Of Parrotheads and fruitcakes...

Are their any Parrotheads out there? 

"Fruitcakes in the kitchen, fruitcakes on the street, runnin' naked through the crosswalks in the middle of the week. Half-baked cookies in the oven, half-baked people on the bus, there's a little bit of fruitcake left in every one of us." (Jimmy Buffet)

Yes, I suppose the truth is out now, I live in Margaritaville most of the time. But Jimmy makes a lot of sense to me in my life.

Take holidays and family events...is there any question about the fruitcakes in your life? "We all have them, we all need them, we all want them, what do we do with them? (Jimmy Buffet - about relationships)... I'll bet you have them, too.

Christmas, they all come to my house. There's 6000 presents for the kids. The paper goes flying off, that's the 11 year old girl, Carly, who has to try on every outfit she gets, struts around the room, back to the bathroom, rips them off and throws them at her mother who must try to figure out what goes with what while she's trying to pour herself into skinny jeans too small of course and rips them and wants me to send them back for an exchange - sure I will... her Dad (my son, the Chef/Musician) makes more Bloody Mary's and tries to keep the brother-in-law from getting another beer...

Then there's 7 year old Zach and 5 year old Nate... paper rips off, bows in the trash,  boxes ripped apart trying to get the damn toy out that has been glued, screwed, and tatooed in the box... Each had something special they wanted they glance at for 2 seconds, toss it aside, and on to the next,. When they're done, there's a pile of toys, all mixed up, parts missing, stuff that goes with this is now with that... why did I bother wrapping and tagging it just right???? "It really doesn't matter," says their mother (my daughter, the physicist). "They play with each other's stuff anyway." Of course they do. Now here comes the man (and I use that term very liberally) that's supposed to be their father who gathers all of the toys up, looked at or not but definitely not yet played with, throws them in a big box and scurries out the backdoor like a packrat and puts them in his van. They have been in the house a total of an hour but for him it's over, let's hurry up and eat, and go home (cause he can't drive after 8 PM - don't ask)
WHOA there big guy - this is my house (quoth Zach, "Nana is always right, Nana knows everything, Nana has a 4.0") and my rules so just go get them and bring them back ($500 worth at least and I want to see these kids get a little enjoyment out of them now without being told to calm down or shut up or worse yet, get hit and start crying) cause they are going to make a mess and play with them til their hearts or mine are content and I don't care what time it is. My other son (the non-drinker/non-smoker/no illegal drugs ever/gamer/writer) visibly tenses up for what he hopes is his big chance to flatten said brother-in-law while his significant other (the law clerk with a Psychology degree) tries to doze off in between diagnosing each child as a sociopath...(they have no kids). The father figure skurries out the door to do my bidding... and we don't care about eating, it'll keep, get on the kitchen floor and set up that hamster arena thing and let's watch them fight, play that paper jamz guitar and turn up the amp, and look out for that hot wheels crash track...Yeah, we're having fun now - Pass the Pickle!

In my family, we don't eat and run, we don't keep our mouths shut, we call 'em as we see them. One side Irish, the other Italian, we have Catholic dinners around here. We say grace before we start eating, then all hell breaks loose. We argue politics, religion, child rearing, the color of the sky, and dinner lasts 2 hours cause we're not done until half the Beatles songs have been sung and Bohemian Rhapsody in all the parts. Long live Freddie Mercury...

And this weekend?? Nate's birthday - at his house (their rules) - all must attend, watch the "men" play guitar hero at maximum decibels while the kids run around like little maniacs screaming at the top of their lungs blowing noisemakers and popping balloons waiting for the party to start! (I have to have two double Bloody Mary's on the road just to be able to be civil when I get there while hubby protests my "go cup" and the cops are gonna stop us - no sense of adventure there)... No dinner has been eaten, no gifts have been opened, no cake has been served, and it's 9 PM. And it moves right to karioke (thanks to their neighbors/friends) - ok, I'm up for that - until they decide to play (?) American Idol - most of the songs really suck, the graph line for the vocals is not at all like the real thing, nobody knows the words and I don't need some stupid machine telling me I don't know how to sing... OK 10 PM - don't you think it's time for the kid's birthday party to start??? Talk about eat and run...

Valentine's Day - just me and you (for 46 years) - take the Christmas Gift Card and add another $50 bucks to it, take off the jammies, put on a bra, go to Applebee's (smoke 1/2 pack cigarettes on the way to and from cause you can't smoke anywhere anymore) and stuff ourselves with food that has at least one day's worth of sodium content in it for me, need a wheelbarrow to get us to the car, bring half the food home so the dog won't get PO'd because she didn't get to come, and bring the dessert, too. Run, okay, walk slowly, into the house, right to the bedroom, off with the clothes, back in the jammies, drink a can of soda to get the gas moving, watch TV for 1/2 hour (his bedtime, not mine) while he moans about being bloated and eating way too much and they put something in restaurant food to make you blow up like a balloon, and I can't stop going to the bathroom... Surprise - his sugar is 300 before bed!! Get to the computer and finish the assignments before midnight - phew, now I can relax - finally. Love is wonderful.

Yes, Jimmy, I'm another pirate lookin' at 40 (been around that bend before)...

Now that's what I'm talkin' about...fruitcakes.