Day 5 of Sustained In-Law Loud Yammering (AKA “Operation SILLY”).
Must leave tactical tomahawk where it is…must leave tactical tomahawk where it is… must…
My MiL is a bat-crap crazy Food Nazi (BCCFN).
I had just gotten done with making a german potato salad and since she can’t eat a lot of salt I pointed her to a bowl of it that I made just for her, and mentioned that the only salt in it was the the bacon crumbles. She said “You know, you can get salt-free bacon at Lostco.”
I looked at her blankly and said “Huh.” Then I went somewhere else.
Now, it’s just this sort of judgmental thing that really steams my clams. You could poo-poo it away and say it is not a judgment but it totally is. I notice she hasn’t said a think about the inadequacy of my cast iron skillets, truck tires, choice in shoes, etc. What she DOES comment on is things that I do that she might not agree with. I use salt. I don’t give a rat’s tushy about bacon grease, and dammit, I cook for flavor. I am not about to go buy 32lbs of salt-free bacon for my MiL. Sorry.
I do not like my choices put on display or to have to rationalize or defend my choices. This has created some stress/tension between Cruel Wife and myself because they are her parents. After a “discussion” we decided that she would try to deflect and I am allowed to say something if it comes up.
Not even five minutes later I’m taking the chicken off the smoker and BCCFN stops and says “You know, I did some looking online and found some bullion that has no salt in it. I said, “BCCFN, if you find this stuff online and you want some, let me know and I can get it ordered for you with no shipping costs.”
She said, “No, I already have some, I meant for you.”
I turned around slowly, stared at her with my most soul-less smile – the one that doesn’t reach my eyes and makes the cats incontinent – and said in the best imitation of Clint Eastwood scorn that I could dredge up, “But BCCFN, I don’t have even the slightest interest in low salt foods. None.” and then just as slowly, with the smile still in place, I turned back to my chicken extraction.
Shut her right up and she went right into the house w/o another word.
Ha! Good on ya, Lemur. Puts her in her place without being directly rude or confrontational.
Hmmm….she does it again, you could always do a Jack Nicholson type rant: “Low salt? I don’t want low salt. If I wanted low salt, I’d go buy some. But I like salt. Lots of salt. I’m gonna eat so much high salt food that when I die, Morton’s gonna buy my body and it’ll keep ‘em in business for at least a hundred years after I’m dead, you understand what I’m saying? I don’t want any damned low salt foods!” At least that’s the rant I imagine him saying. Something to that effect.
I’m picturing Cave Johnson in Portal 2…
I’m the same way about low-salt.
I’ve made it a point to salt nearly every damn bite I take when she’s watching.
The other nite I kept taking half a spoonful of couscous salad at a time and putting it on my plate. Then I’d shake some salt out into my palm, pinch some, and theatrically sprinkle it on my food and go “MMMmmmmm” as I ate it. Then I’d pour the remaining salt back into the saltshaker. I did this probably a dozen times, no joke.
Last night I made a vietnamese beef, mint, basil, and cilantro salad and a couple of cups of fish-sauce/lime-juice/garlic/lemon-grass dressing. It’s salty as hell but in the awesome salty-sweet-sour-with-chilies kind of way. After the salad was all gone I’d put more dressing in my bowl and drink it like slurping soup from the bowl.
Not sure if she gets it that I’m pushing buttons. Wasn’t even sure if she got it when I suggested that a big huge bucket of fried chicken gizzards and teriyaki bbq’d chicken hearts sounded good. She did flinch, though.
Must… not… go… into… MIL… rant…
It’s a good thing I’m feelin’ magnanimous today, LK, or the DHS, FEC, FCC, HHS and the CDC would be sending out subpoenas for your server records to find out where I live, what with the rant I could write about annoying/rude/self-centered, stark-raving Moonbat in-laws. I guess I’m learning to center my Chi from reading your Zen-inspiring blog. (That, or the snooch at Soylent Green is helping to tame the inner beast.)
*Puts keyboard away and goes to find a much-needed Newcastle Brown Ale to lower BP*
Good gravy a brown ale sounds good…
See my response to Curtal above.
Wow…you handled that far better than I would have.
You know that, don’t you??
Ok, let’s be fair… she’s a clueless food nazi but not a mean food nazi.
A hundred times out of one hundred I’d rather have had Cruel Wife’s mom for a mom.
She drives me bugcrap but she’s not a bad person.
I should still apply for sainthood, in my view. St. Lemur of the Ringed Tail or something like that.
Be thankful you don’t have my mother-in-law. The first time you meet her, she’s just the sweetest, friendliest, most kind and lovable person you’ve ever seen. Then you turn around and before you can take a breath, knife in the kidney. And she’ll twist it in hard. When you turn back to her in pain and shock, she’s all smiles again. “Oh, sweetie, are you okay? Let me see if I have something for that…”
Wait… my sister was married to you at one point?
Your description of your MiL sounds so familiar I figured it had to be Joansey (maternal unit).
Your MiL sounds evil.
Calling her evil is too nice. And it’s an insult to evil people everywhere.
In-laws: The other reason for pain meds.
Hang in there LK.