Spinster

I’m going to Turkey for a couple weeks in May with my parents. Apparently my dad brought home a Turkish phrasebook the other night and proudly presented it to my mom. She promptly informed him that she already knew the two words she needed to know for the trip–bira and “cigaro.” That last one she might have just made up. That’s kind of her approach to Spanish as well–just stick an “a” or an “o” on the end of an English word, and it’s Instant Spanish, or Instant Turkish, or whatever. It’s not that my mother doesn’t respect other cultures, it’s just that she figures that there are only two things she needs in order to have a good time wherever she is–beer and cigarettes. You have to admire her for her simplicity.

When David Sedaris came to Books & Books, one of the things he requested (and by “requested,” I mean “demanded”) was that he be allowed to smoke in the store. He’s one of my favorite writers and I have made both of my parents read his books. I got them tickets to his talk, and my mom was in full form that night. She has real long dark hair and she’s very thin (she pretty much lives on coffee, cigarettes, and beer–I figure that even though beer has tons of calories, they all cancel each other out in the end), and she was wearing this trippy black and white swirly dress, heels, and big clunky plastic bracelets. She rolls her own cigarettes and carries a supply around with her in case she gets a free moment. So after Sedaris read (and he was hilarious, by the way), everyone lined up to get their books signed, and my parents somehow made it to the front of the line. I’d brought all of my books for him to sign and gave them to my parents, since I was on crowd control. My mom struck up a conversation with him about cigarettes and the many joys of smoking. They got so friendly that she gave him one of her hand-rolled cigarettes and a kiss on the cheek, and he wrote in her book, “Don’t ever quit.”

I love my mom but we are so different. When my coworkers and bosses met her that night at the bookstore, they couldn’t understand how she and I were related. However, she’s totally the light of my family. And when I called her today to make her tell me that I’m pretty, she told me that I’m a 15 on a scale of 1 to 10. So basically, my mom is a fuckin’ rock star.

How is it possible that these things are sprouts? I planted 4 beans in this little pot, and when the soil started to get pushed up by the sprouts, I got a little worried. How big are they gonna get? They’re going all Jack and the Giant Beanstalk on me.

From time to time, I check out Craftster’s forum to see what people are making. It’s a really cool site, for anyone who’s interested in any kind of crafts, from knitting and spinning to scrapbooking and jewelery making. Anyway, I was browsing through the posts about finished articles of clothing, and found this really cool dress. The girl who made it got the fabric from Goodwill and the pattern from the dump. How cool is that? I love it when people re-use things that would otherwise be thrown away. I am the daughter of the original dumpster diver–I love hearing stories about how my mom used to drag tons of crap home on garbage day. Although, honestly, it’s pretty embarrassing when you can’t take a walk around the block without your mom going through your neighbors’ recycling. And I have to admit that when I was in elementary school, I used to give my teachers flowers that I got with my mom and my brother when we would climb into the dumpsters at the flower shop down the street. I absolutely cringe to think about it now, those teachers at stupid rich Pinecrest Elementary School receiving flowers from the dumpster. But whatever man, there was nothing wrong with them.

PS–My roommate totally just changed her underwear in front of me. That was an interesting moment.