by D. Raposa

Created on: July 07, 2009

Your intolerance of me is really quite extraordinary. Great. Granny's been watching public television again.

I changed the batteries and everything, she sighed, I sit down, turn on the tv and the damn remote conks out. Then I'm too tired to get up and change the channel by hand so I end up watching all that hoity-toity crap. Hey, look who's here! she yelled, waving her hands in the air.

I turned around to see who Granny was waving at. It couldn't be. She knew that we would be here. But there she was. Quickly shaking off a deer-in-headlights stance, she walked toward us with a smile on her face and chirped, Oh good, I was hoping to catch up to you guys.

My Mother is such a liar.

Welcome good friend. Join us in our humble luncheon. Granny offered.

Ooooh, how civilized, My Mother replied, I thought you were getting the remote fixed?

Nevermind that. Get something to eat and bring me more sugar for my coffee.

I offered to help and followed My Mother to the foodcourt pizza kiosk:

You're eating so early, she hissed, I thought I could pick up a few things without bumping into you.

She changed tactics today. Got right into it, sprinting around the store like a madwoman, coming up with beyond inappropriate material. It was amazing.

I'll bet. Beyond inappropriate? Like what?

Birth control.

Ahhh. She's evolving.

We headed back to the table, where Granny relayed news of her upcoming medical appointments with ...physicians in whose capable hands I place my utmost wellbeing. This prompted My Mother (who is also a hypochondriac) to relay her upcoming appointments, which prompted me to find solace within myself to get away from this boring discussion.

I nestled into my psychological utopia, where conversations are sane and revolve around art and puppies, not allergic reactions and anti-depressants. With thoughts of poetry and mystery, not chiropractors and black toenails and cigars they're not cigars it's a sea urchin no it's not yes it is...

What?

I snapped back to reality, tuning into Granny and My Mother's discussion. Ordinarily, I wouldn't listen to anything they say, but these two working the word sea urchin into a conversation... It's like watching a cat stalk a bird on an open windowsill - it's probably not going to end well, but you hold on to see what happens:

They look like cigars. Granny insisted.

Why would cigars be sticking out of the ground?

It could be artistic. Granny supposed.

What possible artistic merit could a bunch of cigars in the ground have?

I've seen some pretty crazy crap on public television that passes for art, Granny reasoned, You're so smart, what artistic merit could a sea urchin have?

It's Cape Cod. It's the ocean. Sea urchins live in the ocean. It makes sense.

Why would a doctor's office have a sculpture of sea urchins on its front lawn? Granny demanded.

Why would a doctor's office have a sculpture of cigars on its front lawn?

It would make perfect sense since doctors try to help people quit smoking! Granny sneered in smug triumph, daring My Mother to top her logic.

My Mother took the dare. Perhaps. But as I told you, it's a gynecologist's office.

The smirk left Granny's face. She thought awhile, trying to cook up another argument. Almost had one, but thought better of it. So she changed tactics, Well, I've never seen a sea urchin because I live in a real city and you're some kind of hippie living in a hick town....

And back to my happy place I go.

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