I'm really into sleeping in the mornings lately. The only problem is, half the day is gone now. Having said that, I don't really sleep at night very well. The weird dreams and deep sleep happen after about 7am. So, I like to sleep from 7-11 am. That's good stuff.

This morning I was woken by the phone, I decided to get up and get it (since most telemarketers don't do Saturday mornings). It was my dad, checking to make sure we weren't so unfortunate to have drowned in the basement during recent dramatic storms here in Seattle. No, we're fine, the power is back after a 17 hour hiatus, but truth be told we have down comforters and coffeeshops nearby with free wi-fi, so it all works out. After a bit of chitchat, dad asks if I remember making a request of my mother - the one where I said I didn't want that chicken thing that she does. I was super polite, far more than she would have been, and sweetly asked if we could skip the chicken breasts covered in Cambell's cream of mushroom topped with thick onion slices that never cook and cheese. Because I didn't care for it. In our family "I don't care for that dish" translates to either (from me) "I find it revolting", or (from my mother) one of two things... 1) "I perceive it will make me fat" or 2) "I perceive it will make me fart". My mother is nearly 80, so at that age I think farts have lost their humor to anyone, and blaming it on the dog becomes sad.

Anyway. So, my dad asks if I remember making a request about mom's "traditional chicken". And would it be ok with me if she made it but used some other kind of soup. Doing my best (read: not being able to at all) hide the incredulity I was experiencing, knowing how it would have been if the tables were turned, I said "that's fine, you know how it would be if she had said the same thing, but she's reached the age where she can do anything she needs to, that's fine, I will certainly be able to find something else to eat that night. I will also buy her a cookbook of easy chicken dishes for Christmas." To which my dad says he doesn't like the attitude. To which I reply, "the price of that chicken dinner being on the table while I am there is this attitude. Sorry. We are only there for a few days, and if she really MUST make that, fine. But I will not eat it. I hope to god it's not Christmas dinner, that would be revolting."

This was being said in the calmest voice I could manage. I'm also pretty sure my dad asked so that he could shield my mother from the answer. Which really only made me more riled up. Had mom asked, I would have had a nice conversation about all the other things which taste good that she is capable of making, those which do not contain cream of mushroom soup.

Anyway.

Mr. Man is down at Crate and Barrel shopping with his gift certificate, he's in search of a waffle iron so we can make waffles this morning. YUM. Bless him. He is truly a gem, I can't say that enough. To the extent we partner with people who are like our parents (and I find that frightening, but also true) he and my father are both very very patient men. And B. is incredibly selfless. I get my stubborness from my dad (we always talk about this, and he always denies it).

I just truly hope that when I'm 80, B. doesn't have to call our son and ask if he can handle cream of mushroom soup in the Christmas menu.