We are all gathered at the Dacha to celebrate the Fourth of July, my daughter’s 12th birthday and set some overeating records. By “we all”, I mean my mama and papa, Young Ladrinka, my daughter, my stepson, Husbandrinka and my in-lawrinkas.
It’s a full house and we’re off to a great start already.
For example, I noticed that my parents have a new salt and pepper shaker set and I complimented them on it.
And mama says, “Oh, you mean Stalin?”
And I say, “Those are not Stalins.”
And papa says, “No, the one on the left is Stalin and the one on the right is his Jewish cousin, Simon.”
Which, okay, except they look identical. So that makes no sense.
“I really doubt that they are Stalins. What, you think they have Hitler salt and pepper shakers, too?”” I asked.
“Not yet, but the Hitler shakers are coming soon,” papa promised. Probably in time for Christmas.
And then I had this conversation with Husbandrinka.
M: Do you like my friends?
H: Sure. I mean you don’t really have that many.
M: Of course I have a lot of friends. I have Kathryn, and Susan and P.K. and Daisy and Kristin and Anna and Robyn and I’m just warming up here.
H: I like all of them.
M: Why did you say that I don’t have many friends.
H: You’re the one who’s always saying ‘I don’t have a lot of friends.’
M: I never said that.
H: I may be thinking of someone else.
Mama and my mother-in-law. Let me just say that if there’s a pregnant sexagenarian out there that she keeps her legs crossed this weekend. Because one day when they were together some geriatric set the record by giving birth and my mother and mother-in-law nearly set their own world record by talking about it nonstop for approximately a century that contained a greater number than usual of leap years.
On Friday night, we went to see Grown Ups. Walk don’t run to see it. Or run in the direction of an oncoming freight train. I can only assume that Chris Rock plea bargained to being in this movie for some crime that he must have committed in a previous life.