Email from my dad:
"I enjoyed your blog on Ho Chi Minh City shopping; but your health tips are a sign of adolescence that is unbecoming of a person of your years..."
(Ed. note: ouch)
"...Your body is your temple and should not be treated as a sewer for sweets. Go to your health care provider and get a complete blood count to assure that you are not having systemic breakdown. You may have had a virus running through your system. Also, instead of Ben and Jerry's pick up a thermometer and use it..."
(Ed. note: I'll tell him where he can put his thermometer)
"...You do write well although I wish you spent more time with "The Economist" than your current reading fare.
That last sentence reminded me of a scene from my childhood:
Interior - parents bedroom, 11 yr old me brushing out freshly curled hair, before a piano recital, as mom rummages through closet and dad sits on bed, putting shoe-trees in his shoes (or whatever it is old people do with their shoes).
DAD: You know, kid, if you spent as much time on your schoolwork as you do on your hair, you'd be a damn sight smarter.
11 yr old Me: But I wouldn't be a damn sight.
And then my dad just started sputtering/laughing and saying "Sue? Sue? Did you hear that? Did you hear what she said?"
And yet he still thinks I would appreciate a subscription to "The Economist".
I would if they had a September Fashion Issue.