Quinoa Anyone?

I visited my parents this weekend. Every time I visit my parents, I leave with a lot more stuff than I arrived with. There are a number of factors that attribute to this phenomenon. First, I frequently discover something nostalgic from my childhood that I want to take home with me. This time I found my some of my favorite childhood books: The House that had Enough and Jenny Goes to the Hospital. I predict that I will someday be excited to read these books to my children, only to discover that my children do not appreciate them like I do.

Sometimes I leave my parents's house with more stuff than I arrived with because my mom always tries to give her stuff to me. During a prior visit, she tried to give me some pasta bowls. This weekend we ate out of the same pasta bowls and I commented on how cute they are. My mom then made a comment about how she tried to give them to me one time but I wouldn't take them. This weekend my mom offered to give me a small rocking chair she bought at a garage sale for $10. I would have taken it if my brother hadn't informed me that it was the only chair he has to sit in while he plays video games. I decided I'd rather my 19 year-old brother sit in a small rocking chair while playing violent video games than have the chair sitting in my living room.

My parents always load me up with food when I leave home. They frequently give me a cooler to keep the food cold while I drive home. So far, I have a red cooler, a blue cooler, and a hefty styrofoam cooler. This weekend I left with with the customary brisket and a bonus 1.5 gallon container of Quinoa. My parents have multiple 1.5 gallon containers of Quinoa sitting around the kitchen. My mom explained that my dad wanted to try Quinoa. My dad explained that he could only find Quinoa in very large quantities. I'm not sure how much I believe this considering my dad's affinity for food in large quantities. I'll never forget the oversized jar of baby corn that lived in our fridge for a while. He explained that one as a good deal, as we all know that baby corn also comes in small jars.

This past weekend I learned just how much my dad loves a good deal. One evening my dad explained that he buys the box of 24 mini ice cream sandwiches instead 12 regular size ice cream sandwiches because while both boxes are the same price, the mini ice cream sandwiches are over two ounces each and the regular ice cream sandwiches are only a little over three ounces. Perhaps even more telling of my dad's weak spot for a good deal are the National Geographic magazines. My dad, whom I have never witnessed reading for leisure, now subscribes to National Geographic. He informed my mom that it was a good deal. Upon seeing me read one of the National Geographic magazines, my mom seized upon the opportunity to send the magazines home with someone who might at least remove them from their plastic sleeve. So, when I left on Monday, I left with a bag full of National Geographic Magazines, as well as a number of Smithsonian and This Old House magazines. There must be a lot of good deals on magazine subscriptions. Perhaps it's inherent in the difference between the shelf price of a single magazine and the price of an annual subscription.

The best good deal that my dad has succumbed to is a vitamin system called Endless Youth. These vitamins arrive at my parents' house periodically. The problem is that my dad did not take the vitamins the first few times they arrived. As a result, there are multiple boxes of Endless Youth vitamins sitting on top of the fridge. I kindly declined my mom's offer to take home some Endless Youth Vitamins. I would hate to be accused of stealing youth from my parents. Besides, my car was already full of quinoa, magazines, and a cooler of meat.

You might wonder if my dad would be offended by this somewhat comical take on his impulse to buy things because they are a good deal. Don't worry, this blog requires reading for leisure, something my dad doesn't do even when he pays for it. Also, my dad isn't the least bit interested in computers. My mom showed my dad a compilation of images from the People of Wal-Mart website. My dad responded by stating that the person who made the video spent a lot of time sitting in Wal-Mart taking pictures. So, no, I don't think my dad will be reading this blog, and I expect you to keep your mouth shut the next time you see him.

Dirty Chuckie

I went to Chuckie Cheese the other night. I didn't remember Chuckie being so dirty.

Look me in the eyes when you're talking to me, Chuckie!

Old El Paso

Chris and I went to El Paso last weekend. We left Thursday after work. Two accidents and one freeway closure later, we arrived in El Paso at 3:30 Friday morning. The first hotel we tried was not pet friendly, despite online advertisements to the contrary. The second hotel was pet-friendly but required a 20 minute wait while hotel staff ran end-of-the-night reports. By 4:30 we were in our hotel room, just in time to watch the royal wedding.

Friday we slept in. We wandered around downtown El Paso (a very strange place). We ate at a fancy restaurant with individual purse racks and mints on a fancy platter. When we sat down the waiter asked us what kind of water we wanted. We should have replied, "Potable." The waiter would have responded in confusion at this unknown brand. We would have sighed and said, "Oh, just bring us some tap water."

The rest of the family arrived on Friday afternoon. We took Doug to Grandma Cuca's house and visited with everyone. At some point, Doug sat in gum, which we did not realize until he smeared it all over the floor of the car on the ride back to the hotel later that evening.

Saturday was the Bat Mitzvah for Chris' cousin. It started at 9:30 that morning. We were only 20 minutes late, which wasn't bad considering that we had four people sharing one bathroom, two power outages, and a belt crisis. The first power outage occurred when I plugged in my blow dryer without unplugging the mini refrigerator The second power outage occurred when Jesse, Chris' brother, plugged in the iron, while his wife Vanessa dried her hair. Chris then spent ten minutes recalling physics lessons and calculating the wattagge of all our appliances to ensure that the power outages would stop. Shortly after this, Jesse realized he had black shoes but no black belt. Chris found a thumb tack, which Vanessa used a poke an extra hole in the end of Chris' black belt so that it would fit Jesse. She succeeded, although there was hardly any belt left to tuck into the belt loop, causing the end of the belt to stick straight out.

I had no idea what to expect at the Bat Mitzvah and certainly did not expect a three hour service almost entirely in Hebrew. I tried to follow along with the English translations, but I was constantly distracted by the rituals going on all around me. Men were tucking their knees and bobbing their torsos as they prayed, the congregation joined in the readings with songs or chants a unexpected moments, and Chris' cousin paraded the Torah scrolls through the congregation so that everyone could touch with with the spines of their books.

Sabbath lunch was nothing short of comical, as was the dancing later that night at the Bat Mitzvah party (think Napolean Dynomite). We topped off the night by going to the very same Peter Piper's Pizza where Chris spent many Saturday nights as a child. I can now say with authority that the Pizza at Peter Piper's is much better than the pizza at Chuckie Cheese.

As I crawled into bed late Saturday night, I felt something wet. I looked down and saw a large yellow spot where Doug had been sleeping when we arrived at the hotel earlier that night. Ugh. We spent the next two hours washing the sheets and comforter, all the while ignoring Doug's playful antics. Luckily, everything cleaned up well. We finally crawled into bed at 3:00 a.m., only to wake-up five hours later, feast on homemade stuffed french toast, and drive 550 miles back home.

Who knew a trip El Paso would be so eventful.