You know how parents play that game of "If you could only save one child, which one would it be?" No? Really? Only Jay & I play that? Huh. I really thought everyone played. Whatever.
Today I emailed my husband and my sister and gave them each the same simple choice: I'm going to murder one of my parents today. If you have a preference, let me know now.
I love my parents. Really. They're awesome. But living the hard gypsy life like we have for so long, I only get my parents in two strengths: None and All. The None stretches are very long and I miss them terribly, but the All stints are so saturated and heavy that I often feel that overstuffed sick feeling like eating a rich dessert after a big dinner. I could definitely have more at a later date, but right now I can't take one single more bite. Plus, I'm the kind of person who doesn't like to be around people. I always SAY I do, but I don't. Poor Jay has no choice; he's serving life with no chance of parole, my kids don't know any better, and my family still forgives me for my socially challenged bitch disability. People, I was truly born this way.
Jay's family is so different. They're all polite and friendly, all let's meet for a 2-hour lunch every few months. It's quick, easy, painless, and I rarely have a mess to clean. My family, on the other hand, stays for weeks, undoes my kitchen, and generally wreak havoc. My mom buys and buys and buys while my dad fixes and fixes and fixes. This would all be fine except we don't need - or have room for - all the things she buys, and we usually don't need fixed what he's fixing. I keep a to-do list for my dad to keep him busy specifically for this reason, kinda like how I save special chewy treats for the dogs when we leave so they don't eat my computer cord.
So I made the murder offer, and so far they've both declined to choose. (Jay generously offered, "They're your parents, you make the call.") My sister's checking to see what she needs more of coming up, things fixed at her house or a babysitter, and will probably get back to me once she's decided. Whether it'll be in time or not isn't certain.
Meanwhile, back on the fake farm, I'm loving that we have 5000 tomatoes soon to ripen, and can't wait to see whether all the unrecognizable greenery in the plant beds are really vegetables or just weeds. There are so many that I'm thinking weeds, but Jay also plants with the same mentality as my parents: All or None. That means even though I say, "Plant THREE of these seeds," what he HEARS is 3 seeds would be much better as 50 seeds. I also realized my serious error when he asked, "Where do you want these planted?" and I said, "Wherever you want." I now have spring lettuce mix growing out of my hanging marigold planter. But my award-winning pumpkin vine is (kinda scarily) taking over an entire third of our yard and a shitload of melon vines (again, I tell Jay plant ONE seed, he hears 'plant a shitload of seeds') are starting to creep up as well. Cool that we might actually have enough to loosely call it a crop, but also a bit creepy like at the beginning of The Mist. On the plus side, though, I think it'll make a perfect spot to hide a body. I'll keep you posted.
UPDATE: My mom brought me back 3 packages of Starbucks refreshers. She's safe for now.
Queen of my own Magic Kingdom, full of all the irreverent, obnoxious, and sometimes offensive sarcasm you know and love. I don't care what people think of me, but I do care if you like my blog. Read, forward, repeat.
