The COVID Diaries: Dinner with Boomers & Zoomers, or Bueller. Bueller. Bueller.

Hello Darling Ones,

Thank for indulging my toxic loneliness yesterday. I felt much better after writing about it and getting those feelings outside myself.

Much as I suspected, despite my negative attitude, dinner with The Youths & The Olds did my heart good. It also did my heart dirty, and I’ll get to that in a minute.

First, I have to tell you that my nephew, Maxwell, walked in carrying a giant poinsettia.

“Is that for me?” I asked.
“Yep, he said as he put the red beauty in the dining room with the rest of the Sadness Garden. “Nobody wants them anymore, but I knew you would.”

He was not wrong and I have already named the poinsettia Ponyboy Curtis.

As we were eating dinner my mom kind of looked around. “You got a lot of plants.”
“Yes,” I said. “You’ve seen most of them before. I’ve had this tree for you years.” I pointed at Trevour, the lemon tree. “But these are knew.” I showed her the two tiny jars holding the toothpicked avocado pits that look like spaceships. I’m trying to grow avocado tress. “It’s my Sadness Garden.”

She shook her head at me and my dad laughed.

I love when The Olds & The Youths eat dinner together at my table. I like seeing them interact. Last night my dad told Max, a hockey lovers, a story about taking his mom (Sister #2) to a North Stars game. At the game, I guess, a hockey stick landed on the floor where she sat. Sister #2 picked it up and tossed it back over the glass where Dino Ciccarelli scooped it up and waved to her. Watching the two of them talk hockey made my heart glow.

Then I decided to impress the hell out of all of them by naming all the Canadian NHL teams that I could remember. Sometimes I like to show off.

And I needed the win, because earlier in the discussion Max was talking about all the things he was making in the cast iron skillet my parents got him for Christmas. My dad talked about how great cast iron is if you treat it well. Max said he was doing a pretty good job of keeping it well-seasoned and he wouldn’t let anyone else touch it.

“Do you just rub it with a diaper?” I asked.

The table went silent.

“Are you supposed to?” Max asked.
“Uh, no,” I said. “It’s a Ferris Bueller reference*. Cameron’s dad rubs the Ferrari with a diaper.”

There were blank stares all around from the Boomers and the Zoomers.

It hurt my bitter, slacker GenX heart. Still does.

Jodi

*Yes, I make a lot of Ferris Bueller’s references. Same with Heathers. Also Almost Famous. And High Fidelity.

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