mom: i told those fellows up at the hall that winter was over for us
me: really, why is winter over?
mom: because the skins on the onions are so thin
mom: it called folklore
me: really, folklore, i've never heard of it
mom: well, i wouldn't expect you to know any folklore
mom: i never said you couldn't learn
one of the best things about my mother is that her disdain is nearly universal. sure, i have disappointed her but so, apparently, have lots of other people. so, while i feel for my fellow comrades i am also perfectly willing to sacrifice them. hell, i will safety-pin them to the altar........
which led to......
mom received some christmas presents she was not quite happy with - presents from friends and family alike. if i'm being completely forthcoming, my mother is unhappy with every present on some level. if it's a gift card, well there's the inconvenience of getting to the place, if it's something edible well it's stale or it interferes with her bowel movements. this particular disappointing present was a book. not, as it turns out the book she was expecting to receive. so, during the conversation, when i found myself on the ropes i referred back to this book because i needed a rest from getting my ass chewed off.
me: did you ever get the book you wanted
mom: no, did i tell you? mary gave me the wrong book!
me: yes mom, you told me already
mom: i let mary know that i was some disappointed
me: mother, that's not very nice
mom: well, she should know
me: of course
mom: she gave me some thomas kinkade book. the guy who paints
me: i'm sure its a nice book
mom: i don't know anything about that man and i'm sure its not going to entertain me, its probably christian
me: jesus mom, what's wrong with the christans
mom: i'm just saying, its probably not going to be funny.
later in the conversation - a brief moment of victory......
in mom's chrismas stocking was a little set of upcycled scrabble tiles with magnets on the back that spelled "grandma."
mom: could you tell me what those letters are supposed to be.
me: you put them on your fridge and they spell a word.
mom: well, i'll tell you one thing, they don't spell my name. i can't make them spell my name
me: that's because they don't spell your name
mom: your uncle couldn't figure it out, he thought it might be a game but there's not very many pieces.
me: the letters spell grandma
mom: grandma! are you sure?
me: yes, i'm sure
mom: hang on,
(i hear hush puppies tap, tap tapping across the floor. a long pause ensues)
mom: they do spell grandma
me: i told you
mom: well you know you're not always right
but alas it did not end well for me