07 January 2013
618
R. Linda:
Ahhh, me first story of the new year! First and foremost I be on medication. Lots of it, so if this letter does not meet the rigid standards and requirements of Emily Post or even Elizabeth Post for that matter, it be the fault of me brain being influenced or temporarily overtaken by the wonders of the pharmaceutical industry.
I be not in the throes of the flu (I had me flu shot), but instead I be sporting a cold which be an annoying case of sniffles causing me to be sneezing me fool head off as if I had bad allergies. I should have been over this days ago, BUT it be not me fault . . . no no it be the fault of me sainted mam.
It started after a culinary disaster the day before which left me the next morning shuffling into breakfast in such a deep fog I forgot me manners and did not utter those two words expected of me, "Good morning!" No, I don't usually communicate with any coherence unless I've had three cups of joe, so this behaviour was me norm. But to me dear old, grey-haired, apple-cheeked little mam, it was not decent behaviour when one was entertaining "guests."
I reckoned after all those years of yours truly growing up in the family abode back in Newry, this behaviour would be nothing new. But no, no, me Mam had forgotten I be not a 'morning person' and so was quite ruffled over me walking in acknowledging no one but the coffee pot.
To fix this situation, she leaned across the table as soon as I had seated meself with me cuppa and shouted "GOO MERNIN' DARE GABRIEL" like I had a hearing deficiency. This as you might gather, rankled and put me body into a shivery dance at being startled, with me nirvana of the gods being slopped all over me saucer. Me eyes wide, I'd wished her one back but mumbled and that got me a "WOT DID YA SAY DARE GABRIEL?" I tell ya.
"Lookit ere' mam, ye don't haf ta wish me a good mernin' every day because it isn't a good mernin' until I've had me cups of joe and find I be still a part of da human race. So just let it goo will ya?"
Looking into her own cup she addressed her coffee, "Well, I brought ye oop better n' dat. But if ye haf da need ta unploog den okay." And she shrugged.
Now I have not heard the word "unplug" since the 80s but well we are talking me mam, so the idea she used a hipster term about electronic devices we are all so "plugged" into -- at first did not register. So while I be sounding that word off in me head, she was muttering on, "I knoo ye haf a busy life ye doo, and ya don't feel the need to be civil in the mernin'," and the muttering faded out.
But this time me poor unawakened brain was stuck on the word "unplugged" and so I muttered it and said, "Reminds me of corporate American and the regimented life of bein' in a suit and tie. Oh well." Why did I say that? No clue, but you would think I hit me own mam by the way she looked taken aback. Tonya catching this and being slightly more awake than meself jumped in and said something that had to do with nothing.
"Oh my dad felt that way and so he would relieve the corporate stress by going camping."
Yup, all movement stopped, no one said anything and all eyes were on Tonya. "My mom would say her idea of camping was not staying in a five-star hotel." And she giggled. No one else did, the expressions on faces were more like, 'Were you going with this?' And if that wasn't enough she did keep on going. "So some years ago, I guess my dad "unplugged" as well from his "plugged in" life as a minion of corporate stress. As soon as Christmas was over he was thinking of retiring, so during Christmas week (which he had off) he decided to pretend he was retired to see if he liked it well enough. But like Gabe here, he caught a cold and spent most of his vacation in bed. Which for my mother was a good thing by the time they got to New Year's Eve." And she stopped, but I couldn't let her stop so I asked why that was a good thing and of course ever eager to accommodate she went on with this: "Well, he called off the annual New Year's celebration, but my mother was not going to have HER New Years Eve interrupted, so she got a cheese fondue and served him that. She neglected to inform him (with his taste buds so overwhelmed by medicine) that the fondue he was eating had blu cheese in it, a cheese he detests, but she loves. Only my mom!" And she giggled again, not seeing the wide-eyed stares around the kitchen table. "SO then about two hours later she makes a large tray of nachos, chili, onions, peppers, cheese, and salsa and God knows what else she threw in there and THAT certainly cleared my dad's sinuses!" More laughter as we all forced a chuckle and looked at each other like WHO IS SHE? "Yeah, she was tired of fondue year after year so she got her nachos in there. Ha ha ha. And to keep him from doing a bad impression of Dick Clark, much like your son does every New Year's Eve, they watched Fawlty Towers, something they hadn't done in twenty years! They never saw the ball drop because she kept the DVD going, so no disrespect to Dick Clark, God rest his soul." And she sighed. "Anyway," she started up again, startling us, "my brother came over the day after New Year's Day and insisted enough was enough, dad needed to go out in sub-zero temperatures and shop until he dropped and maybe have a bite of lunch. Dad came home laden down with sale items and his cold was heavier than before. So everything he had undid, he redid by that stupid shopping spree." And she shook her head in wonder at how stupid men were. And that was it. We were looking at each other like OK and the point of all this is? I covertly shook me head at Tonya (who was studying her coffee in remembrance not noticing the looks), and mouthed to me olwans, "Ever since she hit her head after that fall she took she hasn't been right." What fall you ask? No fall, it just sounded good at the time and the parents nodded so they accepted her slightly brain-damaged behaviour on a completely fabricated explanation. What can I say? They are Irish, they believe in faeries, so they will believe whatever you tell them, no explanation necessary.
Since we are on the subject of men's stupidity and taste buds that were damaged, me own mam threw me under the bus with an inappropriate comment of her own that had nothing to do with ME going out in sub-zero temps to shop. No, she had not gotten over a certain gift I got from Policeman Percy. Yesss, that party me da threw on Christmas Eve (see 25 December 2012, We had . . . Christmas chicken), Percy was thoughtful enough to bring me a present. It is a Mason jar loaded with cherries and steeped in moonshine. The jar had been on the kitchen counter and Mam was hot to get her hands on a cherry or two. So a few days ago, I walked in for me 100th cup of tea and she convinced me a fermented cherry would help me cold. I was like WHAT? She went on about the benefits of vitamin C. I decided to try a cherry or two after being told of the wonders cherries hold for optimum health. Yes, I was lied to, but I had bought her assurance hook, line, and sinker after being quite miserable for a couple of days, completely forgetting what liquid the cherries had been sitting in for months if not years.
Mam's added suggestion I should try the cherries since over-the-counter meds didn't seem to be helping sort of had me curious. She being me mam, I thought she knew best. Well, she didn't. I got hold of the jar and I asked her if she'd like to try one. Well, adventurous as most Irish women are, she sat down as I twisted off the cap and spooned out a cherry for her and a cherry for me.
The cherries looked lovely, yes indeed.
We both looked at the red orb that seemed to ooze sweetness and smiled at each other across the table as if THIS was going to be a treat we'd soon not forget. And it happened to turn out JUST THAT WAY. I picked mine up as did she, studied it and licked me lips in anticipation.
"Dis be da first American redneck ting I've ever done in me life," I said to her.
"Oooh me too dare Gabe," she smiled back holding the cherry up to the light.
Together we popped the much-anticipated fruit into our pie holes and bit down and my excuse for this was I was hopped up on medication and Mam's that she was just . . . adventurous. One bite and I think me brain exploded. Mam coughing or more like choking was able to croak, "WHO IN DARE RIGHT MIND DRINKS DIS STUFF?" Well, it wasn't us, we both swallowed and KABAM we both felt like we had been on an all-day drunk!
"Poteen isn't as bad as dis!" She coughed, leaving me in the kitchen by meself. To be an arse I held the jar up to her as if offering her another, she waved her hand at me and clutched her throat exiting the room.
This episode she has told too many times to count and each time it gets to more me who had a bad reaction, and me whose idea it was in the first place, and me who 'forced' her to partake, and me fault for her having a white lightning high for three days! And THIS episode she felt inclined to offset Tonya's story. Oi, the woman. Like I say neither had a thing to do with the other.
But I was doing better until I followed her lead and ate that damn lethal cherry. It made me sicker! And then she has the nerve to complain the next morning because I didn't greet her properly. Oi!
"You're an idiot," Tonya muttered to me.
So to change the subject back to Tonya and a wee bit of revenge, I said, "Tell me parents wot YER mutha did on a campin' trip in Florida. I tink they'd get a kick oot of it."
Tonya's eyes narrowed because this was me throwing HER mother under the bus. When she didn't regale us with the story, I did being half awake, wanting desperately to be off the subject of cherries, and not thinking of consequences later. "SO the Abdullahs went to Winter Park and Mrs. A was voicin' her displeasure about campin' in a swamp area where dare were lots of spiders, and worse a Burmese Python on the loose. So while Mr. A was settin' oop camp, Mrs. A went into Winter Park where dare are all dese quaint little shops and she found a boutique that made her feel as if she had re-entered civilisation. She proceeded to barricade herself in da dressin' room, not wantin' to coome oot until Mr. A booked a hotel and not a tent. When Mr. A found her, da boutique people were quite distressed dey couldn't talk her oot of the changin' room. Dey were aboot to call the authorities to haf her removed, but Mr. A promised Mrs. A accommodations more in keepin' wit her idea of "campin'."
"As dey made dare way to dare motor she said, "Ya doo knoe dat anyting norn of Lake Okeechobee (unless on da ocean) be a no-no. I don't go dare if I can help it. And dare are noo showers, heated ones dat is! I'd rather we go to Gardens Mall in Palm Beach and peruse Gucci's." Dis she could do faster den Mr. A could say, "Where's me credit card?" but dat would defeat da whole idea Mr. A had of campin' oot.
"As dey were leavin' da shop she was whining aboot the movers and shakers from the nore-east who had moved down dare fer da winter and why couldn't dey doo dat?
"Wot buy a mansion?" He said floored.
"I do wonder if cousin Angela still owns property doown ere'. I should find oot, we could stay wit her, but of course, I'd haf ta put on a long gown, jewels and a tiara just ta write her."
"Well, somehow he kept her talkin' and before she knew it dey were back at the campground. In a huff, she sat in da tent wit da door zipped to keep out snakes. Well, not to be deterred, Mr. A made up wot he called a "decadent French toast casserole."
"Hold on dare sonny boy, how can a casserole be decadent? Fer sure an I don't knoe how." Me mam cut in all confused, but weren't we all? "Dats like me sayin' haggis fer breakfast be too divine fer words. A true gift from da Scottish gods, da essence of liver, kidneys, lungs and heart chopped up an mixed wit whiskey and oatmeal, den stuffed in a sheep's blatter and boiled fer a few hours be a fantastic culinary experience fer da palate to savour da flavour, especially in da wee hours befer ye knoe wot yer eatin'."
Now you must know me mam prides herself on her cooking she does, so to hear of a dish she never heard of, and that it was "decadent" had her going. But me wife, not losing a beat interrupted with this gem.
"Well Mother O, my father (during the time before he realised his wife had gone missing) had come across that loose python and killed it. What he did was cut it up and stuck it in between slices of French toast for an amazing culinary explosion of the palate! Much like the cherries you two imbibed," she said looking from me to Mam. "My mom was none the wiser." And slowly a big grin crept across her face and we all grinned back thinking of the mother-in-law Dragon actually eating SNAKE. I love me father-in-law I do!
"So tell me dis missy," me da said, "does yer mam knoe wot she ate, I mean did he ever tell er'?"
"No, not to this day does she know. And to hear her describe the flavour and texture . . . to die laughing for, but we don't dare. What she doesn't know won't hurt her." Tonya said sipping her coffee.
"Revenge fer da blu cheese," me da nodded to me mam like let THAT be a lesson woman.
"But I will tell you this, I'll never eat anything my father makes," Tonya replied.
NOR WILL I since THAT story.
Gabe
Copyright © 2013 All rights reserved
R. Linda:
Ahhh, me first story of the new year! First and foremost I be on medication. Lots of it, so if this letter does not meet the rigid standards and requirements of Emily Post or even Elizabeth Post for that matter, it be the fault of me brain being influenced or temporarily overtaken by the wonders of the pharmaceutical industry.
I be not in the throes of the flu (I had me flu shot), but instead I be sporting a cold which be an annoying case of sniffles causing me to be sneezing me fool head off as if I had bad allergies. I should have been over this days ago, BUT it be not me fault . . . no no it be the fault of me sainted mam.
It started after a culinary disaster the day before which left me the next morning shuffling into breakfast in such a deep fog I forgot me manners and did not utter those two words expected of me, "Good morning!" No, I don't usually communicate with any coherence unless I've had three cups of joe, so this behaviour was me norm. But to me dear old, grey-haired, apple-cheeked little mam, it was not decent behaviour when one was entertaining "guests."
I reckoned after all those years of yours truly growing up in the family abode back in Newry, this behaviour would be nothing new. But no, no, me Mam had forgotten I be not a 'morning person' and so was quite ruffled over me walking in acknowledging no one but the coffee pot.
To fix this situation, she leaned across the table as soon as I had seated meself with me cuppa and shouted "GOO MERNIN' DARE GABRIEL" like I had a hearing deficiency. This as you might gather, rankled and put me body into a shivery dance at being startled, with me nirvana of the gods being slopped all over me saucer. Me eyes wide, I'd wished her one back but mumbled and that got me a "WOT DID YA SAY DARE GABRIEL?" I tell ya.
"Lookit ere' mam, ye don't haf ta wish me a good mernin' every day because it isn't a good mernin' until I've had me cups of joe and find I be still a part of da human race. So just let it goo will ya?"
Looking into her own cup she addressed her coffee, "Well, I brought ye oop better n' dat. But if ye haf da need ta unploog den okay." And she shrugged.
Now I have not heard the word "unplug" since the 80s but well we are talking me mam, so the idea she used a hipster term about electronic devices we are all so "plugged" into -- at first did not register. So while I be sounding that word off in me head, she was muttering on, "I knoo ye haf a busy life ye doo, and ya don't feel the need to be civil in the mernin'," and the muttering faded out.
But this time me poor unawakened brain was stuck on the word "unplugged" and so I muttered it and said, "Reminds me of corporate American and the regimented life of bein' in a suit and tie. Oh well." Why did I say that? No clue, but you would think I hit me own mam by the way she looked taken aback. Tonya catching this and being slightly more awake than meself jumped in and said something that had to do with nothing.
"Oh my dad felt that way and so he would relieve the corporate stress by going camping."
Yup, all movement stopped, no one said anything and all eyes were on Tonya. "My mom would say her idea of camping was not staying in a five-star hotel." And she giggled. No one else did, the expressions on faces were more like, 'Were you going with this?' And if that wasn't enough she did keep on going. "So some years ago, I guess my dad "unplugged" as well from his "plugged in" life as a minion of corporate stress. As soon as Christmas was over he was thinking of retiring, so during Christmas week (which he had off) he decided to pretend he was retired to see if he liked it well enough. But like Gabe here, he caught a cold and spent most of his vacation in bed. Which for my mother was a good thing by the time they got to New Year's Eve." And she stopped, but I couldn't let her stop so I asked why that was a good thing and of course ever eager to accommodate she went on with this: "Well, he called off the annual New Year's celebration, but my mother was not going to have HER New Years Eve interrupted, so she got a cheese fondue and served him that. She neglected to inform him (with his taste buds so overwhelmed by medicine) that the fondue he was eating had blu cheese in it, a cheese he detests, but she loves. Only my mom!" And she giggled again, not seeing the wide-eyed stares around the kitchen table. "SO then about two hours later she makes a large tray of nachos, chili, onions, peppers, cheese, and salsa and God knows what else she threw in there and THAT certainly cleared my dad's sinuses!" More laughter as we all forced a chuckle and looked at each other like WHO IS SHE? "Yeah, she was tired of fondue year after year so she got her nachos in there. Ha ha ha. And to keep him from doing a bad impression of Dick Clark, much like your son does every New Year's Eve, they watched Fawlty Towers, something they hadn't done in twenty years! They never saw the ball drop because she kept the DVD going, so no disrespect to Dick Clark, God rest his soul." And she sighed. "Anyway," she started up again, startling us, "my brother came over the day after New Year's Day and insisted enough was enough, dad needed to go out in sub-zero temperatures and shop until he dropped and maybe have a bite of lunch. Dad came home laden down with sale items and his cold was heavier than before. So everything he had undid, he redid by that stupid shopping spree." And she shook her head in wonder at how stupid men were. And that was it. We were looking at each other like OK and the point of all this is? I covertly shook me head at Tonya (who was studying her coffee in remembrance not noticing the looks), and mouthed to me olwans, "Ever since she hit her head after that fall she took she hasn't been right." What fall you ask? No fall, it just sounded good at the time and the parents nodded so they accepted her slightly brain-damaged behaviour on a completely fabricated explanation. What can I say? They are Irish, they believe in faeries, so they will believe whatever you tell them, no explanation necessary.
Since we are on the subject of men's stupidity and taste buds that were damaged, me own mam threw me under the bus with an inappropriate comment of her own that had nothing to do with ME going out in sub-zero temps to shop. No, she had not gotten over a certain gift I got from Policeman Percy. Yesss, that party me da threw on Christmas Eve (see 25 December 2012, We had . . . Christmas chicken), Percy was thoughtful enough to bring me a present. It is a Mason jar loaded with cherries and steeped in moonshine. The jar had been on the kitchen counter and Mam was hot to get her hands on a cherry or two. So a few days ago, I walked in for me 100th cup of tea and she convinced me a fermented cherry would help me cold. I was like WHAT? She went on about the benefits of vitamin C. I decided to try a cherry or two after being told of the wonders cherries hold for optimum health. Yes, I was lied to, but I had bought her assurance hook, line, and sinker after being quite miserable for a couple of days, completely forgetting what liquid the cherries had been sitting in for months if not years.
Mam's added suggestion I should try the cherries since over-the-counter meds didn't seem to be helping sort of had me curious. She being me mam, I thought she knew best. Well, she didn't. I got hold of the jar and I asked her if she'd like to try one. Well, adventurous as most Irish women are, she sat down as I twisted off the cap and spooned out a cherry for her and a cherry for me.
The cherries looked lovely, yes indeed.
 |
| They don't look lethal |
"Dis be da first American redneck ting I've ever done in me life," I said to her.
"Oooh me too dare Gabe," she smiled back holding the cherry up to the light.
Together we popped the much-anticipated fruit into our pie holes and bit down and my excuse for this was I was hopped up on medication and Mam's that she was just . . . adventurous. One bite and I think me brain exploded. Mam coughing or more like choking was able to croak, "WHO IN DARE RIGHT MIND DRINKS DIS STUFF?" Well, it wasn't us, we both swallowed and KABAM we both felt like we had been on an all-day drunk!
"Poteen isn't as bad as dis!" She coughed, leaving me in the kitchen by meself. To be an arse I held the jar up to her as if offering her another, she waved her hand at me and clutched her throat exiting the room.
This episode she has told too many times to count and each time it gets to more me who had a bad reaction, and me whose idea it was in the first place, and me who 'forced' her to partake, and me fault for her having a white lightning high for three days! And THIS episode she felt inclined to offset Tonya's story. Oi, the woman. Like I say neither had a thing to do with the other.
But I was doing better until I followed her lead and ate that damn lethal cherry. It made me sicker! And then she has the nerve to complain the next morning because I didn't greet her properly. Oi!
"You're an idiot," Tonya muttered to me.
So to change the subject back to Tonya and a wee bit of revenge, I said, "Tell me parents wot YER mutha did on a campin' trip in Florida. I tink they'd get a kick oot of it."
Tonya's eyes narrowed because this was me throwing HER mother under the bus. When she didn't regale us with the story, I did being half awake, wanting desperately to be off the subject of cherries, and not thinking of consequences later. "SO the Abdullahs went to Winter Park and Mrs. A was voicin' her displeasure about campin' in a swamp area where dare were lots of spiders, and worse a Burmese Python on the loose. So while Mr. A was settin' oop camp, Mrs. A went into Winter Park where dare are all dese quaint little shops and she found a boutique that made her feel as if she had re-entered civilisation. She proceeded to barricade herself in da dressin' room, not wantin' to coome oot until Mr. A booked a hotel and not a tent. When Mr. A found her, da boutique people were quite distressed dey couldn't talk her oot of the changin' room. Dey were aboot to call the authorities to haf her removed, but Mr. A promised Mrs. A accommodations more in keepin' wit her idea of "campin'."
"As dey made dare way to dare motor she said, "Ya doo knoe dat anyting norn of Lake Okeechobee (unless on da ocean) be a no-no. I don't go dare if I can help it. And dare are noo showers, heated ones dat is! I'd rather we go to Gardens Mall in Palm Beach and peruse Gucci's." Dis she could do faster den Mr. A could say, "Where's me credit card?" but dat would defeat da whole idea Mr. A had of campin' oot.
"As dey were leavin' da shop she was whining aboot the movers and shakers from the nore-east who had moved down dare fer da winter and why couldn't dey doo dat?
"Wot buy a mansion?" He said floored.
"I do wonder if cousin Angela still owns property doown ere'. I should find oot, we could stay wit her, but of course, I'd haf ta put on a long gown, jewels and a tiara just ta write her."
"Well, somehow he kept her talkin' and before she knew it dey were back at the campground. In a huff, she sat in da tent wit da door zipped to keep out snakes. Well, not to be deterred, Mr. A made up wot he called a "decadent French toast casserole."
"Hold on dare sonny boy, how can a casserole be decadent? Fer sure an I don't knoe how." Me mam cut in all confused, but weren't we all? "Dats like me sayin' haggis fer breakfast be too divine fer words. A true gift from da Scottish gods, da essence of liver, kidneys, lungs and heart chopped up an mixed wit whiskey and oatmeal, den stuffed in a sheep's blatter and boiled fer a few hours be a fantastic culinary experience fer da palate to savour da flavour, especially in da wee hours befer ye knoe wot yer eatin'."
Now you must know me mam prides herself on her cooking she does, so to hear of a dish she never heard of, and that it was "decadent" had her going. But me wife, not losing a beat interrupted with this gem.
"Well Mother O, my father (during the time before he realised his wife had gone missing) had come across that loose python and killed it. What he did was cut it up and stuck it in between slices of French toast for an amazing culinary explosion of the palate! Much like the cherries you two imbibed," she said looking from me to Mam. "My mom was none the wiser." And slowly a big grin crept across her face and we all grinned back thinking of the mother-in-law Dragon actually eating SNAKE. I love me father-in-law I do!
"So tell me dis missy," me da said, "does yer mam knoe wot she ate, I mean did he ever tell er'?"
"No, not to this day does she know. And to hear her describe the flavour and texture . . . to die laughing for, but we don't dare. What she doesn't know won't hurt her." Tonya said sipping her coffee.
"Revenge fer da blu cheese," me da nodded to me mam like let THAT be a lesson woman.
"But I will tell you this, I'll never eat anything my father makes," Tonya replied.
NOR WILL I since THAT story.
Gabe
Copyright © 2013 All rights reserved
4 comments:
somehow i can't imagine your mother-in-law speaking in an Irish accent but i found it amusing. as to that casserole...yuck! the cherries i'd try and who puts blue cheese in a fondu?
LMAO
SEND CHERRIES!
Ah no, you wouldn't want these, take me word.
LOL
ok, but seeing that I LIKE snakes, I would never eat them!
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