A snapshot of life at the Spatula home.
It's snowing outside.
Molly is sleeping, half on her dog bed and half off. She's cradling the cavebaby and probably dreaming about a field full of dead hummingbirds and Cheetos.
My mom is in her reclining chair. She has holes cut in the toes of her slippers (for ventilation), and is wearing pajama pants and sometimes just an undershirt and sometimes a regular shirt. At varying intervals she stands up, takes off half her clothes, and goes "Watch out people, I'm having a power surge." Hot flashes seem like no fun.
My dad is reading "The Ultimate Bathroom Reader" while sitting in his recliner. For some reason the Bathroom Reader never makes it to the bathroom but always sits by his recliner where very often at night he sits and reads it like it's the latest Dale Brown book. Every few minutes he goes "Lemon pledge has more lemons in in than Countrytime Lemonade" and my mom, in between fanning herself and checking the thermostat obsessively goes "Huh, that's interesting" which in turn causes him to go "And, mosquitos are attracted to the color blue" which then elicits the response "Well, I'll remember not to wear blue during mosquito season anymore."
It's neverending, world without end, amen.
Now we're going to go play Trivial Pursuit 90's Edition and I will solidly stomp both their asses into the ground for about the ninth night in a row. My dad will get all the questions regarding Wonderbras, Jennifer Love Hewitt's breasts, and hip-hop culture. My mom will get all the questions about world capitals, Communist bloc leaders, and international politics. I will be the only one who was even remotely in tune to pop culture enough in the 90's to have even the slightest chance of winning.
I love my family. My parents are the best parents in the world, and no matter how quirky they are, I just wouldn't have it any other way.