Sunday, November 20, 2005

Tears and Wine

This weekend I headed east and met up with my parents to watch my sister end her collegiate athletic career.


The hot topic of conversation was my Dad's hairstyle. Bless my father's heart. Somehow after putting up with three ladies for 24 years, this man is still alive and becoming more laid-back with age. What hasn't changed, though, in the last quarter of a century, is his hair. Thank the Baby J he did rid himself of the porn 'stash, thanks to my mom's urging, but the hair has remained consistent. As his barber got more and more senile and the hair less and less prevalent on top, my father started to bring home a quasi-combover. It got to be so much combover that my mom threatened to not vacation with him until he faced the fact that he was balding and got rid of some of that excess hair off the top. To which my Dad replied, "I'm a businessman- I can't look like a rockstar!" Right, Dad, cause having a balding head automatically makes you a rockstar. But my mom and I don't know what kind of a relationship men have with their hair, especially when it's on the way out, so for the most part we tried to keep as quiet as we could about the combover. Well, apparently the other day my Dad finally got up the courage to get a little wild. He went a little shorter on top- creating somewhat of a more mini-swoop. We spent the weekend telling my Dad his hair was a vast improvement and that next time he needed a good solid two more inches off the top. Like my mom says, "baby steps." It's progress though.


This weekend can also be characterized by lots of waterworks; the first ones due to the movie Walk the Line. Go out and see this movie right now. Reese and Joaquin have the best chemistry and it's a well-scripted and well-acted love story. I cried. Hard. I know, that's not saying much. But my dad was sniffling! MY DAD! Mind you, I've seen my dad cry two other times- at funerals. And he was crying at the end of Walk the Line! My mom said, "Yeah, he's kind of a softie," and after the show he tried to play it all cool and stuttered, "That was a tearjerker," and bolted for the bathroom. While we were waiting for him my mom looked at me and, referring to the movie, said, "See- that's all I want for you and your sister: That wow kind of love that just blows you away." Aw. That's what everyone wants, isn't it? It's so nice to know there's someone else out there rooting for it on my behalf.


The second cause of tears was that Saturday was my sister's senior night, the last time we'll watch her play. That was it. For over six years my sister's life has been this sport. I can only imagine it's surreal for her. I've seen her play at Disney's Wide World of Sports in Orlando, at the U of I, University of Louisville, Maryland, Virginia, and St. John's in NYC and it's been a blast. I'm not exactly sure what the rest of my fam will be doing after this week, as this sport has also been my parent's all-time favorite hobby. Little sis, congratulations!


Three other senior teammates live with my sister and so to celebrate the girls and the families all sat around and drank wine, ate homemade soft pretzels (my dream come true), watched their dog play with Tupperware, and exchanged stories. Thanks to the combination of wine and my sister's big mouth, my mom has now learned that I had gotten her puking wasted when she was a sophomore in high school visiting me my freshman year in college. Mom was not pleased. Then my sister also proceeded to tell her that I let her use my ID for the last three years. This is all big news for my mom, who lives in a bubble. So if my mom had thought I was an alchy before, I probably just sealed a room assignment at the Betty Ford Center.


After the wineage, at my sister's urging I got to really go back to college and hit up a house party. And house party I did. We're talking a plethora of 18+ year olds and keg beer. Ah, the good 'ol days. We even all got kicked out of the party by cops. Yes, you heard me right. At the age of 24 I got asked to leave a house party by a police officer. And then I had to ride in the trunk of a Range Rover of one of my sister's teammates. Um, none of my friends at Kansas drove Range Rovers. Awesome visit, so who wants to join me for her graduation in May :)


I finished off the weekend flying Southwest Air. Of course the world's most annoying couple had to sit next to me- Boyfriend and Girlfriend Alternative. I should have liked these indie rockers since they were both sporting horrible Christmas sweaters- His featuring Christmas bears and hers featuring assorted reindeer. But I couldn't get over the fact that they WOULDN'T STOP MAKING OUT. With me right next to them. During the entire flight. No matter how many dirty looks I made out of the corner of my eye, they just kept having at it. Vomit. I couldn't get my pod on fast enough when it became time for all "approved electronic devices."


Thanks, C, for driving my bum all the way to Raleigh, for letting me use your furry frog slippers, for telling everyone at the party that I'm 24, for our wine-filled heart to hearts, for making Mom fear for my liver's health, and for many great years of watching your mad skills on the court. Love ya.