I must have been in Junior High when my mom became a Diet Coke addict. Since then, the brew has held an important place in our family, and will no doubt gain it's own twig in the family tree.
One night when we were out to dinner my brother Chris declared, "I'm concerned about the stranglehold that Diet Coke has on this family." It was true. My mom was known to hole up in her bedroom with a bag of microwave popcorn and a two-liter and watch marathons of Law and Order. This may still occur today, but since I am no longer living at home, I can't prove it.
Several weeks ago, my mom came through my front door, sweaty and hot. "I just walked TWO MILES to your house," she said, "because I am turning over a new leaf." I was impressed. "Now I need a big drink." Thinking she meant water, I got down a glass for her, but she went straight to the fridge, opened it up and pulled out a Diet Coke. A Diet Coke that was in my fridge because she put it there so she could have a stash at my house. "Really, mom? Diet Coke? Really?" I asked. As she closed her eyes and took a sip she replied, "I can only do one thing at a time."
Then, a few days ago, as we barrelled down the road in my parent's RV, she sat down next to me at the table with a bag of chips and said, "I think I will have...three...cokes today. Yes. Three." When she was on her second can I said, "So that's two then?" "No. That's one and a half."
Stranglehold? What stranglehold?