16 December 2018
Story #933
R. Linda:
I be remiss. I started writing this back in November, so I'm now playing catch-up. Better late than never.
As you know, I be a turkey fanatic, and the best thing about the U.S.A. be Thanksgiving Day. An excuse to have turkey twice a year instead of just at Yuletide. This year was no different for me in the drool department as the days led up to the first feast of the season! That was until the Dragon Lady flew in on her broom and settled herself in me abode like she owned the place. Meanwhile, Mam had come down with the flu, so she was out of commission in the food preparation department. Tonya and I decided we'd roll up our sleeves and take over, thinking we'd have a third pair of hands in the Dragon, but no, no, she had settled herself nicely on our couch with a cup of hot cider, cookies, and the remote control.
It was with no amount of snide whispers between me and the wife over the mother-in-law's indifference to all the work we were doing that it dawned on us that Dragon had not mentioned her husband. Usually, we get "Big sends his regards," but no, that didn't occur, so Tonya took time out from her piecrust to confront her mother on just where "Daddy" was located.
"Oh, Tony is at the house, he's making dinner this year." That was the answer.
"Sooo . . . why aren't you with him?" Tonya asked.
"Because I'm here, that's why."
"But Mom, you could have brought him."
"Oh no, he has to cook for your brothers and sisters." Was the quip back.
There was no getting through to Her Highness, so Tonya came back, and we resumed our whispering in the kitchen until she decided to ring up "Daddy." This she did quietly out of earshot of "Mom." Dragon told Big Tony she felt like a colonial Thanksgiving, and in Victorian Cape May, that wasn't happening, so she was off to New Hampshire. "No, nothing going on, that's your mother for you," Tony said with a sigh. Well, ok then. As long as we knew there was nothing amiss and she wouldn't be moving in, we were ok.
"We dodged a bullet there, Ton," I whispered, "I was quakin' in me boots there for a second."
Thanksgiving arrived, and along with it, the usual suspects and one or two invited guests who had no place to go. We try to do our good deed in that score every year. This year, Mrs. Cutty and her husband both had been ill, he with cancer, she with a brain bleed. Both are sufficiently recovered, but weak, and they have no family. The other was Mam's Ben, whom she says to this day is just a friend; she's not interested in him, but he seems to spend a lot of time courting her, so who knows?
Mr. Cutty, never having seen the Dragon before, said in his loud, booming voice (he's deaf as a doorpost, so there was a lot of shouting on his part), "Who is that?"
Maybe Dragon scared him, I dunno, but she took exception to be called a THAT and squinted her eyes at him like she'd like to throw up her wand and have him levitated out of the room. Quickly, me fast but medicated Mam stepped in and shouted, "THAT BE HERSELF COME FROM JERSEY."
"Ooh." Mr. Cutty said that like that made perfect sense, which it didn't.
Story #933
R. Linda:
I be remiss. I started writing this back in November, so I'm now playing catch-up. Better late than never.
As you know, I be a turkey fanatic, and the best thing about the U.S.A. be Thanksgiving Day. An excuse to have turkey twice a year instead of just at Yuletide. This year was no different for me in the drool department as the days led up to the first feast of the season! That was until the Dragon Lady flew in on her broom and settled herself in me abode like she owned the place. Meanwhile, Mam had come down with the flu, so she was out of commission in the food preparation department. Tonya and I decided we'd roll up our sleeves and take over, thinking we'd have a third pair of hands in the Dragon, but no, no, she had settled herself nicely on our couch with a cup of hot cider, cookies, and the remote control.
It was with no amount of snide whispers between me and the wife over the mother-in-law's indifference to all the work we were doing that it dawned on us that Dragon had not mentioned her husband. Usually, we get "Big sends his regards," but no, that didn't occur, so Tonya took time out from her piecrust to confront her mother on just where "Daddy" was located.
"Oh, Tony is at the house, he's making dinner this year." That was the answer.
"Sooo . . . why aren't you with him?" Tonya asked.
"Because I'm here, that's why."
"But Mom, you could have brought him."
"Oh no, he has to cook for your brothers and sisters." Was the quip back.
There was no getting through to Her Highness, so Tonya came back, and we resumed our whispering in the kitchen until she decided to ring up "Daddy." This she did quietly out of earshot of "Mom." Dragon told Big Tony she felt like a colonial Thanksgiving, and in Victorian Cape May, that wasn't happening, so she was off to New Hampshire. "No, nothing going on, that's your mother for you," Tony said with a sigh. Well, ok then. As long as we knew there was nothing amiss and she wouldn't be moving in, we were ok.
"We dodged a bullet there, Ton," I whispered, "I was quakin' in me boots there for a second."
Thanksgiving arrived, and along with it, the usual suspects and one or two invited guests who had no place to go. We try to do our good deed in that score every year. This year, Mrs. Cutty and her husband both had been ill, he with cancer, she with a brain bleed. Both are sufficiently recovered, but weak, and they have no family. The other was Mam's Ben, whom she says to this day is just a friend; she's not interested in him, but he seems to spend a lot of time courting her, so who knows?
Mr. Cutty, never having seen the Dragon before, said in his loud, booming voice (he's deaf as a doorpost, so there was a lot of shouting on his part), "Who is that?"
Maybe Dragon scared him, I dunno, but she took exception to be called a THAT and squinted her eyes at him like she'd like to throw up her wand and have him levitated out of the room. Quickly, me fast but medicated Mam stepped in and shouted, "THAT BE HERSELF COME FROM JERSEY."
"Ooh." Mr. Cutty said that like that made perfect sense, which it didn't.
I hurriedly introduced them.
It did not take Dragon long to get her revenge. As we sat down at table, she said to Mrs. Cutty, "So, you got any pets besides him?" This said, pointing her soup spoon at Mr. Cutty. I tell ya, the woman be a piece of work and then some! Everything stopped for a second before the clatter of cutlery and silverware took over. Luckily, neither Cutty could understand the New Jersey accent nor could either hear well, so that flying insult went unheard . . . I think.
I'd like to say that was the only bizarre remark, but no, it wasn't. Dragon did not stop there. Instead, throughout dinner, she regaled us with the latest news of the day. The discussion continued as everyone attempted to correct Dragon's misinformation with the actual news. As you know, Dragon can't see to save her life, so when she reads anything, whatever it is, it always comes out as something else. We are used to it, but the Cuttys were not, so this was an experience of frustration for them, thanks to Dragon's non-stop commentary on world events shouted at the top of her lungs when she was informed the Cuttys couldn't hear.
But before she got to that, she noticed Mam was a bit woozy from her flu medications and made the remark in front of the entire table, "We may have to order your dinner from the pharmacy. You don't look well."
Mam being too under the weather, let that one go, but I know she hasn't forgotten it, and later, when Dragon least expects it, revenge will be visited.
Dragon noticed the youngest had spilt his peanut soup all over the tablecloth in front of him, so she just had to point that out. "As your mother would say, that wee one has made a right mess of it, hasn't he?" Zinger number two! But the wee one replied, "My butt pressure is going up!" As he looked across the table, a scowl on his face directed right at his Dragon Grandma-ma.
Oddly, she laughed at that, but the highlight of Thanksgiving was one particular pumpkin pie. Yes indeed. For the past three years, we've had Ben as a guest at our table, and every year he bakes us a pumpkin pie. In the first year, the pie was mostly soup, but luckily, we had two others, and he never knew that his pie had gone out in the bin. Last year, the pie was done perfectly, but he forgot the seasonings, so it was like eating squash baked in a crust. We never mentioned it; we just took mouthfuls and suddenly stopped chewing as we looked at each other. Then, Ben noticed, and we noticed he noticed. So, we suddenly smiled and said 'ummm' and kept on chewing. And then we forced ourselves to swallow. So this year, he brought the usual up a day early. It looked perfectly baked, but did it have the spices? No one knew. There was no way to cut a piece to find out, and we did not want an instant replay of the year before. So, my wife and I baked a few more pumpkin pies and disguised one of them as Ben's. Ben's pie we put on top of the microwave and left, covered with a tea towel so no one would disturb it. However, while Mam was in bed with a cold the day before and Tonya and I were out, the local church lady came to collect the pie we had donated to the annual Church Supper. Dragon, being the only one there, thought the covered pie was THE pie, and she handed it off to the church lady.
When we arrived and discovered the pie was gone, we wondered what had become of it. I asked Mam, who had no clue, and then Dragon came waltzing in and informed me that she had given it to the church. Tonya grabbed a pie, and I ran after her, driving to the church at 100 mph. Their Thanksgiving dinner for the less fortunate was being set up. She ran in with the right pie, but couldn't tell which pie was Ben's. Holy Yuckers! What to do.
The lady in charge of the desserts came up, and Tonya gave her our pie.
"I taught dat we already had yer pie," The church lady said in her thick Irish accent. "Clar said it wuz one of dese 'ere," and she pointed to six pumpkin pies.
"Oh, Claire got the wrong pie," Tonya said, and then explained the problem. She got a forced laugh from Annie Malone, the dessert lady, and the two of them stood looking down at the pies as though the right one would reveal which one it was. Yea-ah. After a few seconds of silence, they shrugged in unison.
"I'll just leave this one with you in case," Tonya said, gently putting our pie on the table.
"Ooh, kay," Annie said, her eyes wide.
Well, the day after Thanksgiving, what did we get? Yup, Ben's pie showed up. It had been sliced for serving, but there was one glaring discrepancy that proved Ben did not get this year's pie right. Yup, in the middle of the pie was a large gummy wad of cinnamon and nutmeg. Never got mixed in. Oh yeah, with big chunks of raw pumpkin.
Well, waste not, want not, right? I, being not too happy with me cousin Sean, took a bowl of whipped cream that Mam had made to cover the taste of Ben's pie, should it lack flavour, and covered Ben's disaster with it. I took it to the camper and left it on Sean's table. Yup, I did. But the joke was on me, dumbarse came in after devouring the entire thing and had the nerve to tell me it was the best pie he had ever eaten.
It did not take Dragon long to get her revenge. As we sat down at table, she said to Mrs. Cutty, "So, you got any pets besides him?" This said, pointing her soup spoon at Mr. Cutty. I tell ya, the woman be a piece of work and then some! Everything stopped for a second before the clatter of cutlery and silverware took over. Luckily, neither Cutty could understand the New Jersey accent nor could either hear well, so that flying insult went unheard . . . I think.
I'd like to say that was the only bizarre remark, but no, it wasn't. Dragon did not stop there. Instead, throughout dinner, she regaled us with the latest news of the day. The discussion continued as everyone attempted to correct Dragon's misinformation with the actual news. As you know, Dragon can't see to save her life, so when she reads anything, whatever it is, it always comes out as something else. We are used to it, but the Cuttys were not, so this was an experience of frustration for them, thanks to Dragon's non-stop commentary on world events shouted at the top of her lungs when she was informed the Cuttys couldn't hear.
But before she got to that, she noticed Mam was a bit woozy from her flu medications and made the remark in front of the entire table, "We may have to order your dinner from the pharmacy. You don't look well."
Mam being too under the weather, let that one go, but I know she hasn't forgotten it, and later, when Dragon least expects it, revenge will be visited.
Dragon noticed the youngest had spilt his peanut soup all over the tablecloth in front of him, so she just had to point that out. "As your mother would say, that wee one has made a right mess of it, hasn't he?" Zinger number two! But the wee one replied, "My butt pressure is going up!" As he looked across the table, a scowl on his face directed right at his Dragon Grandma-ma.
Oddly, she laughed at that, but the highlight of Thanksgiving was one particular pumpkin pie. Yes indeed. For the past three years, we've had Ben as a guest at our table, and every year he bakes us a pumpkin pie. In the first year, the pie was mostly soup, but luckily, we had two others, and he never knew that his pie had gone out in the bin. Last year, the pie was done perfectly, but he forgot the seasonings, so it was like eating squash baked in a crust. We never mentioned it; we just took mouthfuls and suddenly stopped chewing as we looked at each other. Then, Ben noticed, and we noticed he noticed. So, we suddenly smiled and said 'ummm' and kept on chewing. And then we forced ourselves to swallow. So this year, he brought the usual up a day early. It looked perfectly baked, but did it have the spices? No one knew. There was no way to cut a piece to find out, and we did not want an instant replay of the year before. So, my wife and I baked a few more pumpkin pies and disguised one of them as Ben's. Ben's pie we put on top of the microwave and left, covered with a tea towel so no one would disturb it. However, while Mam was in bed with a cold the day before and Tonya and I were out, the local church lady came to collect the pie we had donated to the annual Church Supper. Dragon, being the only one there, thought the covered pie was THE pie, and she handed it off to the church lady.
When we arrived and discovered the pie was gone, we wondered what had become of it. I asked Mam, who had no clue, and then Dragon came waltzing in and informed me that she had given it to the church. Tonya grabbed a pie, and I ran after her, driving to the church at 100 mph. Their Thanksgiving dinner for the less fortunate was being set up. She ran in with the right pie, but couldn't tell which pie was Ben's. Holy Yuckers! What to do.
The lady in charge of the desserts came up, and Tonya gave her our pie.
"I taught dat we already had yer pie," The church lady said in her thick Irish accent. "Clar said it wuz one of dese 'ere," and she pointed to six pumpkin pies.
"Oh, Claire got the wrong pie," Tonya said, and then explained the problem. She got a forced laugh from Annie Malone, the dessert lady, and the two of them stood looking down at the pies as though the right one would reveal which one it was. Yea-ah. After a few seconds of silence, they shrugged in unison.
"I'll just leave this one with you in case," Tonya said, gently putting our pie on the table.
"Ooh, kay," Annie said, her eyes wide.
Well, the day after Thanksgiving, what did we get? Yup, Ben's pie showed up. It had been sliced for serving, but there was one glaring discrepancy that proved Ben did not get this year's pie right. Yup, in the middle of the pie was a large gummy wad of cinnamon and nutmeg. Never got mixed in. Oh yeah, with big chunks of raw pumpkin.
Well, waste not, want not, right? I, being not too happy with me cousin Sean, took a bowl of whipped cream that Mam had made to cover the taste of Ben's pie, should it lack flavour, and covered Ben's disaster with it. I took it to the camper and left it on Sean's table. Yup, I did. But the joke was on me, dumbarse came in after devouring the entire thing and had the nerve to tell me it was the best pie he had ever eaten.
Mam, who was feeling much better and was having her tea when Sean came loping in, overhearing him, whispered to me and Tonya, "Dere was a shite-load of Bailey's I put in dat whipped cream. Look at 'em he's drunk as a skunk poor ting, he don't noe wot he ate jus the Bailey's deadened his taste buds. Probably never be da same."
You know it is a good thing I didn't slather that pie in Mam's whipped topping for the church lady. Can you imagine I came close to doing that? I had asked Mam why she was making separate whipped cream when we already had some. She told me it was expressly for Ben's pie and Ben's pie only. I didn't understand what she had done at the time. It took Sean four days to sober up, thanks to the whipped topping.
Yup, never a dull moment in me abode. But wait, there's more!
I was planning to heed Mam's advice this year and do me Christmas shopping early. So, I went on Amazon, since I live a million miles from a shopping mall, and bought stocking stuffers for Tonya, which are the hardest things to buy, because when I think about it, I have no clue what to fill a stocking with.
This year, Mam helped me select the hard-to-pick stocking stuffers. She told me Tonya would like this kitchen implement, and that one, and that one, and oops, that one too! Her finger ran down me computer screen selecting a bunch of kitchen aids that she put on me shopping list.
"Really?" I said. "These things seem more for you than Tonya."
"Ooh noe, noe, noe." Said she.
So I ordered all those things and as they arrived, one by one (I got text alerts on me phone as well as notification emails from Amazon). What I did not bank on was Alexa announcing to all and sundry, "2 shipments have arrived! The Ateco 1447 4-sided Decorating Comb and Icing Smoother, and the Vollrath 3/4 Stainless Steel Disher, Size 40 that you ordered have been delivered to your garage door."
"ALEXA NO, shhhhhhhh shush!" I said.
"Sorry, I don't understand you." She says back, beginning to repeat the order.
"ALEXA, DO NOT TELL WHAT THE PACKAGES THAT WERE DELIVERED ARE. THEY ARE CHRISTMAS PRESENTS!"
"Ok, Gabe, to avoid spoiling any surprises, I won't shout out what package contents were delivered until after the New Year."
"ALEXA WHAT?"
"I mean share." She said slyly.
I knew she meant shout. I tell ya!
 |
| The Offending Ms. Alexa Dot |
Gabe
Copyright © 2018 All rights reserved
