Tag Archive | singing

Summer Lovin’

Earbuds firmly stuck in her ears, my mom dances around the lawn, backlit against the sinking sun. Her weights are in her hands, swinging dangerously near to her head everytime she raises her arms. She’s supposedly working out, and as she launches into the chorus of Van Morrison’s Brown Eyed Girl, I can practically see her happiness gauge filling up. Cooper, the always hungry 10-year-old pup, pads around behind her, hoping he’ll get some kind of reward for his loyalty, not realizing that she has no idea he’s even there.

She’s oblivious to anything but her music, he’s oblivious to anything but his stomach. Together they make the perfect pair, spinning around until their shadows blur in the oncoming nighttime. Smiling, I shut my window on the enchanted scene, closing yet another perfect summer day.

Live long and prosper \V/
Yours sincerely,
The Mostly Confused Teenager.

 

Parents and the realm of weirdness

Parents are weird. Fact. Parents do embarrassing things. Other fact. I love my parents. Other other fact.  (weeeell, most of the time anyway)

My parents are the very definition of opposites attract: my mom is 5 feet 4 inches, dainty, quiet, with blond hair that is never out of place, and has a sort of fear of voicing her opinion (although you can tell when she disapproves because her eyes get way darker). My dad on the other hand is a 6 foot dude with a loud voice, built like a teddy bear with graying hair that goes in all directions, and round glasses. Actually if you just look at his face there is a clear resemblance with Einstein. However my parents do have some things in common: they’re both adorably cheesy and they love each other very very much. And I love them too, it’s just that sometimes they do things that make me question their sanity.

When I was little I saw my dad drinking a glass of whiskey. Being the innocent girl that I was, I asked what was in the glass. “Oh, it’s apple juice, would you like a sip?” I haven’t regained the taste for whiskey to this day. He’s also dared me to eat a chilly pepper (which I did) and to drink a bottle of salad dressing (which I did. Um…not). He calls them ‘life experiences’. My mom told me he was an idiot. Ah, love..

After reading and severely annotating a paper I had written for school in his messy handwriting and seeing the look of dismay on my face he reassured me: “don’t worry if you can’t read my handwriting, I can’t either. And if you don’t understand something I wrote, don’t ask me, I don’t know what the hell I was drinking when that pen was in my hand”. Frickin’ fabulous.

My mom has this habit where she’ll break into song at any and every point of the day, no matter where we are or who’s company we’re in. Now, she has a lovely, clear voice that rings in your ears long after she’s stopped, but starting to sing “Jeremiah was a bullfrog, tadaaa, was a good friend of mine, tadaaa” (Joy to the World, Three Dog Night) in the middle of the food court does not seem like a good idea to me. She’s very quiet when she talks, but boy when she starts singing… things change.

A couple of weeks ago my dad came up to me and said these exact words “what if God were one of us, and everyday he took the bus, and Lucy (our cat) changed her name to Gus?” The beffudled expression on my face said everything. He grinned at me and walked away. Talk about randomness.

It would take me a whole book to describe all of the odd occurences I’ve lived through in my life, but I’ll wrap up here with this one. Last week we were in New York City visiting old friends and bla bla bla. Both my parents were born there and although it seems to have left no particular mark on my mom, my dad likes to think that’s he’s still a New Yorker (please, he moved to Vermont when he was 6) so he uses this ridiculous accent whenever we’re there. Anyway, when we had just arrived, we were in a cab and he started talking to the driver. My mom nearly went into hysterics laughing at him while I pretended to have ended up in the cab by accident. The driver just looked at us like we were aliens.

But hey, at least they don’t rip off their clothes anytime they see a pool. That’s my grandad’s thing. Did I mention that I have a weird family?

Mom, Dad, I love you.

Live long and prosper \V/

Yours sincerely,

The Mostly Confused Teenager.