Friday, April 9, 2010


"Go to Hell."

"Really, that's what she said?"

"Yup, we were all sitting at the dining room table cringing. My poor 80 year-old Dad was just looking down into his lap; curling up into a little ball."

"So she was standing there in the kitchen making coffee and..."

"...And swearing, yelling like she was really, really mad."

"And when she came to the table?"

"Nothing, sweet and cheery, like nothing happened. No one dared to say anything we just looked down at our plates as we finished our dessert and drank our coffee. I couldn't get out of there fast enough! On the drive home I said to my son 'I'm not coming back...ever'. Do you think it was me? I think it was me. Or maybe it was her. Maybe she's losing it. Maybe she didn't even know she was saying it aloud, she's in her late 60's so maybe her mind's going off a bit."

This was the snippet of conversation I caught as I returned to the restaurant table. Rod, Austin and Linda were all nodding in agreement that our friend's step mother's behaviour was most strange.

It seems that our friend was having dinner at her father's place a few weeks ago. Her step mother (from now on referred to as SM) was making coffee. My friend came in with a load of dishes she'd cleared from the table and noticed the woman making coffee "like you would do if you were camping, putting the grounds in the coffee pot rather than in the filter, and then pouring the water into the reservoir. I said, 'what are you doing?' and she said this is how we make it in Finland. No, it's not I was saying to myself. But she insisted it was, so I just left the kitchen thinking whatever."

And shortly after the now infamous "GO TO HELL" rang out from the depths of the kitchen for all to hear. My friend, thought perhaps her SM had taken offence at her attempt to help but, being too polite to say it to her face then and there, she waited til her step daughter had left the room.

The conclusion was that either her SM was yelling at her or her SM was losing her mind.

"Maybe she was yelling at the coffee pot," Austin suggested.

"Well, that's kind of odd isn't it?" Linda replied and all agreed; all but me that is.

"What's so odd at swearing at a coffee pot? I swear at pretty much everything in the kitchen: coffee pots, dishes, the crap on the floor, bananas; you name it, at one time or another I've sworn at it. That's how I do most of my cooking; swearing, running around, throwing things, spilling things. In fact, the kitchen has the highest percentage of swearage in the house. It's my ALL SWEARING ALL THE TIME ZONE. Most of the time I'm not even aware that I'm doing it, but once I leave the SWEARING ZONE, I'm OK. It's like Vegas, what happens in the kitchen stays in the kitchen. She probably didn't even realize that you guys could hear her. It wasn't directed at anybody; she's just frustrated that's all."


They just looked at me with utensils poised at their mouths for what seemed like an eternity with the expression "uh huh there's another one," written across their faces.

Oh well, "Live long and prosper, Na-Nu Na-Nu", I say.

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