Eat For Two

We survived Thanksgiving. I self-medicated with my friend Tanqueray.

Unfortunately for everyone, the highlight of the holiday was when both dogs (of Paris Hilton-esque toy variety, belonging to various family members) decided to pee on my feet in succession during the feast. First the shih-tzu (wearing a lace ruffled collar with sequin menorahs, I hasten to add) relieved herself on my toes. As it was near room-temperature and I was significantly impaired by the Tanqueray, I didn’t fully notice until I caught the miniature dachsund marking her territory (my feet) to cover up the scent of the other dog’s pee. Mildly impaired and covered in dog pee, I shuffled off to the liquor cabinet for another round.

Also, in a slightly impaired fit of totally embarrassing and ridiculous emotion, I cornered my mother-in-law, professing how incredibly lucky I was to have her and father-in-law. You know the feeling. You’ve done it. Is a family holiday the place? I’m not sure, but there I was a blubbering emotional mess droning on and on about how much I love my mother-in-law. And I do, I suppose. And the Tanqueray told me just how much.

The real festivities began, however, when we flew back home and drove – tired and hung over – to Fort Lauderdale to see my parents off on their ten-day cruise to the eastern Carribean, followed by a night in South Beach, Miami (more on South Beach another day, but suffice it to say DO THOSE PEOPLE EVER WEAR CLOTHING?!). I’ve always prided myself on being raised in a highly tolerant household, despite growing up in an area where the KKK had a tremendously strong foothold – a few nights each year, you could see, if you looked very hard, the burning crosses from my dad’s house in Pennsylvania, where the Klan would hold their semi-annual rituals. The only prejudices my parents hold tend to be generational and without malintent. My mother tends to take this to an entirely different level, and makes a concerted effort to ensure her friends are multi cultural. I don’t think she realizes it, but she has created her own rule of Affirmative Action. Whatever her slightly token-esque manifestations, I genuinely have always believed that her intentions are pure, and that I could bring home a man or woman of any race, religion or station in life and he or she would be welcomed.

During Friday night’s pre-cruise dinner, she commented on her eleventy-millionth attractive man. Eleventy millionth attractive black man, a fact that I hadn’t noticed until she busted out with,

“Wow. I just noticed that I only find African American men attractive.” She turned to my stepfather, “So what the hell am I doing with you? I have JUNGLE FEVER, for God’s sake.”

Of course this was said loudly. At dinner. Heaven help us. I can only hope it’s a remote sign of, erm, a misguided attempt at hipness? Was she thinking of Spike Lee? My mother has completely lost her mind.

*10,000 Maniacs.

9 comments November 28th, 2005