Wednesday March 7. 2001
me and my mum
I walked into the kitchen to find her trying to open the bottle of White Zinfandel she had brought with her. "Do you have a corkscrew?" she asked, hacking at the cork with a knife.
"No, I don't think so..."
"I could have sworn I gave you one..." she stopped hacking and began rummaging through the drawers.
White Zinfandel is the Rusen family wine. I can't remember a time when there wasn't a box of it wedged into a corner of our fridge. Whenever my friends were over, they would stare in disbelief at the box of wine, left exposed for the taking. It was just always there, it never occurred to me to drink it, because I couldn't stand the taste.
I went through my jewelry supplies looking for some sort of corkscrew-type implement. No luck. I went back into the kitchen, she was still hacking at the cork.
"You going to let it fall in the bottle?" I asked.
"Yeah, just watch out-"
The cork popped and the wine splattered all over us, the cabinets, the sink and floor.
I got out two small glasses for us. "Something bigger?" I asked her.
I poured the wine and we settled down to watch Erin Brockovich on my new laptop. About halfway through, I got up to get a Pepsi, and when I came back, I noticed my wine glass was empty.
"Did you drink this?" I asked her.
She looked at me innocently.
We arrived at the Convention Center early the next day for the Philadelphia Flower Show. I'd forgotten just how massive the Convention Center was, the entire complex (including the Reading Terminal Market, Hard Rock Cafe, and connection to the Market East station and Gallery Mall) takes up about three square blocks.
I did end up being a little disappointed with the Flower Show. I'm not exactly predisposed to flowers and gardening to begin with, but multiple displays of carefully arranged flowers and plants and trees could only hold my interest for so long. I did find a couple things interesting. One category had the contestants interpret a movie title by using miniature flower arranging (I liked A Clockwork Orange the best). The bonsai were also beautiful, but there was a lot of kitschy stuff that looked like it belonged in a really bad craft show, and a lot of little blue-haired old ladies to complete the picture. I did end up getting a little cactus to add to my collection (I have a black thumb, the only plants I can't seem to kill are cacti). My mom had read in the paper that it took 5 to 7 hours to see the whole show, but we got out of there in just over two hours.
We lingered outside the main auditorium, looking at the high vaulted ceilings of the Convention Center, admiring the lavishly decorated carpets and the view of Arch Street below.
After we got back to my apartment, we were both so tired we just fell asleep - her on the couch, me on the loveseat. Like mother, like daughter. We were only woken up by a phone call from my Dad wondering where my Mom was. Soon after she left, and I felt strangely lonely. It occurred to me recently that I haven't been home in over two months - probably the longest I've ever been away from home, ever. I think I'm going to go home this weekend, because I want to paint a portrait of my Mom for my painting class.
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One Year Ago:
This entry comes across as incredibly snotty.