If the Van's a-Rockin'
The wife and I recently headed down to my parents' place for a visit. We were supposed to visit over Thanksgiving, but that got derailed. My parents have a pretty big driveway, but I soon saw we would be unable to park next to the house. Some piece of shit van was in one of the two parking spots under the car port.
Given that my parents live in what I would call a pretty shitty neighborhood (you know, people with non-running cars parked in their driveways for years at a time), I much prefer parking away from the street. After asking some questions it turns out that the van belongs to a cousin from my dad's "Mormon" side of the family, though the van owner is her Samoan husband. They had asked to park there for "a little while" and then left the state. Apparently that was four or five months ago. The frustrating thing is they had finally gotten rid of my oldest brother's non-running car that had been parked there a couple of years.
We gave them their late Christmas presents, I upgraded their anti-virus software, looked at some of my mom's paintings (which are our birthday / anniversary / Christmas / whatever presents), and headed to Jim's for a later dinner (I was inexplicably craving cream gravy).
During the dinner we talked about my dad's very very minor mini-stroke he had a few months ago. The night of his stroke he was having trouble speaking. My mom tried to get him to the hospital but he chose to try and sleep it off first. Yes, my stubbornness may be genetic. He finally went to the hospital the next day and got some blood thinners and tests and found out that it was most likely a result of has carotid artery being 95% clogged. A few weeks later he got that cleaned out and seems to have mostly recovered (he still has to search for the occasional word).
A few weeks after that my parents were in a car wreck and totaled their car. My dad was driving and it was ruled that he was at fault. I don't think it had anything to do with the stroke as I know the area in which the wreck happened as well as how bad of a driver he was before the stroke. It's a nasty little side street that turns onto a major road with very bad visibility and a plethora of drivers with a penchant for speeding. Regardless, the car was totaled and they earned a trip to the hospital in an ambulance. They're fine except for being pretty sore even a month after the accident.
The next day we headed to a Chinese food buffet named "Chopsticks." On top of all of the other shit they've got going on, my dad recently found out he's "got the diabetes." It's relatively minor, requiring him to take one pill a day and to keep an eye on his blood sugar. My wife's uncle (with the dead wife and cerebral palsy son) and grandmother (who lives in the same house as the uncle) are both diabetic. Before the lady of the house died she was kept constantly busy making sure the two of them didn't sneak high sugar treats while she wasn't looking. Kindly enough, someone gave the grandmother a Whitman's sampler for Christmas. I digress. This led me to state that you need to "keep an eye on those diabetics. They're sneaky." My dad apparently took some level of offense at my remark against his new people and said, "Yeah, well I hope you get the diabetes! You know, your brother has it?" The wife and I couldn't stop laughing at the sheer awesomeness of this remark.
Lisa then started talking about how fortune cookies no longer seem to contain fortunes. They're just random sayings. I asked but, "Man with hole in pants feel cocky all day," apparently isn't one of these new sayings. I opened my fortune cookie and told her it actually had a bona fide fortune in it. It said, "You're going to get the diabetes." My dad didn't seem amused.
We finished lunch and headed back to the house. During the drive home it was raining and my dad was all over the road (as usual). After almost hitting someone he said, "There are some crazy drivers around these parts." I couldn't help but turn to the wife and say, "Yeah, and we're riding with one of them." After hanging out at the house and playing some PS2 with the parents we headed back out for dinner. We decided that some third-rate barbecue might hit the spot so we headed toward Bill Miller's. During the drive we headed down a road that has been shitty since I was a kid and continues to be shitty today. My mom then launched into a story.
Mom: Oh sure, just like that city official said, if we get annexed into the city everything will get better.
Me: Huh?
Mom: This little shit acted like we'd get better emergency services–
Dad: And roads. He said roads.
Mom: –and roads if we got annexed. How do you like our new road?
Me: I thought you were already part of the city.
Dad: We are. This was a little while back.
Me: Wait. We were part of the city when I was growing up.
Mom: Yes. No, this was a while back.
Me: Like, what, 20 years?
Dad: Oh, no…this was probably about 38 years ago.
Me: Ah. A little while ago. Gotcha…
We finally got to Bill Miller's and ordered our food. They're regulars there so the manager came by and greeted them. After he left my dad assured me that, "He's a good manager. He's Mexican, but he's a good manager." These remarks typically make me uncomfortable, but never more so than before I've gotten my food…
Finally, we headed back to Austin late Saturday night because of the impending ice storm. We made it home a few hours before everything started to freeze solid.
By the way, the painting of the dog is one of our Chihuahuas, done from this photo:
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