so, as you can see, i didn't manage to post from california... you can probably glean from this fact that i also did not work on my various papers. fortunately, none are due this week. somehow the presence of my family makes it virtually impossible to accomplish anything substantive. i don't know how they do this. even my brother was parent pressured into playing hooky on friday. (though this is relatively simple... you just have to utter a simple four-latter word: golf.) i did eat well and get some knitting done. i had the opportunity to see my statuesque sister-in-law with a growing baby bump. and i finally got to tour the stylish suburban casa my brother and sister-in-law call home. makes me feel a little behind the game, but i guess that's the nature of being a little sister -- nevermind that my brother was much further along the path to adulthood when he was my age. he has that innate drive to make a living wage that seems to have passed me up.
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so, for those of you who miss the presence of papa moosk in their daily lives, i thought i'd recount a bit of family conversation on the eve of "good friday." (please note: this conversation took place after moosk and parents sat on a plane for over eight hours arriving at their hotel at what would have been 2am ET.) my father, the paragon of tact, asked my brother & sil, "isn't good friday supposed to be the day that jesus died?" response: "yeah." dad: "well, that sounds pretty sh*tty to me. whey do they call it 'good friday'? shouldn't it be 'sh*tty friday'?" and my father doesn't say things quietly -- he says them for all to hear. and if he thinks that what he said was funny, he will repeat it over and over again. and he thought this was funny. meanwhile, the rest of us were scanning faces to see if anyone around us was sending evil karma our way.
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