After the Ritz

After our 3 nights at the Ritz, we drove back to my parents house in picturesque Melbourne Beach and spent a week there. We all loved being with them and as usual, I spent most of the visit selfishly trying to convince them to come live with us. Of course, they would never give up their beautiful home on the Indian River where they watch dolphins frolic daily to come back to New York and the cold winters. I couldn't help but try though. After all, have you ever seen me frolic in a shopping mall?

There are many parts to their charm. They are beyond generous, painfully considerate, and a comedy tag team in their own right. A perfect example is the day Mike and I were taking the kids to Disney World. My dad held up a map and started to tell me the directions. He barely got 3 words out before my mother interrupted him. As she was talking to me, my dad had taken a magazine article from the drawer and was waving it in her face. Apparently, they had just read that people who frequently interrupt others are more likely to have heart attacks then their polite counterparts. My dad thought it would come in handy and saved it for just such a time. It did no good of course. She kept on talking even as the article was hitting her in the face. You see, she's a Jewish wife. Jewish women have their right to interrupt their husband written into their wedding vows. It's right up there with the vow to consistently make restaurant reservations for dinner. Luckily, after 55 years of marriage my father is relatively immune to all of it.

With my luck my parents will finally agree to live with me when they are sucking their meat through a straw and my mom has lost the will to interrupt my father. Something tells me they would still be wonderful to have around. I would just have to get my mom one of those motorized carts so she could still shop at a steady pace and keep up with me. No biggy!