Mom and dad blog

Just now

Mom: I don't get it. Apart from political correctness, can you explain to me why you won't have kefir? You were raised on it. In [the countryside outside of St. Petersburg where my parents went on weekends] when you were little, there was one cow for the whole village. And a goat.
A.: The kefir you're having now isn't from a cow in a village. It's probably from a factory farm...
Mom [continues to go on for about half an hour about cows in villages.]

She breaks to complain about the president and how she can't believe that her friend who voted for him could be such an idiot. Then she asks me whether my political correctness would permit me to have coffee.

***
When I was merely a vegetarian, either parent occasionally threw in a dig, and certainly some of their friends would engage me in spirited argument over how it was pointless or misguided--and occasionally tried to "tempt" me with a non-vegetarian food--but my parents pretty much accepted it as the state of affairs. There were, of course, conversations like the one that happened last night, where they would argue with me over whether something was vegetarian:

Dad: We have this soup [in a carton].
A.: It has chicken broth in it.
Dad: Nah, it doesn't taste like chicken broth.
A.: And yet, chicken broth is first in the list of ingredients.
Dad: Shrug.

It's gotten worse, though; being vegan, I have to renegotiate every single food.

Dad: We got these mushroom pelmyenyi [turnovers, actually] at Trader Joe's.
A.: They have cream in them.
Dad: Can't be a lot of cream.
A.: They also have gelatin, so they're not even vegetarian.

Mom: You must try this.
A.: I don't eat that.
Mom: You won't at least try it? It's heavenly.
A.: I've had tzatzike before.
Mom: Where?
A.: I don't know. In Greece and Turkey, for example? At every Mediterranean restaurant before I stopped eating dairy.
Mom: It's so good.
A.: [Shrug.]

I noticed a small bag of shitake mushrooms on the counter.

A.: Why did you buy shitake mushrooms? You wouldn't stop complaining about them when I made (miso) soup with them instead of the mushrooms you gave me.
Mom: Please! What an absurd thing to complain about.

***
Mom: That hairstyle ages you.
A.: It's not a hairstyle.
Mom: Then what is it?
A.: It's a way of keeping my hair out of my face.

***
Oh, the Fox News.

***
Mom did try really hard, cleaned up before I got here. The guestroom was passable (unlike last time). Mom was really glad I noticed how nice and neat everything was.

Dad again tried to explain electricity to me. I sort-of started it:

Dad: What did you do earlier today?
A.: Everything. Cleaned thoroughly. Called my gas company to reject a lock-in rate for natural gas.
Mom: Why?
A.: Because natural gas prices are going nowhere but down for the foreseeable future.
Mom: Isn't that a good thing?
A.: That's complicated, but in terms of residential pricing, the point is, why lock in a higher rate?
Mom: How do you know prices will only go down?
A.: I work on energy-related issues.
Dad: That article you sent me--has that generator been produced yet?
A.: I'm not sure, it's just something I came across at work. [Yes, that's the kind of thing I come across at work now. Dad loves it.] I don't entirely understand it.

So dad starts telling me about generators and potential and stuff. I listened, understood what I could... which wasn't much.