rex's holiday memories: thanksgiving 2006
First, let us begin with a random sampling of paraphrased things we learned from Mrs. Camino’s chainsmoking grandmother yesterday:
1. Cows are stupid.
2. You can’t ever really know what an Asian person is thinking.
3. Not all Mexicans cross over into Texas. Many of them just walk across the bridge into Sacramento.
4. Babies will steal your calcium and leave you a withered old woman.
5. She still doesn’t understand why we haven’t “begat” her any great-grandchildren yet.
6. We had to be thinking of the Spanish-American war because there was no such thing as the Mexican-American war. This came as news to my brother-in-law’s Mexican wife.
7. Santa Ana was still a bastard.
8. Most of your big band singers were either Jews or Italians, except for Bing Crosby. He was Irish and that's why he stayed drunk all the time.
1. Cows are stupid.
2. You can’t ever really know what an Asian person is thinking.
3. Not all Mexicans cross over into Texas. Many of them just walk across the bridge into Sacramento.
4. Babies will steal your calcium and leave you a withered old woman.
5. She still doesn’t understand why we haven’t “begat” her any great-grandchildren yet.
6. We had to be thinking of the Spanish-American war because there was no such thing as the Mexican-American war. This came as news to my brother-in-law’s Mexican wife.
7. Santa Ana was still a bastard.
8. Most of your big band singers were either Jews or Italians, except for Bing Crosby. He was Irish and that's why he stayed drunk all the time.
9. Donkeys these days are lazy.
This was our second year to pick up Mrs. Camino’s grandmother and spend a pleasant half hour car trip with her to Thanksgiving dinner. Last year we put her in the back seat and didn’t talk to her much aside from trying to derail her dissertation on how short and ugly Mexicans were, but this only led to a year of complaining about how we ignored her, and that is just the sort of thing that gets one bumped from the will. So it was that we placed her in the passenger seat this year with her asthmatic Pomeranian in her lap and the window rolled down enough for the longsuffering dog to feel the wind on its face but not so much for it to leap out of the window into a desired separation from its owner. I even compiled a list of conversation starting questions on our way there, though Mrs. Camino only used about one and a half of them during the course of our trip:
1. What’s your favorite thing about me?
2. Have you ever seen a Bigfoot?
3. Can you be absolutely sure that cranberries don’t feel pain?
4. Do you love Satan as much as we do?
5. What would be a reasonable price one could expect to pay for a donkey?
This was our second year to pick up Mrs. Camino’s grandmother and spend a pleasant half hour car trip with her to Thanksgiving dinner. Last year we put her in the back seat and didn’t talk to her much aside from trying to derail her dissertation on how short and ugly Mexicans were, but this only led to a year of complaining about how we ignored her, and that is just the sort of thing that gets one bumped from the will. So it was that we placed her in the passenger seat this year with her asthmatic Pomeranian in her lap and the window rolled down enough for the longsuffering dog to feel the wind on its face but not so much for it to leap out of the window into a desired separation from its owner. I even compiled a list of conversation starting questions on our way there, though Mrs. Camino only used about one and a half of them during the course of our trip:
1. What’s your favorite thing about me?
2. Have you ever seen a Bigfoot?
3. Can you be absolutely sure that cranberries don’t feel pain?
4. Do you love Satan as much as we do?
5. What would be a reasonable price one could expect to pay for a donkey?
Mrs. Camino used the first of these to derail a World War II reminiscence that made an ugly turn into a dissertation on Asians, and her grandmother’s favorite thing about Mrs. Camino, after considerable thought on the matter, is her curly hair. Her favorite thing about me is that I don’t talk much. Mrs. Camino was later able to work in a question about the relevance of donkeys on the modern farm when her grandmother noticed a donkey staring at her from a field, but the worth of the donkey was never actually discussed.
posted by Rex L. Camino at 8:03 AM
9 Comments:
Wow. Reminiscent of the aunt in the National Lampoon "Vacation" movies, but much worse. I think you & the Mrs. maybe qualify for sainthood for two years in a row of it!
Drink a beer immediately.
It might ease the memories of your Thanksgiving.
Another helpful hint from newscoma.
"3. Not all Mexicans cross over into Texas. Many of them just walk across the bridge into Sacramento." This is absolutely correct!
I was gonna say, Lynnster, that the grandmother's first name must be Edna and ask Rex if he was hoping she'd die so they could stick her on top of the car.
Even more perfect! And I believe Newscoma is missing an Edna...
I have thought about this post several times now since I first read it. Poor Rex and the Mrs.
[wipes tear from eye]
Man, that was touching. I see a career in greeting cards for you in your semi-retirement.
:) lol
.
We've thought about sticking her on top of the car, but the problem with doing that while she is alive is that she would give her dissertations to anyone within listening distance any time the car is stopped or moving slowly past a captive audience. We can at least contain her within the car.
However, the one good thing about having her at family functions is that a great deal more alcohol is provided and consumed.
The secret is to get moderately "smoked up" so that the trip becomes somewhat of a religious experience.You know,like a conversation with Buddah,or Captain Kangaroo,or some other great thinker.Make it work for you,you could uncover the secret to the universe.
I would like to know what anon is smoking...must be some powerful stuff!
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