New Year's Eve: Making Dinner

Mom decided to fry up more mushrooms. I started smelling bacon.

A.: Are you using that frying pan? Dad fried bacon in it this morning. Please don't put those mushrooms in the soup!
Mom: Oh, please!
A.: Fine, I'll set aside the mushrooms that are already ready.
Mom: You're being ridiculous! Who cares?
A.: I care.
Mom: Someone fried bacon in this pan at some point in history! So what?
A.: Someone fried bacon in this pan this morning, and the bacon's still there.
Mom: So what? It's just a trace. It's one thing not to eat animals, but who cares what the mushrooms are fried in.
A.: I care. I care. I'm not asking you to care. I'm asking you to respect that I care and thus not fry things that I'm going to eat, in animal products.
Mom: Grrrrr.
A.: Keep growling. I'm going to go listen to my meditation.

I did. Mom kept growling, muttering. When dad came in, she complained to him.

Dad: Well, she doesn't eat animal products.
Mom: It's not even an animal product.
Dad: Yes it is. If she doesn't eat animal products, she doesn't eat animal products.
Mom: It's ridiculous.
Dad: That's not our problem.
Mom: Grrrrr.

More videos of the year

[Cringe... this one is so wrong but so funny...]

The Weinerlogues with Jane Lynch - watch more funny videos

Slide shows

The whole set is spot-on, but I especially like slides 6, 9, and 11.

In this slide show, check out these adorable rescue puppies.

Friday night

We got to the cinema just in time. "The Artist" was cute, beautifully done, and entertaining, though not exactly mind-blowing. Which is fine--sometimes you're in the mood for entertaining-but-not-mind-blowing.

I was still in that mood when we got back to the house. I thought it would be a perfect evening to sit back and do crosswords--I brought the stack that piled up over the last couple of months--with some mindless TV in the background. There was nothing especially good on TV, and I didn't want to get sucked into anything remotely engaging (like CSI), and I wasn't about to watch "Kourtney and Kim Take Manhattan." So I settled on "Transformers." I repeat: this was not for intellectual stimulation. In fact, I'd heard that the film was horrendous and the acting represented an elite level of suckage, so I was kind-of curious about how bad it was. And it didn't disappoint.

Mom came and sat down in the living room.

Mom: Are you watching this?
A.: I am. Would you like to change the channel?
Mom: No.

[Pause]

Mom: Are you really watching this?
A.: I just told you that I was, but I'm not really, so feel free to change it.
Mom: No, it's fine.

Mom: Are you actually enjoying this?
A.: Look, mom--we're either watching this or not watching it. We're not watching it and critiquing at the same time. I know it's a bad movie. There's nothing else on. If you want to channel-hop, feel absolutely free.

Mom: What's going on?
A.: I don't really know. I haven't seen this before.
Mom: Why did he do that? Who's that?
A.: I don't know, mom. Let's change the channel.
Mom: Oh, no, this is fine. The sacrifices one makes for one's children! You're only here for a short time.
A.: It's not a worthwhile sacrifice. I don't care about this movie. It's just here. Change the channel if you want. But if you don't want, stop muttering about what a bad movie it is.

Mom: This movie is awful. Every time I look up, the same thing is happening.
A.: Yup.
Mom: Then why are you watching it?
A.: I'm not. I'm doing crosswords.
Mom: Why did you put it on?
A.: It's not like I went out and bought the DVD. It's on TV and nothing else really is.
Mom: Okay, fine.

Saturday morning roundup

I'm not exactly on the side of the aspiring frackers, but I question the wisdom of farming in the desert without better irrigation. That said, the article ends on the key point: weigh the costs and be honest about them.

Speaking of irrigation... organic produce is not necessarily as sustainable as we think it is. Now, I don't have a problem with non-local per se, because/when it means that produce is grown under more efficient (thus more sustainable) conditions. I do have a problem with inefficient/unsustainable agriculture.

Is sex-ed-by-text-message an effective educational strategy?

Whom would you choose as a celebrity neighbor?

New Year's quiz!

Friday dinner

When mom's in a mood, she gets ridiculous (in a whole different way). She lashes out at everybody, about just about everything, but it's so absurd it's humorous.

Here's some context for today's lash-out session: (1) Dad decided that we should go to "The Artist;" and (2) Mom and Dad spent most of the afternoon--yes, dad took off more time to deal with this thing--moving the sofa. I kept asking if I could be of assistance, and they kept saying no. So I made a salad. By the time mom and dad came in, it was dinner time (if we were going to the movie). I noted that we were low on soup. That was mom's first fit.

Mom: Why didn't you make dinner?
A.: What do you mean? Everything's ready. You all have your fish, and I have my tofu. But if we do a soup course, we're low.
Mom: You could have started frying the onion to add more mushrooms!
A.: I had no idea that's what you wanted to do for soup.
Mom: Ha!

I left. She continued to mutter intermittently about how she couldn't believe that I didn't make dinner.

Later, she called dad and I to dinner. I set the table. Dad went to get wine. I served myself some tofu so I could put it back in the fridge, which I did. Mom later took out a bunch of appetizers, including the tofu.

As we were sitting down

Mom (indicating the tofu): Is this yours?
A.: Yeah, but I won't have any more.
Mom: Then why is it on the table??
A.: Does it matter?
Mom: Yes, it does.
A.: Then it's on the table because you took it out with everything else. I put it back in the fridge.
Mom: It's been here all day.
A.: It hasn't.
Mom: Yes it has!
A.: Are we going to fight about this?
Mom: Hmph!

Mom (to dad): Please get the sour cream.
Dad: It's already on the table.
Mom: I can't reach it over there!
Dad: Why are you yelling?
Mom: Why are you telling me it's already on the table?
Dad: Because it is.
Mom: That's irrelevant. You should have passed it to me.
Dad: I would have, had you said, "please pass the sour cream" rather than said to get it out.
Mom: Whatever.
A.: Please pass the salad.

Dad passed the salad. We should be leaving for our movie, right now, but we're not.

Friday afternoon roundup

Bill Maher has some new rules for you.

Don't seek health, beauty, or any other advice that involves science from celebrities.

People are pretty f*ing sick of fees.

I don't want to have to walk Gracie.

Friday afternoon

Social media roundup

Oh, Fox News.

On the topic of creative uses of social media, the Groupon proposal is creative, Twitter proposal is just lame.

Friday morning roundup

Patriarch Kirill I defends the opposition, but some believe he's just playing the regime's good cop.

Our daughters deserve better than what the toy industry thinks is girly.

I've lived outside of Boston for almost a decade, but I still appreciate the sense of loss over Filene's' demise. Mom and Jay were even discussing it over dinner the other night.

Mark Bittman remains my hero:

But most of us do need to eat “better.” If defining this betterness has become increasingly more difficult (half the diet books that spilled over my desk in December focused on going gluten-free), the core of the answer is known to everyone: eat more plants.

Thursday afternoon roundup

I have to admit that I got caught up in "Girl with the Dragon Tattoo," but I share this blogger's uneasiness with it, and especially with the idea that the novel is about strong women (rather than victimized ones).

I hadn't thought it possible, but here's something to make us hate Valentine's Day even more.

An overwhelming majority of iPhone users prefer to get it on with other iPhone users.

This guy shares my mom's logic about veganism.

Thursday morning roundup

A shadow economy takes hold in Mumbai's most famous slum.

GM corn may no longer be pest resistant; rather, the pests have become resistant.

WTF

I know that sometimes we, I have a tone that we're not aware of, but I promise you that whatever mom heard this morning was completely imagined. I was blogging when mom asked me about the oatmeal.

Mom: Is the oatmeal ready?
A.: I didn't know you were having oatmeal. I'll make you some.
Mom: Did you already have your oatmeal?
A.: Yeah. I can't exercise on an empty stomach.

I get up and make the oatmeal.

A.: You want dried fruit in yours?
Mom: Naturally. And seeds.
A.: What kind?
Mom: Any kind of seeds.
A.: Where are they?
Mom: In that cupboard.

I opened the cupboard, didn't see any seeds.

A.: I don't see any seeds, but I'll look around.
Mom: Hmph! There are seeds.
A.: Okay. Give me a minute.
Mom: I haven't even stretched yet.
A.: Okay, go stretch. We'll heat up the oatmeal when you're ready.
Mom: A.! Your tone! It's so rude! You don't talk to anyone else that way, just your parents! Especially me.
A.: I didn't even say anything, mom!
Mom: Yes you did! You're so rude.
A.: [Sigh.]

That didn't take long

Mom: Of course if you sit at the computer all day, you're going to gain weight!

The ironies here are many, and some I've already discussed. I want to avoid getting into the massive, massive clusterf* of yesterday, in which mom's purchase of a $40 sleeper sofa from a thrift shop (the sofa is actually new) ended up costing three times as much once transportation costs were included. Also, dad had to take a day off work. And it's still sitting outside, because they can't get it into the house. But for our purposes, I bring up the sofa because it's central to how I ended up walking for hours yesterday, willingly.

I had plans to meet a friend in town for lunch. My parents would pick up the U-Haul, which they believe sat three in the cab, and drop me off downtown. I would hang out until it was time to meet my friend, and take the bus (or something) back afterward. I don't love buses--the ones in DC are notoriously unreliable, but in Boston, I just don't have a good idea anymore of where to catch the Express bus (and the local ones are very unreliable).

To make a long story shortish, we got to U-Haul and learned that the cab only seats two. Mom said she'd drop me off at the local bus stop. This was a horrifying prospect. I asked her to drive me a few more miles, to the bridge to Harvard Square, where I could take a non-horrendous T line (the B train of the green line is as bad as the local bus; the few times I've taken it, I noticed that I could walk faster than that train moves). So mom complained but grudgingly dropped me off where I'd asked. It took all of five minutes. Perhaps you think I should be (more) grateful--and I'm not ungrateful--but I don't feel guilty about mooching rides off of my parents because that's the predicament they put me in by living in the suburbs. When I lived in Boston, I lived several minutes' walk from a T stop. But I digress.

Even before the U-Haul cab issue came up, my mom didn't get why I would stand for having to hang out in town for a few hours. I love hanging out in town. I would do it more, only my parents live in the f*ing suburbs and the public transportation is a pain in the ass. So this, to me, was a win-win.

As it turned out, I didn't get much time to hang out in town. I ended up just walking from Harvard Square, which was even better. It was a nice day, though a little windy. I got there a mere half-hour before I was to meet my friend, and after lunch, I decided to just walk back. I made it past Harvard Square, out to the Publick Theater, by the time my parents were in the same area, having returned the U-Haul.

When I met them, after having walked from the Back Bay, mom told me my hair looked messy.

Hair

Mom hasn't told me yet this morning that I've put on weight, but she has told me that my hair looks better down. Mom rarely misses an opportunity to tell me that my hair doesn't look better in a different way, although she did tell me at dinner last night that it looked good. Unlike the weight thing, or maybe just like the weight thing, the hair thing is hilarious because it's nonsensical. This morning, my hair was pulled back because I was exercising. Yesterday afternoon, when mom told me my hair looked bad, I had been walking for over an hour in the wind.

Mom started nagging me about my hair perhaps a full decade before she ever started nagging me about my weight. Doesn't matter if I'd just woken up, just come in from a bike ride, etc.; mom would let me know that my hair didn't look good.

At least she's consistent.

Wednesday dinner

Jay IMed to say he'd be late. Actually, I'd IMed him first to let him know that dad was really excited that we were having a real dinner. It's been hot dogs for them (and salad for me) all week. I think it's been blah dinners since mom's knee replacement. Anyway, since Jay would be late, I was at the computer, at the opposite end of the house from the front door, at 7pm when he knocked.

Mom: A.!
A.: Coming!

I started to walk toward the front door.

Mom: A.!!
A.: I said I was coming.

Mom: A.!
A.: Will you calm down? I said I was coming.

Mom: Will someone get the door?
A.: What is wrong with you??

I got the door. And vented to Jay the minute he walked in.

***
I'd set the food out on the table, and mom kept suggesting more stuff to put on the table, as she does. Never mind that dad made fish (I made tofu) for dinner; let's put a different fish out as an appetizer. I said quit taking stuff out of the fridge and sit down. Once we sat down, mom kept ensuring that Jay had everything possible on his plate, and she snapped at me whenever I tried to protect him or remind him that there were still two courses to come.

***
The phone rang. Dad brought the cordless to mom.

Mom: A., Maria's son would like to know whether it's okay for him to call you.
A.: Um, I'd rather he didn't.
Mom: So, should he call you on our home phone or on your cell.
A.: Did you hear me? He shouldn't call me.
Mom: Where should he call you.
A.: Your phone. Especially next week.

Mom put down the phone and started telling Jay about how wonderful this guy is.

A.: Do you even know his name, mom? If he's so important to you, why don't you know his name?
Mom: Why does his name matter?

Mom continued to go on about how great this guy must be and how Maria is psychic, so she must be on to something in terms of trying to hook us up.

A.: Mom. I'm seeing someone.
Mom: So?

Mom continued to tell Jay about how these men who take care of their mothers are wonderful.

Jay: David [his ex] takes great care of his mother.
A.: Rush Limbaugh takes great care of his mother.

Mom continued. I asked her whether she realized how absurd the conversation was. Jay realized it. Jay is really happy for me. He's happy that I'm happy. Mom apparently couldn't care less.

***
Jay (to me): The house looks really clean. Was that your doing?
A.: Not really.
Jay: Huh.
A.: Did you hear that?
Dad: Huh?
A.: Jay says the house is very clean.
Dad: Which? This house?
A.: Yeah.

Dad laughs hysterically. And keeps laughing. It's like the funniest thing he's heard in a year. He laughs, and laughs, and laughs.

Wednesday--making dinner

Mom: I don't understand how you can make mushrooms without butter. I don't understand it. (Rinse, repeat.)

[Pause.]

Mom: The most important issue here is that you're getting fatter and fatter on this plant-based food.

Mom blog analysis III

Russians have a funny relationship with rules. This occurred to me when I saw my dad push open a door that said "Do Not Enter/Employees Only/Protective Eyewear Required." I saw him do something similar at Lowe's when they last visited--he tried to cut something that was indicated to be the domain of employees. And he saw the signs, both times, and didn't care. In fact, when I yelled at him today for opening that door, he said that people who follow rules all the time never get anywhere.

Last year, he and I and Nina and Nina's mom were looking for a place to park at Houghton's Pond for a winter walk. Nina's mom suggested we park in the handicapped spot because there wouldn't be handicapped people who needed it that day.

I've seen enough of my parents' friends do similarly infuriating things that I really do think there's something cultural to it. They grew up in a time and a place where there were rules everywhere, and those rules were arbitrary and oppressive. It doesn't occur to them that restrictions are likely there for a reason.

I've gotten into arguments with my parents about this kind of thing because I won't accept why they can't just do as requested. It seems like common courtesy. I've also gotten into arguments with my parents because they don't respect my rules, things I've requested of them just because.

***
My mom has hardly softened with age, but the effect of her natural brusqueness has. She's always struck me as unintentionally rude, partly because she won't speak in complete sentences. If she stops someone to ask for directions, she won't say, "excuse me--could you please tell me the way to Gloucester Street?" She'll just say "Gloucester Street!" This, of course, has the additional disadvantage of people not always knowing what you're talking about. But my bigger point is that while mom has always been this way and she hasn't gotten any better, people take it better now that she's an elderly lady rather than a middle-aged grumpy woman with an accent. She's not actually grumpy, mind you; she's just Russian, and this inevitably comes off as grumpy. But now, when she yells "no bag!" to the grocery bagger or cashier, he or she is not offended, thinks it's kind of cute. I would still prefer that mom say, "I don't need a bag; thank you," but I can't change mom. I can only take comfort in the fact that the world at large appears to be generally more receptive to how she comes off.

Wednesday morning roundup

Somali women and girls are bearing the violent brunt of the conflict and famine.

Meet the Israeli taliban.

Does Yad Vashem have double standards?

Drunk shopping is apparently a thing.

"Good morning" is so 20th century

I was heading downstairs this morning just as mom was getting up. She came out of her bedroom, saw me, put her hands on my stomach, and said, "you've gained weight... from your vegetarianism."