It's almost time for my annual Father's Day pilgrimage to New Jersey. I'm looking forward to spending time with Pops and Stepmother Sparkles; I don't see them often and they're wonderful, fun people. Some of our weekend activities are yet to be determined, but some things are sure to occur.
After I arrive at their house on Friday afternoon my father will ask me where I'd like to go for dinner. I'll tell him I don't really care, and he'll suggest a local steakhouse. He'll mention his favorite appetizer and suggest we split an order. I'll tell him that I don't like mushrooms but that if he likes them that much he should order them regardless. My father will then inform that I do so like mushrooms, that I've loved them since I was a child, and I'll tell him that no, no, I've never liked them as long as I've lived. He will be completely baffled by this and will commence The Interrogation. Do I like salad? Yes, I do. What about cornbread? Absolutely yes. Broccoli? Nope, not a fan. This will not go over well. How could I not like broccoli? What about cauliflower? I will tell him I don't like that either. Brussels sprouts? No, they make me vomit. He'll shake his head, mumble to himself, and eventually tell me that I'm out of my mind. I will then admit that he may be right and ask where he keeps his vodka.
From that point on my father will spontaneously shout out various fruits and vegetables. When I answer that yes, I do like that particular item he'll nod approvingly. When I say no, he'll inform me that I used to like that food as a child and he doesn't know what happened to me. At first I will tell him that I've always felt that way, but he won't have it. He'll tell me that I did so use to love boiled cabbage and that I've just got a selective memory. This will go on all weekend. Eventually I'll just shrug and say that it's probably all due to puberty and hormones. He will accept this explanation.
On Sunday he'll ask if I want some coffee and I'll say no thank you, I don't like coffee. He'll start explaining to me how I used to love it when I was younger and I'll be tempted to tell him that no, I've never liked it, but I'll think better of it and remind him of the whole puberty thing. Then he'll ask me if I enjoy reading the Sunday paper and I'll say sure. He'll tell me that he loves to do the jumbles while he drinks his coffee. I'll admit that the jumbles aren't my favorite, and he'll say that if only I liked to drink coffee I'd probably enjoy doing the jumbles too.
Around this time he'll turn the TV on and will immediately put it on The Weather Channel. He'll make comments about the climate in Tennessee and New Jersey. Then he will ask me who my favorite Weather Channel meteorologist is, explaining the strengths and weaknesses of each. I'll think about this for a little while, wondering what the "right" answer is, and then I'll give up and ask him again where in the hell he keeps his vodka.
After I arrive at their house on Friday afternoon my father will ask me where I'd like to go for dinner. I'll tell him I don't really care, and he'll suggest a local steakhouse. He'll mention his favorite appetizer and suggest we split an order. I'll tell him that I don't like mushrooms but that if he likes them that much he should order them regardless. My father will then inform that I do so like mushrooms, that I've loved them since I was a child, and I'll tell him that no, no, I've never liked them as long as I've lived. He will be completely baffled by this and will commence The Interrogation. Do I like salad? Yes, I do. What about cornbread? Absolutely yes. Broccoli? Nope, not a fan. This will not go over well. How could I not like broccoli? What about cauliflower? I will tell him I don't like that either. Brussels sprouts? No, they make me vomit. He'll shake his head, mumble to himself, and eventually tell me that I'm out of my mind. I will then admit that he may be right and ask where he keeps his vodka.
From that point on my father will spontaneously shout out various fruits and vegetables. When I answer that yes, I do like that particular item he'll nod approvingly. When I say no, he'll inform me that I used to like that food as a child and he doesn't know what happened to me. At first I will tell him that I've always felt that way, but he won't have it. He'll tell me that I did so use to love boiled cabbage and that I've just got a selective memory. This will go on all weekend. Eventually I'll just shrug and say that it's probably all due to puberty and hormones. He will accept this explanation.
On Sunday he'll ask if I want some coffee and I'll say no thank you, I don't like coffee. He'll start explaining to me how I used to love it when I was younger and I'll be tempted to tell him that no, I've never liked it, but I'll think better of it and remind him of the whole puberty thing. Then he'll ask me if I enjoy reading the Sunday paper and I'll say sure. He'll tell me that he loves to do the jumbles while he drinks his coffee. I'll admit that the jumbles aren't my favorite, and he'll say that if only I liked to drink coffee I'd probably enjoy doing the jumbles too.
Around this time he'll turn the TV on and will immediately put it on The Weather Channel. He'll make comments about the climate in Tennessee and New Jersey. Then he will ask me who my favorite Weather Channel meteorologist is, explaining the strengths and weaknesses of each. I'll think about this for a little while, wondering what the "right" answer is, and then I'll give up and ask him again where in the hell he keeps his vodka.
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