So anyway, our neighborhood is pretty diverse. (OK, diverse for a Texas suburb.) Our neighbors insisted on taking us (my parents are visiting) out for Indian food. The same neighbor had insisted on taking us out last trip, but my Mother somehow hurt her back and wound up in bed for three days. Actually, she preferred being in bed for three days to eating Indian food. Because I am diabolical, I had made my parents eat Indian food one time in Indiana. She still holds a grudge. That may run in the family.
Anyway, in case you're not familiar with vintage Indiana farm cookingness...when Mom made "chili" it had no actual chili powder in it. It had home-canned tomatoes (so very yummy), chunks of hamburger, kidney beans, and...wait for it...macaroni!!! It was some kind of unchililike soup. (We also called green bell peppers "mangoes." I still have no idea why.) Spices? You are allowed to use the teeniest bit of black pepper as a spice, but that's it. Anything over 1/16 teaspoon in a large pot and you'll hear about it! (I've since started taking her to Penzey's. For once my foolish optimism has paid off.) So Mom was all "Hell-to-the-No!" on the Indian food.
Oi...this is where I always get sidetracked. What am I supposed to say? My parents are good people. Oh, but their intolerant streak drives me *&^%ing insane.
See, Mom had really pissed me off at the art museum last week. I'll just say she had a tantrum of intolerance. Nice. So anyway, it made me crazy, but then mid-fuming it occurs to me in a somewhat comedysketchesque fashion...you know, I can keep this in mind when I'm picking out your nursing home someday. Imagine a battle of wills with a toddler...but my mother. Me: "By God you WILL stop being intolerant someday!" Yeah, OK, so it's not that funny, but it may have kept my head from exploding. I've learned to appreciate the little moments of perverse joy that keep my head from going kaboom. So yeah, I came to think of Mom going out to dinner as her 'time out' for bad behavior. And I did appreciate knowing that Mom was dreading going out for dinner. I knew she'd have fun, and she did. Still, it was nice to know she was not happy about it for the days leading up to it.
Ah yes, perverse joy. I believe @leewaters brought that up first in regard to declining follow requests on Twitter. I said something about me finding perverse joy in tricking people into doing something good.
Again with the parents. I've tried writing about this before...but it never works out. I'll just say that this dates back to something that happened last year. I'm still beyond pissed at them. At some point this winter I went all "By God you will do something good whether you want to (or even realize it) or not!" I had already been volunteering at a place for a while when it occurred to me...you know, they would *really* hate this place (what with being intolerant #&^s and all). So every time they're in town, I make sure to enlist their help for the cause. Among other things, I've had them extend their travel plans more than once so they can keep the kids while I go to a project they wouldn't actually approve of. (I'm pathologically vague. It's quite a gift. They don't actually realize where I'm going.) So even in their inability to be decent...they're promoting goodness in the world. And my head is intact. That all points to WIN, right?
Shhh, don't say anything. Don't ruin my diabolical plot to turn intolerant #%&^s into helperbots for good. :-D (Yes, I have an expansion plan.) That, and who's going to clean up the mess if my head explodes?
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