Thursday, May 03, 2007


I was supposed to go see 110 in the Shade starring Audra McDonald with my grandmother today. Unfortunately McDonald's father died recently. Normally you'd get an understudy, but apparently McDonald is a big enough star that they just cancel the show and let you switch the tickets to a different date. So I just went out to dinner with my grandmother at a Mexican place called Iguana where we go from time to time because she gets extra air miles when she pays on her American Express. And she gets to speak Spanish with the waitstaff. Except this time around our waiter didn't speak Spanish so she was out of luck. Also, she considers a dinner incomplete if we don't get dessert, so the good desserts there are a plus.

I was not totally looking forward to this dinner though, because I didn't call her on her birthday. And only one of my cousins did (thus getting tons of brownie points he totally doesn't deserve). She was out of the country and I don't like leaving messages on answering machines enough to call when I know someone's not going to be home. So she waited for me to call and when I didn't she called to say, "I noticed you didn't call me on my birthday. But that's ok...I know you love me anyway. [Etc. etc.]" You know the stereotypes about Jewish mothers and grandmother's and their expert guilt trip. Yeah, my grandmother is pretty much the embodiment of that. Unfortunately she had the misfortune of getting saddled with children and grandchildren who refuse to be guilt-tripped.

As it was, it wasn't that bad. She made sure to mention in many circuitous ways the lack of birthday calls, in between telling me about the biography of Victor Amadeus II she just read among other things. I pretended obtuseness on the birthday subject and was actually interested in the rest of it, so it was a nice evening.

I forgot (as usual) to call and let her know I got home safely. In a few days she'll call me and when I answer the phone she'll say, "Oh good. You are alive!"

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