Package

June 23, 2016

Package

Mom came into the room with a bunch of bags (containing the usual - lightly used paper towels, lunch Tupperware and crusty bowls, crumpled magazine clippings, starchy crumbs, bobby pins, coins, Asian seed/tea/powdered grain drink mixes, Taiwanese newspaper articles, medical billing papers, cash in recycled envelopes, scribbled doodles and scraps of paper, a hairbrush or two, knitting stitch markers, receipts, stray hairs, paper clips, powder that had fallen out of the drink mix packets, assorted make-up from Target, lotion and maybe a dead gnat).

She noticed a package on the kitchen table.

“Something I can eat?”

“UPS pouches,” I replied.

She looked disenchanted.

“Nothing I can eat?”

“You’re welcome to eat them.”

“Bad child,” Mom said, and went upstairs.


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Buckwheat
Buckwheat

November 18, 2017

For dinner, I cooked buckwheat noodles to pair with spinach and broth.  Chupa found the noodles in the sink and began eating them out of the colander.

“Mmmm,” he said.

“Do you like them?”

“Mmmm, warm rubber bands,” he replied. 

Game
Game

November 17, 2017

“Want to play a game?” Mom would ask.

The game turned out to be us pinching and pulling the skin on the tops of our hands in a perpetual dog pile of claw hands.  She’d pull/pinch the skin on the top of my right hand with her right hand.  While she held the pinch, I put my left hand over her right hand to pinch her skin and hold it while she put her left hand over my left hand and pinched hard.  I’d take my right hand from the bottom, and put it over her left hand to pinch, and so on.  This game never lasted long, as Mom, smiling, would speed up the process until we ended with a big collapsed hand pile.

This game was painful and not fun, but Mom enjoyed it.  She probably had some nostalgic attachment to it.