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Horse Pocky
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5/10/2005
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If you know much about me at all, you know that I have, at best, a passing interest in sports. I'll go to a party where a game is on, but the idea of planning on sitting in front of a television to watch four hours of (insert sporting event here) is as foreign to me as sitting through any movie with Meg Ryan in it.
This weekend I was invited to a Kentucky Derby party at a friend's house and decided to give it a shot since this party is a big deal in his family and I wasn't able to make it last year. I also had never had a mint julep and was curious to know what that was all about.
So I put on my fanciest sundress and biggest hat and headed over.
Mint Julep- not so good. I think it was shaved ice, sugar, and bourbon with a mint leaf (I'm sure there is a secret family formula that I just insulted, but that's what I could taste). Of all of those ingredients, the only one I consume on any sort of regular basis is ice. After trying and failing to drink a mint julep I started making virgin snow cones that were quite tasty. Then I found a cooler of Heineken on the back porch and made yellow snow cones for the comedic value.
If I could ever truly become attached to a sporting event, I think it would be horse racing. It's like NASCAR for rich alcoholics with ADD. Any sporting event that lasts around 2 minutes is just right for me- especially when it is a great excuse to throw a party with your friends. Even if your friends have an unhealthy obsession with the game, you'll only lose their attention for 127 seconds or so.
Sunday was mother's day, and as much as I love my parents, I hate Hallmark holidays. I used to hate Valentine's Day until a few years ago when I realized it doesn't apply to me and hasn't for quite some time. Basically I can't stand the concept of a day that is imposed on people on which they feel some kind of obligation to buy gifts for people they care about every other day of the year anyway.
My brother and father and I decided that we were going to cook for mom...you know, since she has cooked for at least one of us about 8 billion times over the past 40 years. Of all of the things that could have happened, taking my dad to the grocery store was the most entertaining.
Keep in mind, my dad can build a turbocharger out of a coat hanger and a soda can and fly anything with wings. He was just sort of out of his element at Kroger. My brother and I, on the other hand, have logged some serious hours at grocery stores due to many years spent as bachelors. We had to keep an eye on him, lest he wander off only to be found days later in the frozen foods section clutching a copy of "Plane and Pilot" magazine. In a way, it was sort of cool to see dad experiencing all of this stuff for the first time. Putting fresh produce directly in the shopping cart, grapes falling through the wire mesh, only to have my brother and me follow behind with little plastic bags, reminding ourselves to wash them extra well, then picking up jars of things he had never seen and saying the name aloud (much to our amusement in the Foreign food aisle- "Hey- would you guys rather have Pocky or Shito mix for dessert? Hahaha").
When it came time to check out, our dad (who Captained massive aircraft filled with hundreds of people all around the world for years and years) said he'd take care of it as long as we'd cook (as if he's really going to hand over the magic spatula and let us use his grill) and found himself taken aback by the little debit card swipey machine at the register. I overheard the following-
"How do I use this one?" (holding up a credit card)
"Just select your payment type and swipe the card."
"It doesn't say anything about a type. It says 'k plus'."
"It that a debit card, sir?"
(turning card over in his hand) "It's a visa...whatever...credit card. It's blue."
At this point, my brother said "It's a credit card machine, not a fuel systems management display. Help him out, Dusty." It was at this point I realized how thankful I was for my mom. She has been quietly and busily making sure that the men in the household don't hurt themselves for many years.
Later that afternoon, Pop said that for Father's day he wanted to be featured in an article I wrote. I guess for my birthday I'll be getting disinherited.
 Dusty
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posted by Dusty at 1:50 PM |
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11 Comments:
I think you should write about your dad more.. I can see where you get your super-powers from.. :)
Stef
Love the part about takin your Pop to the grocery...
What flavor ice cream did he get? ;)
knpepepper
whole wiiiiide world.
whole wiiiiide world.
2) The man I am marrying once bought an industrial sized jar of mayonnaise with the last $5 we had. Like you Samantha, I was too mad to breathe, much less yell at him.
3) Dusty's dad does pretty much rock. I got to watch Monty Python with him. That makes me very cool.
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