[Today: a birthday bashing. New here? part i, part ii, part iii, part iv]
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Between dad’s sulking, largely noncommunicative, like an eight year-old we were making eat his peas, and Avrum, sulking and noncommunicative, like, well, Avrum—
“What the hell did you want me to talk about! She was basically sucking up all the oxygen around the table.” Continue reading
We’re out on our thrice-weekly walk and Elsie talks of tyranny. The tyranny of our modern technology specifically. The tyranny of her wearable step counter to be even more specific.
“I’ve just let it go,” she tells me, in the spirit of one who’s freed a wild animal from captivity. “I refuse to let it dictate the course of my day anymore.” Continue reading
[The saga of sorts continues, part i, part ii, part iii. Follow along in order but not necessarily.]
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With our drinks ordered, Dad fell into a quick funk which was not at all a usual state for him. Dad did not possess an into a funk kind of personality. If he did, he kept it from us all these years. Beverli Lee, the object of dad’s unsubtle ridicule, took it more than in stride. She buoyed up into chipper mode, relentlessly carrying the conversation, talking about anything other than Teslas. Continue reading