04 June 2026
1163
R. Linda:
Well … it has been a while, it has. I had just gone from emotional alert to emotional complacency WHEN I was given the tragic (for me at least) news that me old mother-in-law would come traispsing up from the Pine Barrens of New Jersey for a visit to the abode.
Me first words were, "For how long?" Not "oh goody" or "can't wait to see her"-no, no, none of that stuff.
The complacency went right out the old window, it did, and me nerves started to do the shaky thing, of jumping around me heart with a cold chill coming in to muck the feeling up more.
How the feck did this happen and when? I was not consulted (and for good reason; I would have had a fit of epic proportions with resounding NOs all over the place). However, I'd be shouted down by the other occupants of the abode (all except me own Mam who would have been out the door at the first mention of the word "Dragon"), it would have been nice to have some notice (so I could arrange a trip out of town, so to speak), but no, it was an hour before her arrival I was notified of the impending doom.
To say I was beside meself is saying exactly what I was. Realising I couldn't book a trip in time, I turned to the next idea: where to hide. Defeated, because no matter where I took meself SHE would find me, I plopped meself into a chair and looked like a man ready to be electrocuted.
Just as me wife was about to berate yours truly over such behaviour, the door slammed open like the north wind had blown in, and there standing in dark silhouette in the doorway was the bulky figure of THAT woman, the wicked witch of the south, Dragon-lady.
Everyone went to greet her, everyone but me and me sainted mother, who must have been hiding under the kitchen table (I think because she was nowhere to be seen), and I was instructed to go bring "Mother's bags inside."
"Where'd you leave the broom?" I asked her, as I looked down the porch stairs at the massive amount of luggage that furthered me angst, if the old Dragon was going to move in.
Well, it didn't take her more than three seconds to take over me living room chair, put the lovely green comforter you knitted for me over her gigantic knees, and demand to know where my mother was. She was ready for a cuppa tea after her long travels.
Mam came out from under the kitchen table, shouting she was not the Irish housemaid, and fecking Dragon could get her own tea, but she didn't get to say all that because I instantly got hold of her, turned her towards the kettle and whispered (with much urgency), "Just do it. We'll figure this out later."
And so, mumbling under her breath, she went to make the strongest Booley's tea I had ever had a sip of. Yes, a sip, because it was THAT strong. No one drank it but the Dragon, who has no clue about teas and sipped it like it was Nirvana time. How she managed it, I do not know, but we all looked at each other, then at me, smug mother, and, as covertly as possible, shook our heads at her, as if to say, "THIS is not going to win us points."
I won't bore you with the rest of that day, but let me say, the old Dragon lady settled in a little too fast for my liking, and to further make things sketchy between her and me sainted little grey-haired, apple-cheeked Mam took over the kitchen, which belongs exclusively to Mam.
We were subjected to recipes, the old thing found on Facebook, which were half-recipes. You know the kind where there is a delicious-looking meal pictured with a few ingredients to the side and the wording, "I made this, and everyone wants the recipe!" and you have to click on a website to get the full instructions for making whatever deliciousness is pictured? Well, it was worse when half the ingredients were used and the surprise of the Dragon tasting whatever gorgeous meal she saw, saying, "Well, the photograph looked more appetising than THIS."
Me Mam caught onto the problem almost instantly. To save us from gut problems later, she'd ask Dragon what she was cooking up or, more Irishly, "kooking-up" for dinner. As soon as she knew, she'd run to FB, find the recipe and then get the rest of it to save us from indigestion and gastric bypasses later. That is, she was successful in this venture UNTIL she had the opportunity to go to a community dinner and left us to the small or, more like, non-existent mercies of the Dragon lady.
I came in from work to see a strange line-up of "ingredients" on the kitchen counter and a flummoxed Dragon scratching her head in perplexed agitation.
"Wot be the matter?" I asked, not really wanting to know, but when it was the food we were all about to consume, and knowing she only used half the ingredients, I felt inclined to ask.
"Well, I got all this that is asked for, and I can't figure out how they go together," said she.
"Here, let me take a look," I said, taking the recipe from her.
OMG!!! Let me put it here so you can see it.
 |
| What be wrong with THIS? |
She had a batch of me Mam's chocolate chip cookies on the counter. She had the leftover S'mores Tonya had made the night before, and she had Thumbprint cookies, which she must have made herself (God only knows what they taste like), and she was perplexed over what a Lavender Honey Lemon Loaf was, as well as the Key Lime Loaf. She had plenty of eggs out, but for the two ingredients in the 2 Good 2 Be Baked recipe, she had no clue what they were.
I started to tell her that what she had wasn't a recipe but an advert for baked goods, but she wouldn't listen, because she's NEVER wrong. Without me, Mam, to back me up, or anyone for that matter, I left her to it because what could I do?
I went out to mow the lawn just to have noise that would kill any thoughts of all this out of what's left of me brain. I have no idea what dessert will be, but I do know I won't be eating it, whatever it is. I did think I should go in and print off warning labels that say: Attention: What you are about to consume may look delicious, but it isn't healthy. The ingredients are from an unknown source, so be aware that you may do permanent harm to your body.
Gabe
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