Kayleen Grows In Brooklyn

I was in Dallas a few days longer than planned because of the blizzard in New York and the general disarray it caused for airplane travel. This allowed me to torture my dad by making him take me to dinner at places where they actually make you wait for 45 minutes before they give you a table (I see this as a good opportunity for a glass of wine at the bar; he sees it as insane) and to watch Grey Gardens with my Mom (who is exactly the person this movie should be seen with, Mother Darling). But the best accidental happening was that I got to go to Starbucks with my mom to buy today’s issue of The New York Times. Everytime I tell my mom I have a piece in the Times, she goes to Starbucks to get it because that is the only place that sells the paper in Grapevine. Even though I wrote for the Times for about four years, my dad would never subscribe. To Details, a pretty gay men’s magazine? Sure. But to a commie pinko liberal newspaper? Never. And my Mom’s still not a huge believer in the Internet, so off to Starbucks she went to read my story about nailpolish or whatever. I always liked hearing about these excursions because, yes, they’re mostly about me, but it also felt like we were sort of doing something together. So being there today while she read my very important piece about mascara was really nice. Thanks, Mother Darling.

I was in Dallas a few days longer than planned because of the blizzard in New York and the general disarray it caused for airplane travel. This allowed me to torture my dad by making him take me to dinner at places where they actually make you wait for 45 minutes before they give you a table (I see this as a good opportunity for a glass of wine at the bar; he sees it as insane) and to watch Grey Gardens with my Mom (who is exactly the person this movie should be seen with, Mother Darling). But the best accidental happening was that I got to go to Starbucks with my mom to buy today’s issue of The New York Times. Everytime I tell my mom I have a piece in the Times, she goes to Starbucks to get it because that is the only place that sells the paper in Grapevine. Even though I wrote for the Times for about four years, my dad would never subscribe. To Details, a pretty gay men’s magazine? Sure. But to a commie pinko liberal newspaper? Never. And my Mom’s still not a huge believer in the Internet, so off to Starbucks she went to read my story about nailpolish or whatever. I always liked hearing about these excursions because, yes, they’re mostly about me, but it also felt like we were sort of doing something together. So being there today while she read my very important piece about mascara was really nice. Thanks, Mother Darling.

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