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| My mom called me early this morning to recap my dad's birthday dinner last night.
Your dad enjoyed himself, didn't he? Especially after two martinis, ha ha. It was nice to go to a restaurant so no one had to cook. Wasn't the steak delicious? Then she slipped in the real reason for the call. "How much did each of you have to pay?" "Mom! I'm not telling you that!" "Why not?" "Because it's TACKY for you to ask! Just accept that we paid for your dinner." "Well, how much did you pay? I just want to know." "No, because if I tell you, you'll try to pay me back somehow. You'll stick it in my purse or something, and I don't want you to do that." "Well...one of you is gonna tell me." "Oh, so that's why you called? To get that out of me? What, have you called everyone else already?" "No," she said defensively. "I've only called you. I thought it would be best to start with the cheapest phone call and work my way up." "God mom, you are obsessed. Just obsessed." Last night we offered up a toast to my dad before we ate dinner. "Happy birthday, Dad!" my sister said. "Cheers!" Before we could begin clinking our classes, my brother-in-law piped up from the other end of the table. "And here's to 80 more!" We all paused to look at him. Finally I spoke up. "That was kind of a weird thing to say." |