Thanksgiving, Part I
9:41 a.m.
We arrived in Toronto in time for supper, which my mother lovingly prepared, even though we had called in advance to try to convince her that we wanted to take her out to dinner. She made a rice, tofu, and vegetable stirfry, and even though her cooking skills are not what they used to be, she really does try to accommodate our vegetarian way of life. She has a habit of trying to be funny by making me look bad, calling me ugly or stupid or fat in front of other people, when it is obvious to everyone that I am none of those things. As a matter of fact, I am just the opposite of the first two, which is the only reason I think she gets away with it, and considers it funny herself. Well, I don�t think it is funny, and this trip I finally got to tell her so.
At dinner and after dinner she referred to me as �that thing, ugh�, and later in the evening, coming out of the movie theatre after we�d taken her to see �School of Rock� (I highly recommend it, by the way. Very very funny.), she said to Daughter, �Who�s that woman next to you, that hag?� Daughter answered something that vindicated me, but I didn�t hear it because I walked quickly ahead so as not to turn around and throttle my own mother in front of strangers.
The next morning Hubby was setting up to practise guitar in the living room, and I asked him if he could do it elsewhere since I also needed to practise and, since I needed the piano, could not do it elsewhere. He was quite amenable, since his instrument is very portable, but my mother got this sour look on her face and started to say, �You mean, I have to listen to that thing?�, only she never got a chance to finish because I stood up and said very loudly, �If you say that, I will get very very angry,� and left the table to go upstairs to get my music.
When I came back to the living room, she and Hubby were talking and I heard her say, �Well I guess I�ll have to walk on eggs around her,� and I answered, �You don�t have to walk on eggs. Just don�t say insulting things about me as a joke, because I don�t find them funny.� And then I proceeded to say that the reason she never heard me practise singing when I lived at home and she was paying for singing lessons was because whenever my Dad was around and I tried to practise, he would make some remark like �Shall I call the doctor?� or he would say �I know that tune�, and then sit down at the organ and play along. And now that I am 46 years old, and a professional, I don�t need that kind of crap.
Anyway, she said that I had made my point and if I kept making it I was going to dull it. And I said, �Okay, I�ve made my point, but has it made an impression on you?� And she said, �We�ll see.� Well, the rest of our visit was quite civil and enjoyable as far as I was concerned. I found it much easier to tolerate her other annoying habits when I wasn�t anticipating a cheap shot from her direction meant as humour.
Son and I took a walk after that, retracing my old route to my junior highschool, C.B. Parsons, which no longer exists as such, but is a private day school, pre-kindergarten to grade 12. It sure brought back a lot of memories sitting in the school yard. On the walk back home I found a diefenbachia (sp?) plant in the garbage, so I broke off a chunk and brought it back with me. Right now it�s in water so it will root and I can plant it. I�ve never had one of those.
Well, I�m out of time right now, so I will continue this later when I get back from work. Toodles.
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