cimorene

Yesterday I made my Mother's Day phonecall before my parents were home from their Unitarian Universalist potluck. My 18-y-o sister answered the phone instead. We chatted a bit and then this happened.

SIS: Mom's home!
CIM: I hear the commotion.
SIS: And she just walked in with an animatronic pirate. It's like four feet tall.
CIM: ...She what?
SIS: It's dressed as Jack Sparrow, but it's like a plastic skeleton and it's got this necklace of skulls. I think it dances.
CIM: So... it's like a tacky Halloween decoration?
SIS: Looks like it!
CIM: ...Why?
SIS: I don't know! I've never seen it before! ...She seems really excited.
CIM: So, what, you're on your way home from church on Mother's Day and you're like, 'You know what I really need to make this day? An animatronic pirate!'
SIS: I guess so.
[Conversation about animatronic ninjas excised for length]
SIS: Hey, mom! Want to talk to Cim?
MOM: Hi, sweetie!
CIM: Hi, mommy! I wanted to call and wish you a happy Mother's Day, but it seems my call was superfluous since I hear you've already acquired an animatronic pirate today, and obviously after that your day can't get any better.
MOM: No. Well, maybe a little bit better. A call from you was probably the only thing.

So then I found out that my mom is suffering from severe carpal tunnel even though she never uses the computer ("From drawing probably," she explained, "or gardening," thus making me completely terrified to use my hands for anything), and that the pirate belonged to some lesbians she knew at church, who used to keep him on the patio and dress him in seasonally-appropriate outfits for parties ("Last weekend we were there and he had a sombrero and a margarita"), but were going to get rid of him because they are moving to a smaller house. So he's really a rescued animatronic pirate.

My parents: I couldn't make this stuff up.