so they dropped me off on the side of the road.  I was wearing cowboy boots and trying to fight the wind. I kept falling in the drifts.  I almost gave up. ”

I hardly see how this near-death experience elevated him to master meteorologist, but I humor him just the same.

Mom & Dad adopt texting

12/16/2009

Filed under: parents — Angela @ 6:32 pm Last modified: December 16, 2009 

About a year ago, dad calls me to see if I’d received the picture text he’d sent of my sister. “Are you learning how to text?”  I ask.  “Yeah… well, I’ve been doing a lot of it.” he says matter-of -factly. “You have, have you?” I retort in amusement.

“Ya at poker night and stuff…” he pauses thoughtfully, ” I should probably get on a plan. Mom gets the bill and it’s $1.10 extra and she makes me pay her for it!” Of course I find this absolutely hilarious because mom probably would make him pay for texting.

Earlier this year, mom finally adds more than four contacts to her cell phone and decides, she too, should learn how to text.  Her text messages far surpass dad’s one word responses.  She even boasts her ability to use Tword.

A few months ago, I go on Facebook and notice I have a friend request from mom.  I immediately phone her to find out why she joined Facebook.  “Angela!”  she gasps in feigned surprise, “Don’t you know Facebook is the next logical step after texting?”

Well of course it is, how could I be so naive.

Pick up After your Pooch.

12/08/2009

Filed under: Embarassing Behavior, parents — Angela @ 10:46 pm Last modified: December 9, 2009 

Mom doesn’t like people who don’t pick up after their dogs. In fact, it infuriates her. A few summers ago, my friend Michelle took Ancha for a walk and mom loads her up with treats, poop bags, and napkins to wipe off her drool.

“She’s a Bernese Mountain Dog, in case they ask, and they WILL ask,” she states confidently.

“Now… where are you taking her?” she demands, “Down by the lake? Because it is really hot out and she can’t be outside too long!”
Ancha Bear

A few weeks later, when my sister Kristina has her grad pictures done, we take Ancha with and she makes the unfortunate mistake of pooping in their yard. Mom decides the only solution is to pick it up and bring it along in the van. “Why don’t you just ask them if they have a garbage?” I demand. She brushes off my comment, “We’ll find one.”

We stop to eat at a little mexican place in Duluth and she decides this is the perfect place to rid ourselves of the unsightly mess. She tries to put it in the dumpster, but after several minutes of unsuccessfully yanking on the cover, she sets it in a little cardboard dish on the ground outside the van, “just until we get done eating,” she explains.

I run ahead-completely mortified. I look over my shoulder, and to my horror, spot her scooping up the little bag and setting it back in the car. When we get to Best Buy she hands it to me for disposal. “Why don’t you put this in that garbage,” she suggests. I wonder why I ever allow myself to be seen with her in public.

Last week, we revisit her pet peeve when she tells me of the neighbor lady who walks her dog down the block to take a poop on the city boulevard. “One day I was walking Ancha and I see that lady letting her dog poop on the grass and I march up to her and asked her if she needs a bag.” I laugh, “What did she say?” I ask. “No,” she says her voice raising, “you don’t?” she gasps in astonishment. She breaths out a sigh, “that makes me so mad!” she says.

Elf Yourself!

12/03/2009

Filed under: parents, random adventures — Angela @ 5:19 pm Last modified: December 4, 2009