It’s a hard rock life

So my parents went to visit my sister last week, then followed it up by going to Maine and visiting my cousin for a few days. Along with mixed stories of food, family, and weird tourists they came back with other surprises.

Firstly, let me say this. I got to give the “bitch please” face to my mother. She turns to me and goes, “Oh your dad loved how his pictures turned out”. What? I spent a good 20 minutes on that damned Kodak machine at CVS cropping, color correcting, and gold eye fixing. It turns out that Kodak machines don’t have gold eye removal. That and Rich’s eyes were closed most of the time. Eric can attest, I was on the phone declaring to all the people at CVS (I’m still learning “cell phone voice”), “Oh My God, White People Taking Pictures” or something to that effect. Eric laughed too when he heard my father took the credit.

Okay where was I? I’m going to ignore the Florida trip for a second and go straight to Maine. My parents came home with Lobster (nice), Jewelry (what? Apparently they found a store they like and visit there every time), and rocks. ROCKS? I woke up this morning to my mother washing rocks. She said that she was using it for her bird. Jesus, which bird? The one she bought at Disney that’s on top of some amethyst-like rock. Okay… but that doesn’t explain why a) Dad got rocks and b) You got rocks on morning walks.

Oh no, I’m going to wake up and my house will be filled with rocks. I guess this is what Eric fears. He’s going to wake up and random tsotchke will be dangling from a string attached to the ceiling. He flashbacks to my dorm room days (which was like 3 months ago, why am I making it sound like it was a year ago) where things like Chef Gusteau and the cute Duck Spirit from Spirited Away dangled from my loft. I swear I only did that because I could. And hey, a Chef Gusteau worked like the voice of consciousness, where Remy really was talking to himself.

So these rocks are now showing up in my house, some claim to be good luck, others just look pretty. It makes it sound like I interviewed several of them. I probably should, then I would weed out some of the bad rocks. I already warned my mother not to toss the rocks into the fish tank or else she will contaminate and kill the fish. Technically speaking, I still think there’s a little bit of soap in the water.

My mom shows me one rock. It was about the size of an avocado. She goes, “This one’s good for hitting someone over the head” and laughs. I contemplated grabbing it and hitting myself with it, but I realized my hell would probably be filled with rocks. And a lot of clumsy-inducing items. I’m already too clumsy.