Another Weekend, another descent into insanity

I am back. It was quite the weekend weather-wise around these parts. Winter just does not want to give up the ghost. Of course, it is April and that is just the way it is. I am used to it and really do not complain. Any snow was in the form of flurries and did not stick around. This is usual April weather.

I can recall snow still on the ground, a lot of it up north, at this time in the mid 80s and even the late 70s. Hell, I can recall a real SNOW STORM back in early April in the mid 70s. That was freaky. They, the Carnies (you know if you took about 40 of them together you would have a full set of adult teeth) used to set up some rides (bumper cars, the Scrambler, and the Zipper, usually) at the strip plaza by my mother's where I grew up (the strip plaza is now near death with tenants leaving but the rent so cheap that others stay. It had added on another row of stores back in the mid 80s, but those stores were torn down. The anchor tenant was a grocery store, but has been vacant for a good decade and the liquor store has since moved, but the bank and Shoppers Drug Mart remain). It was always a thrill.

I recall being there one Thursday in early April (must have been about 1975) when the snow began. By the end of the night, I was trudging through a good 6 inches to a foot of snow to get to school. It was freaky.

Enough about the weather, I can talk of dinner with the Outlaws. Here it goes. We arrive late on the Friday, which was good. I notice that my mother in law has made "Italian" chicken. What the fuck?!!! I ask what that means. She put tomato sauce on it. Of course, it was store bought and kosher for passover (ie full of chemicals that no human should ingest, then again, no human should ingest that which she cooks). I look at her like she is from another planet. How can you call it "Italian" just because there is some sugar laden, canned tomato sauce on it. How can you insult Italian cuisine that way?

Needless to say I was not eating that shit. It was a meal full of meat, all grey. She did make a zucchini pudding. Why the fuck does she have to kill the shit out of food? What did the zucchini ever do to her? Then she tells me to take this or that and that it is good.

Either she is lying to me (which I am guessing because it beats facing reality and actually having to take action and improve) or her past cigarette smoking has rendered her with an inability to taste anything. I only say that because at best her food is tasteless (like cardboard), so obviously she does not taste her food as she cooks. She just assumes it tastes good as she cooks the ever loving crap out things.

Again, I do not understand why when she finally prepares some vegetables that she feels the need to make a pudding out of it. Why destroy the integrity of what you are eating/serving? Then again, she has been cooking for my father in law who has the palate of a fucking goat. That is with or without the dementia.

He was the type of dude that when in the US liked to go to Sizzler. It was shit but you got a lot of food. The Wife would say it was crap and his reply was you got a lot of it. So there you have his philosophy of life, EAT TONS OF CRAP! The gustatory experience is too refined for him. Hell, any good sensory experience is too refined for him (now and then).

The Wife made some soup. That was good. In any event, I noticed that my mother in law cannot shut up. As we are eating our soup, she has to talk between spoonfuls, hers (it is no wonder that she was the last one to finish, she does not shut up). The worst part is that she is eating and talking, so that some food gets lodged in the corner of her mouth. Then she will want to kiss me, and she is a fucking lip kisser.

Thanks but not thanks. I am not a fucking bird and you are not my mother! I would not take ABC food from either one (already been chewed)! It is fucking disgusting! Then again, I may take it from some hot chick, but even then I would have to think about it. One of these days I am worried that she is going to slip me the tongue. There won't be enough Listerine or therapy to get me through that trauma.

I will leave you with that. Ciao!