It's one of the huge blessings in my life that both of my parents are still alive and that I get to see them as much as I do. Score! Yesterday they called and asked if I wanted to meet them for lunch at the Fashion Place Cheesecake Factory.
MOMENTARY CHEESECAKE FACTORY DETOUR! OK, I kinda don't get the Cheesecake Factory. Whenever I go there, I feel like I'm eating at a Roman coliseum, because everything there is so huge. The doors! The bathroom stalls! The ceilings! I feel like a little person extra in the Wizard of Oz there. But whatever. My parents are suddenly all about the gi-normous Cheesecake Factory.
Anyway, the Coach and I snagged a booth and waited for TRQ, who was returning something (shoes perhaps?) at Nordstrom.
"Okay, while your mother's not here, I'm supposed to bring something up with you," the Coach said in a solemn voice.
Wow. What could be going on? Was somebody sick? Financially ruined? Going to prison? What was I about to hear?
I girded my loins. Or whatever it is people do with their loins at times like this.
"What's the matter?" I asked.
"Your hair," he said. "I'm supposed to tell you that certain people in the family don't like your gray hair and maybe you should think about doing something different with it."
Then he sat back in his booth all relaxed, message successfully delivered.
Seriously. I love my parents.