Midnight snack in Chicago and one day with Rose and Dave

I arrive at O’Hare late Wednesday night after 10 hours of travel from San Francisco. Dad picks me up at baggage claim. His first topic of conversation, after greeting me, is everything he’s posted recently on Facebook. Dave: I sent SJ (SJ is my provider of intercourse for, lo, these past eight months) a message. (What Dad means…

Pulled pork and coleslaw and Day 2: Rose and Dave

Mom and Dad discussed my blog. Mom said they decided for revenge they’re going to backpack across Italy and talk about where, when, and how 74-year-olds have sex. (I think this idea is AMAZING.) Although THIS blog makes them uncomfortable in all kinds of new ways, Mom is referring to my 2012 blog (long since hidden)…

Dad’s hummus and Day 1: Rose and Dave

Three hours ago, Mom and Dad picked me up at O’Hare International Airport in Chicago, Illinois. On our way into Evanston, I sat in the backseat of their two-door Ford Focus and furiously typed everything they said into my phone. One thing to know about my mom: She abbreviates EVERYTHING. For example, within three minutes, she…