My JooJooBee —

I took my mother up to the Santa Ynez Valley (wine country) yesterday for an early Mother’s Day.

She likes wine. No, she likes drinking. She gets very giggly when she’s drunk.

(I guess I take after her. I’m a happy drunk. When I drink too much, everything’s funny.)

You can only really get anything out of her if you’re sitting and talking with her.

So it’s good to spend the day with her like this alone once in a while.

She loves it up there, tooling around in the winding backroads, the vines and the hills and the wines.

We visited a couple of wineries and it was… Well, people use the phrase “a perfect day” a lot.

If they have never been here, they wouldn’t really know: this place is a long pour of perfect days.

After wine tasting we had dinner in town, a wine country Italian spot that everyone loves.

Here’s where it gets interesting.

The waiter came up to our table.

He gives this long monologue describing all the specials. It was detailed and dramatic and delivered perfectly.

(I had the pork chop special btw. God damn good meat.)

Anyway, the waiter went to other tables and gave the same speech.

My mom giggled.

We’re about 2 (maybe 3) bottles of wine into the day at this point.

I hope I can describe this well.

My mom starts to giggle, more.

She’s hopping up and down a little bit in her seat.

Then tears start to come out of her eyes.

Then she’s giggling even harder.

Then she covers her face with her hands, both hands open.

Then she really gets overcome, tears are streaming now.

I’m not sure if she’s laughing or crying at this point.

I’m not sure she knows if she’s laughing or crying at this point.

Then she covers her face with her cloth napkin and really lets go.

I have no idea what to do.

I really can’t tell if she’s laughing or crying and it’s coming hard.

And not stopping.

I’m a little panicked — because if she’s crying, why is she crying?

I have no idea so no idea what to do.

By this time, other tables are starting to look at us.

I don’t give a shit. I’m not embarrassed, just worried about her.

This goes on for a bit, then subsides.

If you had seen it, you would have thought she deserved an Academy Award. I mean it.

I have never seen her do that.

I have never seen anyone do that, in my whole life.

Except maybe in a movie.

Later on the way to the car she apologized, worried she embarrassed me.

I told her I wasn’t, I wasn’t at all, I was just worried about her.

She confessed, she couldn’t tell if she was laughing or crying either.

She said, it was watching the waiter deliver his speech over and over again that had started it all.

I think you can see it as clearly as I do.

You couldn’t make up a better scene.

(Well you probably could.)

She will kill me if she finds out I told you this so don’t tell.

I wish you could have seen it.

I wish you could have been there.

I wish you were with me.

Soon, soon.

I love you my beautiful girl.

— Your Fortune Cookie

P.S. I wonder if I should try writing essays?

P.P.S. I would probably just pretend I’m writing to you.