And I Stand By This, TYVM

“All I’m saying,” I was saying the other day, “was that if you want to sincerely thank someone in text, unless you’re under fire or on fire, you can take the time to type out ‘Thank you!’  ‘TYVM!’ just doesn’t cut it.”

“It’s just linguistic shift,” L’s Mother retorted.  “It’s no different than saying ‘goodbye’ instead of ‘God be with ye.'”

“That actually proves my point,” I replied.  “If I want to say ‘goodbye’ and mean goodbye, I’ll say goodbye; if I want to say and mean ‘God be with ye,” I’ll say ‘God be with ye.’  They convey entirely different messages!”

It Seemed Like The Safer Bet

L’s Mother:  One my nephews is asking if we can talk.  I’m guessing he wants to tell me that he’s engaged . . . or pregnant.

Me:  My money is on engaged.

“That Escalated Quickly”

So last night I sampled a food combination I hadn’t sampled in a while, and this morning I woke up with a feeling in my guts that reminded me why I hadn’t sampled that particular combination in while.

L’s Mother (ever the food scholar) speculated that even though I’ve never had that reaction to these foods individually, because they were of the same plant family, perhaps they were reinforcing each other’s effects, and that’s why I was feeling this way.  This observation prompted her to suggest that, “Maybe next time you should add a third member of the same family and see if you–”

“Die?” I somewhat testily (but playfully) finished for her.

But Since I Coudn’t Find The Right Kind Of Mud, I Made Jasmine Instead

“I don’t have much time to make myself a cup of tea,” L’s Mother announced today.

“I can make tea,” I said before asking, “What kind of tea would you like?”

“Any kind,” she foolishly told me.

Flashing her a grin I said, “Worm and mud tea it is.”

“I don’t think worm tea would be very good,” she said with a smirk.

I nodded in agreement.  “Just mud then.”

“Wait, What? Oh!”

“I want to spend more time with you,” L’s Mother told me this morning, “but between L. staying up later and me having to go to bed earlier there just isn’t enough time right now, and I am really tired of being clock blocked!”

I’ve Been Struggling With That My Whole Life, Which Includes The Entire Time She’s Known Me

Last night L’s Mother had an ephipheny.  I’d just finished saying that I needed someone (not her) to stop telling me that I was going to react in a certain way, because it was only making me defensive and therefore less likely that I would react in the way they wanted, when L’s Mother looked at me and said, “I just realized something; you are innately defiant!”.

I have to admit, her saying that to me shook me to my very core.  “You mean you just figured that out now?” I asked in genuine utter disbelief.

My Exact Response Was A Horrified “Oh, God!”

L’s Mother hurt her eye a few days back, not badly, but it looked horrible, more red than any other color, particularly the next day.  So much so that I had already admitted to her that I found the sight of it disturbing.

This is perhaps a weakness I should not have drawn attention to.

The next morning (early enough that I wasn’t even thinking about her eye yet) she came into my office wearing a red and white sundress, and proclaimed, “You never complement me when I wear something that matches my eyes anymore!”.

When NOT Making The Joke Leads To More Jokes

Lala:  I’m going to draw a bath.

Me:  *doesn’t take the joke bait, but it doesn’t make any difference*

Lala:  . . . with crayon!

L’s Mother:  You should use water colors instead!

“Yes, That Was Exactly It”

“Who bought the ‘Would-Kill-Me-If-I-Ate-It pie?'” L’s Mother asked me yesterday.

“Lala,” I answered.  “She knew I was feeling down and thought it might help.”

L’s Mother considered that for a moment.  “And she blamed me for your mood, is that it?” she asked with a smirk.

That’s Just Not Something I Worry About

The other day while eating a dish that included soybeans as an ingredient, L’s Mother took pains to assure me that I didn’t include enough soybeans in my diet to have to worry about Phytoestrogens.

To say the least, I found this an odd choice for dinner conversation, but not wanting to be rude, I assured her that I was far more like to worry about the “Fido estrogen” in our dog, Isa, than I was to worry about something like that.