So we're sitting at dinner tonight with my grandma (mom's mom), Gram's 'Special Friend' (ahem, boyfriend, ahem), SF's son, and my stepdad. We're at a restaurant that tries to be really 'upscale' where we used to go all the time when I was a kid. It's the type of place that you can bring kids because they have lots of saltine crackers with the soup and things like 'chicken fingers' (do chickens even *have* fingers?) and 'buttered noodles' on the menu.
Gram's SF is a little hard of hearing. So is SF's son. So is Gram. The conversation is rather disjointed, not a whole lot being said. SF launches in to a story about bald eagles in the area. Meanwhile, my mother is sitting next to me, muttering along with the story so that only I could hear what she's saying. It goes something like this:
SF: I saw a bald eagle the other day.
Mom (under breath): crow.
SF: There were two of them!
Mom (under breath): one.
SF: It was huge! Wingspan of about 8 feet!
Mom (under breath): 2 feet.
SF: And it had that white head!
Mom (under breath): black.
SF: It was so near the dock!
Mom (under breath): it was across the lake. he saw it through binoculars.
I seriously thought I was going to choke on my whitefish and scallops (for the record, the Lake Michigan whitefish was dry, but the sea scallops in the Riesling reduction were great... mom and I split two dishes). My gram looks over and goes 'What are you laughing at?' And I just point at mom. Gram gets it.
My stepdad told a story about an old boss's wife who used to bring giant plastic bags to restaurants. She'd fill the bags with *not only* leftover food from the table, but also 'freebees' like sugar packets, pats of butter, and salt and pepper.
The conversation basically degenerated from there, to the point where my mom, gram and I are laughing hysterically between bites of fish.
After dinner my mom and stepdad and I wandered around the shopping area known as 'Fishtown' in Leland. We went in to an Americana-themed gift shop. Here's where the human buzz-saw comes in. It started with my finding a perfectly innocent bike charm. Yes, I already have a bike charm. But it's a road bike. I used to have a mountain bike (that I bought at this same store, actually) but I lost it in Guatemala. So I asked my mom if I could borrow ten dollars to buy this new mountain bike. No, I already have a charm and I'd forget to pay her back anyway.
Mock pouting, I follow her around the store. We're both a little slap-happy at this point. We found Christmastree ornaments shaped like bikes, that really pedaled! I asked to borrow ten dollars. She pointed out that my bike wasn't yellow like the ornament so no, I couldn't get one. I said that I could paint my bike yellow. Still no ten dollars.
At the back of the shop, we found a shelf of sale items. 'Oh look!' Mom says, 'Discounted crap! We can fill your house with it!' Wooden angel figurine, anyone?
We spent a good half hour discussing the relative uselessness of each piece, laughing hysterically throughout. The poor shopgirl, her self-esteem must have sucked by the time we left.
Then we found this musical instrument that claimed 'anyone can play!' Oh really? That sounds like a challenge. So my mom, stepdad and I took turns butchering such classics as "Clementine" and "Brahms Lullaby".
The one piece of any worth was a sign that read:
I kiss better than I cook.
Hee hee. I want an apron that says that. It's widely accepted that I can cook pretty darned well. Hee hee.
But still I couldn't borrow ten dollars.
