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First, I love my pink sweater, and thank you all for agreeing it out-garished my Christmas tree.
Second ... I realized yesterday that it constituted a vote on the "nature" side of Nature vs. Nurture. Why? Because my father wanted to be in the competition with me and the Christmas tree. He told me so last night. His outfit of choice: the red wool sports jacket and pants with matching/clashing kelly green polyester shirt he wore off of the plane, complete with royal blue "Nutcracker" tie. Yes, it made my eyes burn. But seriously, this fascination for looking heinous - I think it may be genetic. We both get so friggin' proud of ourselves when we're offending every fashion dictate known to man. It's kind of scary.
Time last night with Papa seemed to go fairly well. He of course enjoyed Piecoras (he insisted on getting a half-anchovy pie for himself - not that we wanted to share), and he seemed very much to enjoy House of Flying Daggers, as did we all. (The ending was a little schmaltzy, but it was a lovely movie, though not as good as Hero. Two things struck me, though: ( Spoilers )) Papa was only sporadically entertaining the whole of the Cinerama during the movie, and afterwards charmed us all by announcing that his airplane seat had been so tight that it inhibited peristalsis. Go, Dad!
After returning him and my brother to their car, I decided that I could not live without seeing![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
butterbee one last time before ... well, January tenth ... and I had received her Christmas present in the mail and simply HAD to put it in her hands before she got on the plane. So back shadowdaddy went to our house and off I went to get her and her boy and their five pieces of luggage (my call "Do you need a ride to the airport?" got his "best phone call EVAH" rating) for the slog down to SeaTac. Yes, you heard me right, I volunteered to drive her to the airport. In Christmas traffic (maybe it was solstice traffic last night, it sure was extra-crappy). And I've shared my raspberry truffles with her, when I had only one. It's true, I'm whipped! Anyway, it was nice to see her one last time, and if only I'd managed to get in bed before midnight I'm sure I'd be feeling much better today, as I move on to today's parental adventure, Lunch with Dad ... at Work!
Second ... I realized yesterday that it constituted a vote on the "nature" side of Nature vs. Nurture. Why? Because my father wanted to be in the competition with me and the Christmas tree. He told me so last night. His outfit of choice: the red wool sports jacket and pants with matching/clashing kelly green polyester shirt he wore off of the plane, complete with royal blue "Nutcracker" tie. Yes, it made my eyes burn. But seriously, this fascination for looking heinous - I think it may be genetic. We both get so friggin' proud of ourselves when we're offending every fashion dictate known to man. It's kind of scary.
Time last night with Papa seemed to go fairly well. He of course enjoyed Piecoras (he insisted on getting a half-anchovy pie for himself - not that we wanted to share), and he seemed very much to enjoy House of Flying Daggers, as did we all. (The ending was a little schmaltzy, but it was a lovely movie, though not as good as Hero. Two things struck me, though: ( Spoilers )) Papa was only sporadically entertaining the whole of the Cinerama during the movie, and afterwards charmed us all by announcing that his airplane seat had been so tight that it inhibited peristalsis. Go, Dad!
After returning him and my brother to their car, I decided that I could not live without seeing
butterbee one last time before ... well, January tenth ... and I had received her Christmas present in the mail and simply HAD to put it in her hands before she got on the plane. So back shadowdaddy went to our house and off I went to get her and her boy and their five pieces of luggage (my call "Do you need a ride to the airport?" got his "best phone call EVAH" rating) for the slog down to SeaTac. Yes, you heard me right, I volunteered to drive her to the airport. In Christmas traffic (maybe it was solstice traffic last night, it sure was extra-crappy). And I've shared my raspberry truffles with her, when I had only one. It's true, I'm whipped! Anyway, it was nice to see her one last time, and if only I'd managed to get in bed before midnight I'm sure I'd be feeling much better today, as I move on to today's parental adventure, Lunch with Dad ... at Work!
