10/14/06 8:43 a.m.

Laying in my twin bed in what was my high school bedroom.  I’ve retreated here after spending ten minutes having breakfast with the parental units around 7:30 am.

“Rick!  Did you pack the cooler yet?  Char, you gettin’ up? We’re leaving in about a half hour,” my mom called from the top of the stairs.  I was sleeping soundly in the dark quiet of my subterranean bedroom. My mother has no capacity to keep quiet in the mornings, nor any sympathy for those who sleep later than her.

“Terri! Where’d you throw my blue jeans, huh?” Rick, a.k.a. my dad, yelled back in response, not hearing her question and mirroring my mom’s morning volume, only he was standing right outside of my door.  

Time to get up and spend thirty minutes together, I guess they wanted me to know.  I padded up the stairs in a pair of burgundy waffle knit shorts (eighth grade pyjama bottoms) and my worn in army green Stellen Pavement t-shirt, both items resurrected from my old dresser.

 

“I made you a fruit salad!  Welcome home, honey,” my mom said, pulling a tray of bacon out of the oven.  “Did your dad pack the cooler? I gotta get changed or I’m gonna be runnin’ behind,” she said to no one in particular.

“Char-layyyyy!  What’s up, little one, I didn’t think we’d get to see you this weekend, since you’re so busy gallivanting with your friends,” my dad greeted me from the counter, drinking coffee and eating fruit salad.

“Of course I’m going to see you, Dad.  You and Mom are the ones who are going to be gone tonight.”

“Well, it’s not like you came home at a reasonable hour last night, honey,” my mom replied, adding a playful jab.

“Mom!  I didn’t even land until 10!  You two were asleep by then anyway.”  I took a bite of banana, strawberry, blueberry and green grape from a beige bowl with salmon pink trim.

“We’re just teasing.  I gotta get changed. Rick, grab my saddle pad on your way out, will you?”

“I already put it in the truck.  Where you going tonight, baby girl?” my dad pulled me over to give me a big hug.

“Mmmmm probably The Blind Pig…”

“Ah.  The usual.  What are you girls doing beforehand?  Rammin’ the streets?”

“I don’t know.  It’s not even 8 a.m.”

“Well, have fun.  We love you. Don’t drink and drive.  See you next time, sweetheart, I hope for a little bit longer.”

“Dad, I’ll be back.”

My mom breezed through the kitchen, carrying a pair of lace-up Justin boots.  “We gotta go, Rick. You ready?”

“Yep, I was just about to tie my lucky bandana around my neck and head down to the truck.”  My dad rose and the happy couple marched downstairs toward the garage, my mom chattering on about today’s team penning instructor’s credentials.

“Bye Char!” she yelled from the bottom of the stairs.

I picked up both of their breakfast dishes and put them in the sink.  Last one to rise does all the clean up, I guess… I find two advil and go back to sleep, happy the parental engagement is done for the weekend…