Summer salad and Rose coaches Jenny before a date

Yesterday I went on a date. On the way there, I called Mom from my magic Bluetooth car phone booth. Me (39, ostensibly an adult): I don’t want to go! Mom: Just have a good time. You’re overthinking it. Just be cool. Me: There’s alcohol involved. Mom: Drink a big glass of water. Not instead of the drink….

Berries and yogurt and Rose and Dave’s nightmare landlord

I have a cousin. Let’s call her Agata. She’s my mother’s first cousin once removed, she’s my parents’ downstairs neighbor, she’s my parents’ landlord, and she’s driving my mother around the bend, which is bad news for everyone. Agata is in her early ’70s. She’s always lived in the same apartment, since she was kicked out of…

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…