Wednesday, March 05, 2008

Uncle Freddy

There is no way possible to explain to you how hilarious I think my family is. I have always thought that we should have our own TV show. My dad is funnier than Heathcliff Huxtable. My mom can run a household better than Claire and my siblings...well, we were a cross between the Cosby kids and the Evans from GoodTimes. Toss that together with the backwoods of north Louisiana and you have yourself an Emmy nominated #1 sitcom!

Anyway, we went to Jamaica last spring and my parents and my grandmother (Momee...I'll tell more about her in another post) flew out of Monroe, LA and I flew out of Baton Rouge. We would all meet up in Atlanta and fly together to Jamaica. Well, my BFF Holly and I were having a conversation on the way to the airport and somehow we got onto the subject of Uncle Freddy's (my dad) footwear of choice. Anyone who knows my dad, knows that he LOVES to wear sandals. His logic behind this choice of haute couture footwear is due strictly to comfort and not just "to show ya'll how to dress your feet". He only wears one pair until he wears them out and then goes on a nationwide quest to find another pair. My uncle once sent some from California and is currently looking for a pair in D.C. I think he has bought them before in the midwest and on the east coast, but never have I heard of a report of my dad buying new sandals at home. His sandal purchases are as carefully planned out as a new vehicle purchase. order...wear until the buckles fall off.

Well, as Holly and I continued talking, I told her that I could GUARANTEE that my dad would have on socks and sandals at the airport. She couldn't believe it. She could not comprehend that my father would wear his trademark sandals AND socks to travel in. Oh, how naive my beautiful BFF is. See, what I know that she doesn't know is that Uncle Freddy is a slave to fashion and he is committed to style and coordination no matter the cost. Not only would he wear the socks to the airport, but they would surely match the pants he would have on. Of course, being the prophet that I am, I told her I would confirm my foreknowledge with a photo as soon as I met up with my folks at the ATL airport. She laughed. I laughed. I got on the plane.

Fast forward an hour or so to the Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International Airport. I caught up with my folks somewhere in the D concourse I think. As we all exchanged greetings and sat down to enjoy the layover, I remembered that I had an important matter to attend to. After fumbling through my purse for a moment, I whipped out my camera phone and in a stealth move, snapped a couple of quick picts.

Gray pants, blueish-gray socks, and sandals. Just as I predicted.

Holly - 0, Anita - 1

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