Hobbitus Giganticus

A lot of the affection in my family is expressed through food.

For instance, I'm staying at my folks house, and go down to breakfast to find waiting there enough food to feed a small army (or perhaps a family of Hobbits). My mother immediately launches into a catalogue of all that's available: "There's oatmeal with raisins on the stove, and some bacon. I can make you some eggs if you like. There's also homemade cinnamon bread on the counter and biscotti in the cupboard. The water is hot if you want tea. Do you want some toast? I can make toast...." This, by the way, is all said in a single breath with no room for comment or response.

Within hours of this repast, my parents are taking us out to lunch at a Chinese restaurant. While my mother complains about the "heavy metal" music they've selected to play (actually some kind of Chinese techno dance music), my father's fortune cookie informs him that he needs to get in touch with his feminine side. I have Monty Python-esque visions running through my head.

We return home and, after a long nap (I was doing homework--no rest for the wicked), we had a "light" dinner of bean stew and squash, with oatmeal cookies for dessert. There is always dessert. Dessert is it's own food group in my parents' house.

I invited my parents to watch 3:10 to Yuma. I don't know why. I should know better by now. I keep suffering under the delusion that my dad likes cowboy movies. Also, watching any movie with my folks is an exercise in futility. My dad can't always hear the dialogue and my mom keeps up a running commentary to explain everything (most of which is wrong) or to inject her opinion (most of which is negative). The finesse of finely crafted dialogue and the subtlety of human interaction is completely lost on them. If it's not written for a 5-year-old, either sweet or historical (preferably both), and have a happy ending, they want none of it. Which basically leaves one with the choice of Rogers & Hammerstein or Disney. (Not that there's anything wrong with that).

I have come to the conclusion that they must be Hobbits, or some distantly related branch thereof. (Doesn't the family name "Kleine" mean "small" in German? Hmmmm.) Adventures meet with stern disapproval, or at minimum perplexity, and the answer to just about every problem is a good solid meal.

Ah, well. We may not see eye-to-eye about a great many things, but at least the food is always good.