Tuesday, January 04, 2005

Jaime y Maria

Last Thursday Mark and I went over to my dad's house for a belated Christmas celebration. It was a fun affair. The house was still beautiful and Christmassy, the table festive. Each place had its own "adult" Christmas cracker, which made me nervous but to everyone's relief the cracker makers' definition of adult seemed simply to mean "make the jokes even dumber". No edible panties popped out of mine - instead I got a very grown-up mini squirt gun.

We ate delicious Italian chickpea soup, pasta, Roman bruscetta, drank lots and lots of wine, and opened presents - awesome, thoughtful, useful presents including a renewed New Yorker subscription, an immitation Rabbit wine opener, a cookbook all about mushrooms, and a rad, red Michael Jackson-esque jacket with maybe 42 snaps. Afterwards I aged thirty years and switched genders in order to "entertain" the family by hooking my new camera up to the TV and screening a slide show of our Mexico vacation pictures. Then, we trailed out of the house and went to a bar for a beery wine chaser.

Today, I heard this story: walking home from the bar, my dad, K, K's daughter and her boyfriend approached the house of this woman Mary. My dad used to be in a choir with her and they were once good acquaintances. I don't know her very well but for some indefininable reason I've never really liked her. Turns out, K's daughter (with cause) has no excess of love for her either, and when they get to her house she says: "I hate Mary! She still owes me babysitting money!"

In response, my dad stops dead in front of Mary's house and starts shouting at the top of his lungs in his best Spanish accent (which does not compete with most people's very worst Spanish accent):

"Maria! Maria, you dirty whore!"

Apparently, he yells this several times, trilling his "r"s with glee, even as K's daughter has run away in delighted panic, and K has to physically remove him from the sidewalk below Mary's stoop. My dad had no comment on this story. Why? Because he has no memory of it at all. He just sat and grinned as K relayed it to me this evening.

Did I mention that we were drinking lots and lots of wine?

K says her daughter's boyfriend now thinks my dad is the coolest man in the entire world. I just wonder where he was when I never got my last paycheck from the icecream store.