Wednesday, November 5, 2008

and they're getting a puppy!

I am literally going to go dance in the streets today to celebrate Barack Obama winning the election. Okay, that's probably not true. But it's "story truth," as Tim O'Brien might say.

I watched the election results come in with my recently-exed girlfriend. It was a pretty good time. It was an especially good time when the results came in for Ohio. When the win was locked, she called her parents but they didn't pick up, and she said they were probably having sex and she was happy about that, but I didn't want to think about it, especially since I've met her parents, and I don't really like to think about anyone I know having sex.

And then Carlos called, and he said that he was calling everyone he knew, and that the Gringos and I were second on his list right after his parents, and that made me happy, but it also made me a little sad to think that I couldn't share this moment of history with my parents, since they almost definitely both voted for McCain. I'm afraid to even ask my sister.

It makes me a little sick to think that while I was watching Obama address that huge crowd in Chicago, tears welling in everybody's eyes, marvelling at how much everything had just changed, my parents were rolling their eyes and sighing, thinking about how their taxes were going to go up (which, unless I've been mislead by the Obama platform or by the level of my family's wealth, isn't even true).

We were talking about this: how much of our beliefs are just a personal and selfish reaction to our upbringing?

I remember a time that my family was eating at Bennigan's, and we were talking about politics for some reason. I was thirteen--just old enough to care, and just old enough to really enjoy disagreeing with my father. Canada came up. I mentioned that I thought socialized medicine sounded like a good idea and wondered why we didn't have it. My father asked me, without a trace of irony about him, why I hated America so much. The argument lasted well past the time we got home, my father closing us into the office, lecturing me about the principles of capitalism and conservatism. I got a really big headache and played a lot of guitar that night.

Would punk exist without disco? Maybe it's okay that good things primarily exist in response to not-so-good things. I don't know.

Anyway, last night I baked those sugar cookies for me and my ex to eat while we worried and then celebrated. Instead of brandy, I muddled a bunch of leftover mint leaves with some sugar and soymilk, then spooned in a lot of the soymilk. (I skipped the cinnamon and just coated them in sugar.) They came out pretty tasty--my only regret is that I didn't put more of the actual mint leaves into the batter.

I also mixed us what I called "reverse creamsicles," which were a shot of triple-sec in soymilk (because that's what I had around). Don't do it. It's a reckless idea.


Emily said...

My parents were probably depressed too, very weird to think about. My dad called this morning for an unrelated reason and mentioned in a very dejected voice that none of the candidates he voted for won. I reminded him that we are from New Jersey, and that he is the only Republican in New Jersey.

Also, I invented a drink too. It's called the Flat-Broke Margarita, and it involves limeade, really cheap tequila, and a heavily salted rim courtesy of the Morton Salt girl.

Emily said...

It was pretty fantastic. The best budget drink I've had since marrying the end of a handle of Ron Roberto rum with Jones Soda (of the Fufu Berry variety) that I found in the back of my basement fridge this August.