Oh. See?

Every time I come down to California I think it'll be with just that five minutes of stranger-ness and then the 37 years of living here will come back and everything will be comfortable again. And then five minutes turns into ten ... twenty ... three days ...

I feel like such a hick. I have to close my eyes while my parents drive because it scares the bejesus out of me. I can't even watch my mom maneuver a cart through Walmart because I'm afraid she's going to hit someone. And that's the funny part -- she doesn't hit anyone. She can go in and out of car and cart traffic without even looking and no one gets hurt, except for me, who gets worked up and worried every time she skirts around someone's backside.

My turn comes today when we get on the freeway (mom won't drive on the freeway). I usually only have to drive the second leg into Vegas, which is flat desert two lanes and only a little shifting when we get into town. This time we're meeting my aunts in Manhattan Beach and I said I'd get us there. I don't know why I said it, although I suspect it was while I still thought it would only be five minutes before I got used to things ... that was two days ago.

Side: Mom and I watched The Seven Samurai last night ("Is Kikidoodoo going to die? He is, isn't he?" "It's Kikuchiyo and I'm not going to tell you.") and she liked it. So, I convinced her to Netflix Om Shanti Om ... yeah, I may have overstepped it... But it's a musical. I figure if she can sit through Seven Brides for Seven Brothers more than once then she can handle Bollywood. Cahh ... she loves Carousel, for heaven's sake.