Anime without sound

Some acquaintances* send out annual holiday mailers containing all the funny things the people in their family have said in the last twelve months. I read these things with close attention; I’m convinced that if I ever laugh at one of their family jokes, my universe will shatter.

I told Jake, “Maybe we should start saving up the funny things we say and send it to [our acquaintances] to show them how it’s done.”

But is this stuff any funnier, coming from us?

While Jake’s watching soundless anime on TV.

“Hey, Daddy, you really ought to try watching anime without the sound on.”

“Jacob, for that to be fun, I think I would have to smoke an enormous joint.”

Later.

“Hey Jake. Ever notice how if you run it all together, the name of the program is Dragonballz?”

In the mall.

“Look, Jake. Really cold mannequin.”

“Hey Daddy. Do they ever make mannequins with camel toes?”

That’s all I have so far. Grateful, aren’t you?

***

I need to take pictures of the interior of this hotel room. The bathroom is huge. It’s all huge. I wasn’t tempted to take pictures of our big family get-together (oy, we’re all getting older, every one of us, even though in my mind I’m still six — does it show? — my brother’s an obnoxious 13-year-old, my sis is getting ready to go off to college, and my parents are still young) but here in this hotel room I want to take pictures of a shower stall. What’s wrong with my priorities?

***

Why we’re in a hotel when my parents have two unused bedrooms at their place:

We told them we would stay with them for the four nights. Then we learned that my brother, his wife, his daughter and her husband and their toddler — were ALL going to be staying there for Saturday and Sunday night.

Uninterested in playing sardines, we made reservations for a hotel. My brother, apparently thinking the same thing, made reservations for a hotel. We only found this out today, so of course we can’t cancel our rezzies. And here we are. We’re all staying in hotel rooms and my parents have an empty house rather than family around for their 60th anniversary. Don’t we communicate well?

But I’m loving this hotel room, just the same.

***

We had some yummy dim sum today at a place called Chang’s (on Decatur, near Tropicana, if you’re interested). You always know you’re in for a treat if none of the help speaks English and you can count the gweilo patrons on one hand. We ate: jellyfish salad, shrimp balls (shrimpballz?), these itty bitty ribs, barbecued pork bao, those fat noodle things with shrimp inside, pork shiu mai, lotus seed-sesame seed ball things, and a Chinese donut. Only after I had stuffed myself did they trot out one of my favorite things in the world: little fried fishies. Smelt, I guess. I felt like begging the waitress, “ONE. Just one inch of one, oh just a taste, pleeeease.”

Which was, incidentally, the opening of a Rona Barrett memoir. Jeez. The things I remember from childhood.

***

We had our big dinner at Cheesecake Factory. This was fine, actually, and could have been far worse (Olive Garden, anyone?) My brother made a toast: To another sixty years. Earlier, my dad was talking about his WWII medals. “I wonder who will get these when I’m gone.” They mean a lot to him, those medals, but it’s a funny thing what people value. Yeah, I’ve talked about this before. What do I value? Photos. No — stories. If my dad can give me the stories behind the medals, I’ll keep the stories and my brother can keep the medals.

My sis did make that photo scrapbook for my parents, by the way. Really cool gift, and I think my mom appreciated it. I even heard her say, “Thank you,” followed shortly thereafter by, “Wow. You could really make money doing this for people.”

Family.

D.

*Remember, I have a few local readers. Wouldn’t take many clues for them to figure out whom I’m talking about.