baggage's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Anatomy of a Decision There is hard. And there is easy. Easy: ice cream, kissing, hugs, chocolate, music, reading, picking your nose in the car. Hard: rock climbing, working on Saturdays, keeping mouth shut, paying over $2 for unleaded, looking at George Dubya. Deciding where to take your Dad for a father's day lunch? Sounds easy. That is-until Mom steps into the viewfinder. My father's culinary tastes are simple. The man, like me, is Asian-so he's generally happy with food so long as it comes with that delectable, white, sustenance of perfection: rice. Yes-give us rice and you're halfway there, baby. But, mom, is a different story-the wrench in the spokes, the tear in the fabric, the hole in the wall, so to speak. *Where did you want to go?* she asks. *How about that Japanese place Dad likes...Something-Something Garden,* I suggest (all Asian restaurants have to have the word Garden in their name. It's the law.) *Well, maybe we could try something different,* she says. OK. Fine. I'm a supportive son. I do what I'm told. I wash behind my ears. I don't wonder why Mom is making this decision when it's FATHER'S DAY for God's sakes. *How about Mimi's Cafe?* (Girl-Unit and I love Mimi's Cafe. It serves a wide variety of food and is decorated in a lovely foufou kind of dealy-surely fulfilling the *something different* requirement my Mom just threw out). *American food? Ugh!,*Mom says. *But, it's not just American...,* I start to say before I'm interrupted with that flat, unyielding tone of voice that I haven't heard since I asked for permission to spend the night at Jimmy's house back in 1983: *No.* The conversation continues. Crabby Bob's? *No.* Claim Jumper? *No.* La Tapatia? *No.* OK. At this point, I had two choices: keep playing this little game with my ever-loving Mom or kill myself. Luckily, Dad picked up the phone before I could plunge my newly sharpened number two into my chest. *Hello? Hello? Are you using the phone?*-Dad yells into the handset-which obviously IS being used since he's hearing a conversation in progress instead of a dial tone. Before Mom could answer I asked Dad where he wanted to go for Father's Day. *What about that Japanese place we like...Something-Something Garden?* he said. Mom was oddly silent. *Great!* I said-exhaling my relief and saving the sharpness of my number two pencil for the illustration I should have been working on. I ended the conversation as quickly as possible, said my bybyes ,and hung up-leaving Mom silent, and Dad jubilant at the thought of the Crab Rangoon looming in his future. Seems that Dad and I can communicate after all. 2:54 p.m. - 2001-06-13 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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