I literally flew back here to Home Sweet D.C. from the Motherland of Pittsburgh tonight — it took three hours to get from the family’s hacienda to my workplace (200 miles). It took another hour to go the remaining 35 miles, mostly because my brain shut the hell off.
I find that I have historically treated trips to see the family more like an obligation than a vacation, so I insisted on dragging the family all over creation this time, trying new foods and shopping in new places and all kinds of things that otherwise broke them out of their comfort zones.
Tomorrow’s Mom’s birthday, so I took her and my grandfather out last night to the Cheesecake Factory, where the food was The. Best. Seriously, I could have ridden the Godiva chocolate cheesecake to glory, but it was my Bang Bang Chicken and Shrimp (a Thai dish with curry, peanut and flaked coconut. Yum) that was the highlight of my entire life. The sauce was freaking amazing, and I told my mom that I suggest lube manufacturers quit making, well, lube, and bottle this stuff instead. And in true form, Mom replied that we’d give the best (well, you know) ever if we could use that sauce in the festivities. 😉
Ah, the decadence in general — I picked up a coupla bottles of port from Trax and will probably be back to add to my wine collection yet again next time I hit town. And my coffee collection (I picked up some bananas foster beans and some cranberry creme beans this time around). I just need to replenish my money supply — I have way too much fun when Mom and I are out hitting the town!
I have had this guilt hanging over my head, that I should (when I move) have my mom and grandfather move in with me. But this comes from the girl who turned 18 and moved the fuck out immediately if not sooner. I don’t know — they hate where they live and it’s truly horrible and they’d love to be closer to me, but I am one of those people who either has to live alone or needs her own wing (or, at least, her own bathroom). Not that I am rolling in money, mind you — I’m trying to figure out how I can squeeze some time/energy out of my day/week/life to take on a second job to fund this stupid move in the first place.
In completely unrelated news, it’s not only been a year since I’ve been sans Club Medicated (yay!) but it’s also been a year that I’ve quit smoking. w00t! In that year, I’ve had two cigarettes (in July) and damn, were they good. But I wasn’t inclined to pick up the habit again after that, so happy day.
Well, I’ve got 20 pounds of cat shit to drag to the curb, not to mention lovely little vomit landmines courtesy of the four-pawed wonders, so I’ve got a hot date with the carpet cleaner and a bottle of Tylenol. Oh, 6 a.m. comes entirely too quickly. …
On iTunes: Willy Porter, “You Stay Here”