Smoke Goldenstein

Well, the Goldensteins have left the building, and another successful weekend is in the books.

Highlights from Mr. Goldenstein (we’ll refer to him here by his nickname, Smoke):

-seeing him in his underwear every day since Friday. I realize that this is weird. Everyone on the planet realizes this is weird, except for my dad. I wish I could tell you that all of my friends from high school haven’t seen him in his undies, but that would be a lie. We’re talking about a man who sits on the front porch in his underwear, drinking coffee, and smoking his morning cigarette. I know.

-Smoke Goldenstein discussing medical issues (this is always very educational). He has an issue of his hands and feet getting extremely cold, and then he can’t warm them up. Sometimes, this means he walks around the house in a button-up dress shirt, tucked into sweatpants, topped with a Mr. Rogers-esque cardigan, and paired with socks + wool slippers. Other times, it means he talks about how he brought this issue up to the doctor recently, and “That guy says I got good circulation in ‘em. I don’t think he knows shit.” Please keep in mind that it’s a small miracle that he even went to the doctor, because Smoke is a man who:

a) chain sawed his own thigh once

b) removed his own chainsaw-induced staples with a needle-nose pliers in the garage while my mom was at a basketball game

c) found out after chainsaw incident (in the early 2000s) that his doctor’s office has medical records back to 1987, and he had no tetanus shot on record. This is extra hilarious considering that the man is a farmer/mechanic, who pretty much has a perma-gash in his forehead

d) made my mom take the jeans he was wearing during chainsaw incident to my great-grandma so she could sew a patch over the area. It’s highly possible he still has these pants 10+ years later (I’ll check into that next time I head to his house)

-Smoke doing every chore I needed around the house, including vacuuming up the cobwebs in my laundry room (see previous post about spider problem), then clogging the vacuum, and taking the entire thing apart in my living room. Of course, this turned into a lesson for ME on how to take apart my vacuum cleaner, clean it, then put it back together. Because I’m definitely going to do that.

-joking about his (flip)phone, and telling me to ‘keep an eye on it’ every time he leaves the room, because he never gets any calls or messages. Then, the 2 times his phone made a sound in the 4 days he was here, he asks everyone if that was his. I feel like you need to know that this phone still has the plastic protective covering on the front screen.

-ordering the ‘farmer’s breakfast’ at breakfast today, because he misses being a farmer. He’s been gone 4 days.

-asking the temperature EVERY time we get into the car. And as soon as he wakes up. And intermittently throughout the day. Then asking what the temperature is ‘at home’ so he can compare the two. Then transitioning into the mail at home and how he asked the post office to stop it, so they’ll start delivering again Tuesday afternoon. And if there’s any snow at home. And how my aunt and uncle’s dog is doing at home (parents and aunt/uncle drove out together, and we hung out a lot). And if my other aunt made it home safely from visiting her daughter for her birthday. And basically bringing up home (a tiny town we’ll call Mayberry) any chance he got. Again, he’s been gone 4 days.

-his new shoes. The man owns 3 pairs of shoes: cowboy boots (his favs), brown dressy kind of shoes (he calls these his ‘sporty’ pair), and the most god-awful white Spalding tennis shoes that I think he bought at Kmart in 1993. (OK, my mom would’ve bought these horrible shoes, because he doesn’t buy anything for himself, except cigarettes and the occasional doughnut). I have been trying to get the man to get new tennis shoes since I graduated high school, and my mom has recently joined in the fight. I feel like I could probably write a whole other post on the last decade of shoe-shopping, but to make a long story short, they finally bought a pair of new tennies last weekend. Sent me a pic for my approval and everything, and I approved. This is all fine and dandy, until it comes time to actually wear them, and he refuses, because they’re new. And any weather will probably ruin them. It’s too warm, too wet, too snowy, too windy, too cold, or a too-beautiful 70-degree day to wear them. Finally get him to wear them Sunday to go watch our basketball team play, and I forget that no matter now ‘normal’ his shoes may now be, the man only wears gray socks. Gray. Socks. (Insert “Steel Magnolias” quote about gray icing here) I honestly don’t even know where my mom has been buying these dove-gray, loose-fitting except at mid-calf socks for him for the last 40 years. They’re the most bizarre socks I’ve ever seen. Anyway, really, the best option for the man’s footwear is really his cowboy boots, because he likes them and you can’t see his weird socks. Note, he bought these in New Mexico when I was in 6th grade. 19 years ago.

So there you have it. A weekend in the life of the Goldensteins. Though it was a super-busy weekend of eating, drinking, and watching my mom clean my apartment, I was also able to squeeze in watching both Father of the Bride movies.

(Video credit: YouTube user: Michael Ni)

If you don’t think this is one of the funniest movie scenes of all time, don’t bother ever reading this blog again.

Goodbye, George, see you next Thursday.

-Bev