[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
[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
[Car proud, car envy. But so much more! New to these serial pages? Catch up, part I & part II].
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“But she’s so self-righteous about it!” Avrum claims, and gets all incensed at my eye-roll. Yes, eye-roll, “I am not! That’s bullshit!”
Too easy.
Not to generalize but, in my experience, those who drive Teslas tend to portray themselves as, how to put this kindly, planetary saviours? They could be racing down the road, tossing fast food wrappers out the window as they go, rolling over endangered turtles and knocking spotted owls from the air and still claim the mantel of climate warrior. My Other Car Is A… Are you f’n kidding me? What other car?! Continue reading