Something's not right with your face

As we speak, mom is throwing a fit. Over nothing. Well, technically, over sweet potatoes that were not put away to her satisfaction, but since it's mom, this has escalated into a melodrama. As usual, she turned on dad, when all he did was suggest that we put the sweet potatoes in yet another part of the fridge that wasn't quite right by her standards.

The sweet potatoes melodrama was directly proceded by a discussion-turned-fight over my lack of internet at home. I'm honestly too sick of it to transcribe it fully but it's worth a try.

Mom: So what's the issue?
A.: The previous owner never turned off her phone service, so when Verizon turned mine on, they connected it to the wrong jack.
Mom: Well, have them come and fix it.
A.: They said they'd charge at least $95 for that. But they also said I could do it myself.
Mom: What does the phone have to do with it?
A.: The DSL uses the phone line?
Mom: So you don't have cable?
A.: No, DSL.

We've discussed this many times, including last night when my parents tried to convince me that I was losing out by not getting cable.

Mom: Well, you can get DSL from any company. You don't have to deal with Verizon.
A.: Actually, I think I do. But the DSL isn't the problem. The phone line is the problem.
Mom: Well, she has to pay her phone bill if she hasn't turned it off.
A.: Right, that's not the issue.
Mom: They'll turn it off if she doesn't pay it.
A.: She'll pay it. The point is I can't connect my phone service until she disconnects hers.
Mom: Can't you go with someone else for internet? Get wireless?
A.: The wireless has to be based on a cable or DSL account.
Mom: No, you can just have wireless.
A.: No, I can't. Can we just stop talking about this? I'm on vacation from house stuff.
Mom: This isn't about the house. It's about DSL.
A.: Which right now is part of my house nightmare.
Mom: I don't understand why we can't talk about it.
A.: Because I don't want to.
Mom: You're so impatient. You will be patient and explain this to my satisfaction!
A.: Please don't tell me what to do.
Mom: Watch your language!

This went on. In circles. Several times. Then the sweet potato fight escalated, and now she's not talking to me. She muttered something about how I shouldn't bother coming for Christmas because we clearly don't get along. Then she spent a few minutes slamming doors and left the house.

A.: What's wrong with her? Who throws fits over sweet potatoes?
Dad: Emotional abuse as a child?
A.: [Shrug]. And last night-- do you think it's right to chew and talk at the same time?
Dad: No. Well, you know, the issue is that she's rude to just about everyone but can't take the slightest reproach directed her way. She's rude to Natasha regularly, but Natasha's used to her antics and just ignores them.
A.: I'm not that saintly.
Dad: Natasha's not saintly to her own family, either. That's just how it is.
A.: But it's not just the slightest reproach-- it's the slightest anything. She overreacts to anything that can be interpreted as criticism.
Dad: Yes, I know.

***
Earlier at breakfast

Mom: You should cut your hair.
A.: I don't want to.
Mom: Well, it's just that your face is round. Are you eating a lot-- is that why you've gained weight?
Dad: Her face is not round.
A.: I haven't gained weight.
Mom: Something's not right with your face.

***
Yesterday

Russians in general tend not to appreciate subtle flavors; if it's not in-your-face, it's bland. Mom and I once made a nice dish of scallops cooked in white wine, garlic and sun-dried tomatoes. Dad dealt with this by dipping the scallops in cocktail sauce.

Mom makes pumpkin bread in the fall. I've never been a fan. I love, love pumpkin bread-- when it's soft and you can taste the pumpkin. But mom likes to drown out any trace of pumpkin with a lot of spices. So this time I tried to convince her otherwise, and we met half-way. It turned out soft and flavorful. She thought it was bland.