I tell you this because, despite finally embracing the joys that are steak and Old Navy, my parents are still at heart hippies. They love living in Canada, with its liberal views and recycling Nazism. They have a rain barrel and my mom still sews her own curtains, and my dad performs gay weddings. They talk about the US like it's a crazy abusive embarassing relative who is no longer welcome in their home, despite the fact that they were both born and raised there and that Jellybean and I live there still. They sign petitions and write letters about injustices in the world, and cook with tofu. There's still a bong or two somewhere in the house.
And if I have to feel someone else’s pee splash on my downstairs one more time, I am going to lose my mind.