I Do Not Hate... On the Garden State.

I was awoken Sunday morning to the familiar sound of a text message from somebody named Iobiadmin@Verizon.com. For some reason my otherwise tech-savvy mother hasn't quite mastered texting from her ACTUAL cell phone and has thus resorted to downloading some crazy program onto her Compaq Presario in order to alert me of family happenings without having to bear the sound of my Sunday hangover 'yes-there's-a-half-naked-man-laying-next-to-me' voice.

On this particular morning, she inquired if i was planning on coming home for the day. The only thing on my agenda happened to be pretending i might actually go to the gym and then at 5 o' clock announce that i had forgotten it closes early and "Oh well, MAYBE TOMORROW!" So i heaved myself out of bed, washed off last night's mascara and headed to Port Authority. Ohhhhh NJ Transit, how i've missed you so!

Whenever I visit my parents, I know i'm in for a full day of culinary excellence! This is especially important when the only items left in my fridge are honey mustard and moldy vegetable cream cheese, and so i tend to make the journey at least once every 3 to 4 weeks.

When I walked in the door, Dad was waiting in the kitchen munching on his typical pre-luncheon snack of microwaved hot dogs on potato bread. Then, the oh-so familiar topic of where to go for lunch. This is how the conversation went. This is how EVERY conversation goes. Mmmm, how I love going home.

Me: "Well, i've really been craving Indian..."
Mom: "No way, Jessie!"
Dad: "What about that new Thai restaurant that opened? Don't you like Pad Thai, Ellen?"
Mom: "I don't like Pad Thai, Marvin! You know what it tastes like? It tastes like Spaghetti with ketchup on it! Doesn't it taste like spaghetti with ketchup, Jess?
Me: "Umm... well, not really. I like Thai. What about that brunch place? The Turning Point? Let's go there!"
Dad: "No, i don't like it there! It's too feminine. All of their dishes are just too feminine! Portions are too small, and we have to wait. Ugh, no Jessie. You can go there without me."
Me: "OHHHHHKAAAAY. Chinese?!"

I don't know why we didn't just decide this in the first place. It is a Winston family tradition to consume Asian on Sundays, and I don't know why I would've assumed anything different.

So off we went to Hunan Gourmet. Dad turned on his navigation for the 12 minute drive down route 9 to the restaurant. I think he has a secret crush on the woman with that sexy robotic voice, which tends to be a bit more pleasant than my mother screaming "MARVIN!!!! NO!!! turn THERE!!!! Can we stop?? I have to pee AGAIN"
I don't really blame him, but I do find it pretty unnessary to use navigation when visiting a place you know how to get to. This is very confusing. Sarah has actually started doing it, too. Weird. I don't understand! I don't need navigation.... I just use taxis!!

As some of you may know, my sister Sarah got married in the fall of 2006. My mom has a severe obsession with everything-wedding, which in turn has influenced me to either become asexual, elope or at least just marry a non-jew as to avoid the situation entirely. I thought it would be a LONG, LONG time until any talk of wedding in the Winston home would resurface... but boy, was I wrong.
Turns out, Emily and Elinor are moving back to New Jersey and are planning their Civil Union ceremony!! While Em never struck us as the wedding type, she's decided that
A) She needs Elinor's health benefits
B) Nana pays the big bucks for marriages/babies/bat mitzvahs
C) Any excuse to stuff your face and drink heavily on my parents bill is A-OK with her.

We're all pretty excited, Mom especially since she is 100% positive the wedding is going to make it into the New York Times wedding section.
Jew finds same-sex love with non-Jew? Check
Met on an Ivy League fencing team? Check
1600 on the SATS? I'm sure that magical fact will somehow creep its way into the article...as per usual.

As I stuffed deliciously greasy chicken chow fun into my mouth, I imagined Em walking down the aisle wearing a vintage 1991 Abercrombie sweater, faded ankle huggers and her old, crusty Doc Martens with the laces coiled up like the old days at Lake Bryn Mawr Camp. She'll chop her hair especially short for the occassion, even though we advised her otherwise, and will ask if i wouldn't mind blow-drying it for her.
Elinor might spice it up with a brightly colored vest, her Cornell sweatpants and some loose pigtails arranged on either side of her head. We'll dance the Hava Nagila while their African Gray and Cockatoo flap around above our heads and their 3 cats nap in the corner by the cake. When the wine bottles are empty, we'll beach ourselves on the couch, Mom will whip out her calculator and we'll count their hard-earned money. I can't wait!

In other news, Dad has been mistaken for a senior citizen! Apparently, he visited McDonald's last week for a cup of coffee, and was only charged 45 cents!! He asked if they were having a special sale on coffee, only to find out that's the cost for the oldies community. Awww Marv, i still love ya! Perhaps you can pass along the discount to your broke-ass daughter?! Pretty please?
Additionally, he's taken on a new client who actually found a mouse in their Wendy's chili. Be warned!!!

I spent the rest of the afternoon at ShopRite with my mom, grabbing whatever looked expensive and delicious and tossing it into the wagon without regard. When I returned home, I ransacked the cabinets for shampoo, conditioner, shaving cream and many other essentials to ensure I wouldn't have to pay for them myself at good ol' Duane Reade! I shoved my goods into a monster sized duffel bag, gave a few farewell kisses and headed back onto the bus...but not before Mom could give me some leftover white meat chicken breast from Shabbat dinner Friday night.
"You need MORE protein, Jess!"

Thanks again!!