On Life as a Sarcastic Fringehead

A mini-frag.

Parker has an aunt, one of her mother’s four sisters, who lives about 500 miles north. I’m digging that in the days of almost instant transport, we are driving there. Unannounced. Like in the days before the telephone and shit. Parker insists this is the way of her family. No need to call first and be invited or anything. And, hey, if you drive for ten hours and you get there and this woman happens to be on a cruise off the coast of New Zealand for the next three weeks, then, hell, we’ll just visit someone else who may or may not have the information we just drove ten hours to get. I’m not sure why her family works this way or, more to the point, why Parker thinks her family works this way, but I’m a passenger in a luxury vehicle being driven by a beautiful human being and I’m along for almost any ride she’s navigating. Just so we’re clear: my family? Call first and we still won’t be home when you get there. We’re fucked up in that way.