Dinner

Mom: I always like it when you're here. I hate making salad.

Mom: I don't like this song.

Mom: I don't like this song.

Mom: Do you seriously like this music?

***
As surprised as mom is, on a daily basis, that I've put on weight, she sure expects me to eat a lot.

A.: Is that whole thing for me? I can't eat that much.
Mom: Try.
A.: I don't want to.

As usual, mom offered up just about everything you can imagine.

Mom: We also have cauliflower.
A.: I think we have enough food, mom.
Mom: Should I put out the marinated mushrooms?
A.: No.

In the end, she did fry up some mushrooms and cauliflower for me (i.e. on a separate, meatless skillet). I was too full to have any, decided to save it for breakfast. My parents don't really do tupperware, so I transferred it to a plate, over a paper towel to soak up the substantial amount of grease.

Mom: What are you doing? You're going to remove all the moisture! You're so... orthodox in everything you do.
A.: How's that?
Mom: You just are.
A.: Shrug.

I've never really liked the taste or texture of excessive grease, but if she wants to search for a deep-seated personality trait behind that preference, I'm not going to stop her.