the Parents

I love my parents. I especially love that my dad called me tonight to let me know they FINALLY used the rest of my Christmas present, mostly due, I think, to my unrelenting harassment last time I was there. I got them a few gift certificates to some of my favorite restaurants in Portland. Maybe not the most creative of Christmas presents but a few years ago my dad asked for date ideas and I thought dinners out were way better than the items my mother had circled in her home decorating magazine. Yeah, I also love that my mother circles stuff in magazines the way we did in the Sears catalog when we were small.

So anyway, my parents finally made it downtown Portland to Mama Mia for dinner and Moonstruck for dessert. Two places I eagerly recommend to anyone. But the Moonstruck they know about (there's a much more easily accessible one in Beaverton) is on NW 23rd, the hip part of town with impossible parking. Probably why they hadn't made in downtown sooner. The parking was so bad that my father drove around the block over and over again while my still gimpified mother went inside and ordered their shakes and chocolate truffles.

I don't know why it paints such a funny picture in my head. Maybe it's because, most likely, the only reason my parents finally went there was to appease their daughter. And they went to such lengths to fulfill their present that my father drove around the same block five or six times, in a part of town where my parents definitely aren't comfortable, just to get a shake his daughter says is totally worth it. It is. But that's beside the point. I love my parents.

But isn't that what good parents do? They where funny macaroni necklaces and proudly display awkward ashtrays when they don't smoke just because their children made it. They wear, display, and go to crazy places just to make their children happy. Just another reason why I'm so thankful for my funny, oh so cute, and darling parents.