Secret Key to Getting Along with Parents: Sangria

Yesterday I decided to be seen in public with my parents; it doesn't happen often. They wanted to check out a 55 and over community and I liked the idea of being the youngest person in the room. Apparently after a certain age, stairs are out and elevators are in. We spent over an hour touring unit after unit, all crazy-expensive like 7 figures and each elaborate. By the end I felt the walls coming in on me. After the visit we hit Trader Joe's and then a nearby Italian restaurant.

The air hit us in the face; it is crisp and cool around here, dropping more than a few degrees. The leaves are piling up, some trees are already bare. So the time is right for my mom to wear her ghetto-fly-mac-daddy hat. It is black, puffy and really loose on top, not unlike Snoop Dog's. Paired with her mirror sunglasses, and wow. So, take that ensemble and my dad's: fedora, replete with feather, and hounds-tooth scarf, and you've got one smokin' couple. My fashion plate move: my purple fleece zipper up vest, which makes me look like a lesbian, but it's just too comfortable not to wear. And with pockets that zipper? Who could resist? The check-out lady at Trader Joe's quite liked my dad's outfit.

Some snippets of conversation over dinner:

Mom: "If you die and I have to clean out the basement, I'm going to be cursing you out."
Dad: "Yes, I like the chicken here too."

Or...

Me: "I feel bad. A. hasn't had her dinner yet."
Dad: "You're welcome, sweetheart. My pleasure to take you all out for dinner."

My all-time favorite...

Mom: "Why do you think he needs a hearing aid?"
Dad: "They're five thousand dollars! They don't work and medicare doesn't cover it."
Mom: "He hears when I pup in the other room. That, he hears."
Me: "Wow, that's impressive."
Dad: "I'm sorry? You're mumbling again."

Sangria, sangria, sangria