This Thursday, finally, with much relief, Idaho’s legislators called sine die and left town. On Friday, many of my coworkers, including me, were back to wearing jeans. We’re forbidden to do so while the legislators are in town. I hear it’s a “showing respect” thing. Hmmm.
My sister returns on Monday night (finally!) after an extended stay with our parents in Texas. She did all the things a good daughter would do, at least the kind of daughter who hopes to gain the upper hand with our parents and knock her big sister off the Favorite Daughter pedestal.
- She took our father to the store and helped him pile $40 worth of chocolate candy into the cart. That’s enough for at least 4 meals for him. I’d have gotten him double that amount AND made him some chocolate fudge. You said you couldn’t find any See’s Candy? Well, there’s a package on its way from ME.
- She made dozens of meals for them that are now proudly perched in their freezer, lined up like the over-eager thunder-stealing children they are. Sorry, sister. I could have told you Dad wouldn’t like the eggplant casserole, but you didn’t ask. I’d have made him a nice juicy filet with a side of chocolate candy, because I know he doesn’t like his foods all mixed together into an indistinguishable mass trying hard to hide a VEGETABLE.
- She played Dominoes with my parents and let my Dad win. I’d not only have let my Dad win, I’d have rewarded him with a piece of chocolate every time he placed a domino AND asked, “Whose turn is it?”
- She helped Mom put together a cute little basket filled with homemade goodies to take with her to her bridge club. How banal. I’d have filled the basket with money. Those bridge-playing folks can get all the homemade goodies they want, but a couple of Jacksons would buy them all the Scotch they need and desire.
- She cut both my Dad’s and Mom’s hair. For free. I’d have not only cut their hair, but given them a massage, a mani-pedi, facial, a Rolfing, and some chocolate. I run an upscale boutique, not a sleezy corner barbershop.
- She stayed up until midnight watching a movie with my Mom and Dad. Okay, this one’s tough, but a couple of Red Bulls and a lengthy nap in the afternoon would probably do the trick for me. So, I not only would stay up that late, but I’d prepare a delightful breakfast for our late rising parents who she tried to wear out.
- She became my Dad’s personal bartender, turning every late afternoon into an alcohol-laced, Jeopardy-watching happy hour. I’d have done that but I’d also have provided hors d’oeuvres. And not a single one of the appetizers would contain vegetables. There’d be a box of Cheez-its among the buffet along with chocolates and plenty of alcohol.
- She gave Mom two pairs of pants. Hand-me-down-pants, however. I’d have gone online and ordered every pair of elastic-waist pants available and had them delivered that day along with matching blouses.
- She went to the store and bought them a new, user-friendly thermostat. I don’t care if the thing only has two buttons to operate; any fool would know that the number of times you can punch the up and down arrows is INFINITE. I’d have never wasted the time and money on that. I’d have bought Mom a personal, portable, battery-operated fan and Dad some nice, thick, cozy sweaters, bedroom slippers, and some more chocolate.
- She made dozens of desserts for them and put some in the freezer for the future. Now, that’s just unfair, prejudicial, and stacking-the-deckish. I’m going online to See’s Candies and setting up an account.
I look forward to my sister’s return. I know she has lots to tell me about the last 2-and-a-half weeks. I enjoyed the word-a-day emails she sent and I’m grateful that she could spend that much time with my dear parents. I owe her.
But she owes me for putting up with Satan, I mean, Carmella, for all that time. She owes me for lost sleep, lost productivity, and for that one pillow her dog gutted. Their reunion will be nauseatingly affectionate. I certainly hope that my sister appreciates the effort it took to help Carmella lose a few pounds while she was a member of Jean’s Boise Fat Camp. Her dog no longer sports the bloated, pyknic physique she did a few weeks back.
Helping a dog lose weight isn’t easy. Sometimes the weight comes off unevenly. Oh, well.