October 2nd, 2010
Me: Dad! Dad! I got the job!
Dad: Good! Congratulations! Where are you going to be working?
Me: Well, the office is in Queens, so I'll be commutting to--
Dad: How much will you be making an hour?
Me: Eleven dollars, but--
Dad: So, nine without taxes.
Me: Nin--
Dad: And how are you getting there? You have to think about your gas, and your tires, and how much was the toll accross the Verrazano?
Me: I don't know, but I--
Dad: It's eleven dollars.
Me: ...
Dad: Yes, eleven. How much gas did you spend getting there and back?
Me: About... two gallons?
Dad: So that's another five dollars. Eight dollars for the Outerbridge, and another eleven for the Verrazano, and then five dollars for gas... how many hours are you going to be working?
Me: It's part time, so about twenty a week.
Dad: At nine dollars an hour. And you have to think about lunches, and clothes, too. And since you've got a job now, you have to go and look for a better one. Oh, and make sure that you work on losing weight.
My Brain: Oh! Oh! I know how to play this game! Don't forget about your student loans! Two payments each month, now! So... you'll be in the red!
Me: ...
Dad: What's the matter? Why are you so upset? Your parents are here to help you out. It's not like I'm going to throw you out in the street just because you've got a job now.
Gainful employment is not so gainful. So, yeah, it's not like I'm going to be losing as much while this temp job is going, but I still wanted to put money away. I... I just don't know, now. If it does become a temp-to-hire, then I know how I'm going to take care of the commute (get a monthy bus pass and a Metro Card. It comes out much cheaper if I'm doing 9 - 5 M - F that way) and argue that I need more money, but then there's the thought of time. Well, let's cross those bridges when I get to them.
So, it's gotten cold all of a sudden (Oops), and that means that it's soup making time. Usually, I lie in wait until my mom or grandmother makes chicken soup and then down the stuff until I feel ready to explode. This time, however, feeling inspired, I decided to make my own. It also had the awesome side effect of warming up the house, so now I'm not so cold.
My grandmother acted as supervisor, and going around the kitchen and getting things while I was chopping/dicing. In the middle of all this, my dad comes down to make brunch for himself and my mom. This included sacrificing one of the chicken breasts I was going to use for the soup. My grandmother decides to escape (our kitchen is pretty small).
So, I'm chopping vegetables and chicken, waiting for the water to boil, and my dad is also darting around the kitchen making salad and broiling the chicken breast. And then he goes and uses my now-boiling water to make a soft boiled egg for my mom. (Yeah, I know that it's a good use of time and space, but that means that I can't thow in the chicken for the soup until the egg's done. And you can't bring along the fox with the chickens or else he'll eat them, and you can't bring the chickens over with the wheat or else...)
As the soup's going, I take periodical sips of the broth, to see what needs to be added. Every time, the broth seems...off, so I go and add something else. First time, it was salt. Next, tumeric. Once the soup had a chance to boil for a bit, it tasted pretty good, but it still needed something. By this time, my grandmother had reentered the kitchen.
Me: I think I added too much tumeric. Everything's all yellow.
Grandma: You're not supposed to add tumeric. Add oregano.
Me: ...?
Grandma: Every time I make soup, I make sure to add oregano.
Sure enough. that's what it needed. It's a running gag, by the way. Every time my cooking tastes off, a bit of oregano fixes everything.
In other news, I think I'm going to do that Thirty Days of Gaming meme. If only to have more times to post icons with Ashelia B'nargin DalMASca!