I'm back from a fun weekend with my parents. Their neighbors threw a retirement dinner for my father, which was good fun. The weather was fantastic, and there was much car-washing. Trip back was some kind of record; not much traffic, and the music kept the speeds tempo clicking along nicely.
Though I must say Connecticut continues, and probably ever shall be, a big pain in the ass.
During the pre-dinner cocktails on Saturday night, one of the daughters of the hosts, a firecracker of 11 or 12 (we'll call her G), was hanging around, bemused by the grownups and skewering their strange rituals. For instance:
People were taking photos (and by "people" I mean my parents), and after someone had taken a shot of me listening intently to a conversation, G burst out laughing and asked me "Why don't you smile??"
"I *was* smiling," I claimed, knowing that I probably wasn't.
"Noooo, you just looked, like, [makes long, frowning face]."
"Well, I was *kinda* smiling."
"[Giggles, more funny faces]"
"[Funny faces, vague protestations in response]"
This went on for a bit, until it was clear to both of us that I didn't have an answer.