Heartwarming Homecoming

I arrived home in old Manteno yesterday night. I'd forgotten what life in Bessman House was like.

Mom is making dinner and we're talking about TV shows and these are her feelings. She is now watching reality TV solely because she wants to see someone die. She has stopped watching shows without mortal danger. Her favorite show at the moment is Everest, because she's really sure an actual person (not a character) is going to freeze to death or fall off a cliff or something equally horrible and she's really looking forward to it. Morbid.

This is the woman who is my hero. Or nemisis. Its hard to tell. She's ridiculous. She is thinking of getting her masters degree. Apparently, she's found this "executives program" where you can get your masters in one year by taking classes only on Fridays and Saturdays. Your tuition includes catered meals and sometimes drinks. Come on.

But all this frivolity means one thing. The return of Cinderabby. Yep, Mom mentions that there's a cookie exchange tomorrow.
Abby: Oh I suppose that means I'm baking cookies?
Mom: Its not so bad, look what I have!
Mom pulls out a bag of chocolates.
Abby: That's not cookies.
Mom: But you can make the thumbprint cookies with chocolatre in the middle.
Abby: Can they be peanut butter cookies?
Mom: Sure.
Dad: You might have to buy peanut butter.
Abby: Yeah, like there are any cookie ingredients in the house.
Mom: Oh that reminds me, we also have to bring food.
Abby: I'm betting the 'reminding' part of that is that all the food is still at the grocery store.
Mom: See? She does remember what its like here!

Home sweet home.

Mondays are Mondays and that stinks.

Yes, its true. I've got a case of the Mondays.

Nothing particularly exciting happened to me today. I did wear my new shoes though. Which is pretty fun. My english teacher said they were like Dorothy's ruby slippers, but if you click your heels together you say "There's no place like Clemson, there's no place like Clemson." She's a funny lady.

Apparently Mom and Dad are the ones in my family that have all the excitement. Oktoberfest this weekend, big fat greek wedding, jury duty, presentations about China... all the fun- er, something like that.

The weekend passed without any breakups. Thats a feat lately. There was a car accident, because the moron-patrol can't go a week without a wreck. I think we're up to 4 this semester. (We're calling my roomie's boyfriend's gang the moron-patrol. They earned the nickname. Trust me.)

My mondays were compounded by the fact that I've got a boring week coming on. No tests, very little homework, no real plans... I may spend the whole week in bed. Because I can. Mwahahahah.

-Abby

A Map of Mexico

Yesterday I downloaded the pictures from my camera. I'd taken pics of Dia in the First Friday Parade. As it turns out, its been quite a long time since I emptied the old camera and there was something great there. The map of Mexico my mother and I constructed in a Starbucks.

Late one afternoon Abby and Mom are out shopping, one of our many last-minute whirlwind do-everything adventures. This kind of quest requires lattes. So we hole up at Starbucks. The chattering is mile-a-minute non-stop. You know how our minds work, we're always up to something. The conversation turns to our brewing plot to escape to Mexico for New Year's. There is a lot of debate as to the best destination.

As mom tries to describe the pros and cons of the many vacation destinations of Mexico, it becomes apparent that my meager knowledge of Mexican geography is not sufficient. We need a map. If we were children in the playground we'd sketch in the dirt, but we're children in a Starbucks. So I empty my purse and this is what came out:

I added the labels so you can better understand this highly sophisticated map.

The final decision is Cancun. Book your tickets, everyone is invited. Party Party with the Bessmans.

My Mom is the Best

IM convo with my mom:

Abby: did you know the carolina game is on thanksgiving weekend???
Abby: i'm upset
Mom: no, but you will be in Vegas baby. I'm sure you can bet on it
Abby: thats really all thats keeping me from slipping into a deep depression
Mom: well, that is what alcohol is for

She went on to encourage me to elevate my facebook stalking to live stalking. Brilliant.

I was raised so well.

Love you mommy.

I just want to see one more person 46 it.

All the Bessman women have made it home from Spain. We only had to sacrifice one ham to get back into the U.S.

While there are many heartwarming tales of humor, joy and strife (most to be retold in the coming days) I'm just going to recount one quick one before I crash.

This very day the mum, sis and I found ourselves wasting time in the Madrid Airport. We took up residence accross the way from gate U46. On the row of chairs directly behind us there is an elderly woman recieving some unprofessional medical attention. Spain is on summer hours so real medical attention is silly to even think of. Suddenly a younger woman comes sprinting up with some sort of supplies. It seems the old lady tripped on her way off the moving sidewalk and did a header into the floor.

Now not 5 minutes after the old lady has been hauled onto another moving sidewalk a younger woman heavily weighed down by backpack and tote and such things does a flying, sliding bellyflop coming off the moving walkway. She must have travelled 6 feet horizantally. It was amazing.

So we spent the next 40 minutes waiting for another spill. There were a lot of close calls. Tripping, stumbling, good saves. And so the phrase forty-sixing was born out of the fun (at the expense of others) had at gate 46.

Classy Chicks.