Lazy Cat

Miguel has been home this week and, while I was out visiting garbage houses and Luisa was talking to people all over the world, our son was apparently making short movies starring Momo the Cat. He showed me this video last night and my first thought was, "I hope he put that beer back in the fridge when he was done." My second thought was, "This is kinda funny." So, I'm sharing it with you today. I present to you, "Lazy Cat" - a short film by Miguel. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8sjstijVYNk

I Wear My Sunglasses

Yesterday, I went to get new glasses. There is no way this could be relevant to you and yet here I am pretending that it is. The first step to getting new glasses is making an eye appointment. Look at me - already dropping the wisdom on you. I hate making medical appointments of any kind and need to strike it rich so that I can hire a personal assistant to do it for me because Luisa is getting tired of doing it. I kid! Kinda. I did make my own eye appointment though and actually went to the appointment so I think I deserve some kind of reward...like maybe a personal assistant!

The second step to getting new glasses is sitting awkwardly in a chair while a stranger looks deeply into your eyes and says, "Which is better - one or two? Two or four? Three or eight? One or eight?" Then, for the grand finale, they dilate your eyes and shine lights in them until you are blind. Blinding you guarantees future business.

The third step to getting new glasses is having an intense but short-lived relationship with someone who pretends to know what you are looking for in frames and what looks good on you. For me, this meant that we had several awkward initial interactions during which my pal tried to show me oversized women's sunglass frames. He was teachable, however, and responded well to my declaration, "I really prefer androgynous frames". So, then I tried on approximately 3262 frames while still partially blinded from the dilation. It occurred to me that if I could not see to sign my credit card receipt, I might not be the best judge of what looks good on my face in that moment. But, I persevered and picked out new frames for sunglasses (I'm keeping my frames for my regular glasses).

Fear not! The picture accompanying this post does not reflect the sunglass frames I chose.

At least I don't think so.

I guess we'll see in two weeks.

The Onion

Last night in bed...

Luisa: Zeca's room smells like onions.

Vikki: I noticed that too. Weird.

As I was lying there, I contemplated two things.

1. Our pillow talk needs work.

2. Why would Zeca's room smell like onions?

Admittedly, I spent more time on #2 which probably explains the state of #1 but I needed to get to the root of the onion smell. My thought process went something like this:

What have we cooked in the past few days? Have we even had onions recently? Even if we cooked onions, why would the smell only be in her room? I wonder if she took an onion and put it in her room. Why would she do that, though? She hates onions. Could there be wild onions outside and the smell is drifting into her room? Poor kid. Sucks to sleep in a room that smells like onions.

This is what parenting does to you. It makes you consider the possibility that a child would actually keep an onion in her room. Your mind just goes there even though it's absolutely crazy.

This morning over breakfast...

Zeca (to Miguel): Do you like onions?

Miguel: I ate three piles of raw onions on a dare one time.

Zeca: But do you like them?

Miguel: I guess. Why?

Zeca: Just wondering...

All I could think as I listened to this was, "What's with the onions?" The kids then went upstairs to finish getting ready for camp and I could hear them whispering. I do not like it when my children whisper. Most parents probably assume their children are planning a surprise party or breakfast in bed but I always assume mine are plotting a coup.

Me: WHAT ARE YOU WHISPERING ABOUT?!

Kids (in unison): NOTHING!

Me: ZECA COME DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW!

Zeca appeared on the stairs.

Me: Do you have an onion in your room?

I accused my daughter of hiding an onion in her room. How did my life come to this? How did this become a reasonable thing to ask?

Zeca: NO!

Me: Tell me the truth - do you have an onion in your room?

Zeca: Fine...

She walked back up to her room and returned with an onion and the weirdest part (because the onion hoarding thing isn't weird enough) is that I had never seen this onion before. This was a fugitive onion.

Me: Where did you get this?

Zeca: Susan gave it to me when she was gardening. I've been keeping it wrapped in a washcloth in my room and watering its roots.

Of course. What else would you do when you hide an onion in your room? I told her to put the onion in the kitchen and she did and, as she turned away, I heard her say wistfully, "Bye sweetie."

In the car on the way to camp...

Me: Why were you hiding that onion in your room?

Zeca: I don't want to tell you.

Me: Please tell me.

Zeca: I was going to give it to Miguel for his birthday.

Miguel (laughing): You were going to give me an onion for my birthday?

Zeca: Well, you like onions and this one was fresh, not from the store.

Miguel: That makes sense.

It may be sweet but no - it does not make sense. I guess it really is the thought that counts.