Can’t Hold A Candle To His Mother

, , , , , | | Related | August 10, 2019

This happened as my fiance and I were getting ready to move into our own place. 

His mother and grandmother were going through their old plates and other household items to show them to us to see if we’d be interested in taking anything with us. (No, not really, they had very different tastes than I do). 

One of the household items they unearthed was a set of depression-era candle holders. One pair was crystal, and the other was coin glass. They put them off to the side to put away later, and eventually, my fiance and I left. 

Later, they called him to accuse me of stealing a single holder from each pair. When they went to look, they were each missing one. 

As per my fiance’s suggestion, they checked the others they had left and realized that they had swapped them when putting them away. According to my husband, they never apologized for accusing me. 

And he wonders why I don’t get along with his mother.

Regular Attendee At The Church Of Irony

, , , , , | | Related | August 9, 2019

(Several years ago, for Christmas, I found an old letter to Santa where I asked for my gifts to be given to people in more need than me. Moved, and knowing my family are all big givers at Christmas, whenever they ask what I want I tell them about the letter and ask them to donate to charity in my name. One night, my father-in-law drives me home after my wife leaves our family workplace early in our car, and this exchange occurs.)

Father-In-Law: “You know, [My Name], I’m glad we got this chance. I wanted to talk to you about Christmas. You know, your mother-in-law likes giving gifts at Christmas, and she is upset that you won’t tell her what you want.”

Me: “I’ve told all of you I’d like you to donate to a charity in my name.”

Father-In-Law: “Well, don’t expect that from us. She feels she has to buy everyone a gift.” *adds with a laugh* “And I just don’t believe in charity.”

(Flash forward to this Thanksgiving. He and my mother-in-law are now going through a divorce which he unilaterally announced last Thanksgiving. In order to fit in an additional dinner to our schedule, and to save us the time and money for making a Thanksgiving dinner for just him, my wife and I invite him to our church’s Thanksgiving dinner. He behaves himself well enough, but on the way home, we have this conversation:)

Father-In-Law: “It’s good for you all that you have your little community, but I don’t think I’d go again. The price you pay is too high.”

Me: *thinking, the meal was free* “What price?”

Father-In-Law: “I guess the price you people charge for that meal is making us listen to those stories about God.”

Wife: “Yes, it’s Thanksgiving, Dad. We like to share with each other what we are thankful for. We used to do that.”

Father-In-Law: “Well, I don’t think it’s right that you all feel like you have to get together in a certain place with the same people. I talk to ‘The Man Upstairs,’ as I like to call him, and he tells me that I don’t have to go to a building to communicate with him.”

Wife: “Yes, that’s true, but he does tell us not to forsake gathering together.”

Father-In-Law: “But why is that?”

Wife: “Because, like parts of a body, we rely on each other for help doing things we may not be able to do ourselves.”

Father-In-Law: “Well, that may be true, but you don’t need a church to do that. You can take care of other people just any way you want. What I think is that the church is made up of people who say they want to help each other, but in the end, it’s just the preachers that take what people give for themselves. I’d rather not deal with that. No, I’m happy to rely on myself and not darken the door of a church.”

(Flash forward to the present. My father-in-law is looking into a retirement home, and we are along to tour the facilities.)

Tour Guide: “This is our extended studio apartment option. For your budget and living situation, it’s the largest living space we’d consider.”

Father-In-Law: “Well, I don’t know about living in some studio for the price you’re charging. Don’t you have houses?”

Tour Guide: “We have one house on the property, but it is currently occupied and is usually reserved for couples.”

Father-In-Law: “Doesn’t your location in [Large Suburb of Nearby Major City] have mostly houses?”

Tour Guide: “I’m not sure. We’re a separate company. One man founded several long-term care facilities throughout the country and named them all after his favorite theologian.”

Father-In-Law: “Well, it’s funny that you do this as a business, then! Why, back in those days, people of the church would take care of the elderly as a charity!”

Worse Than A Bad Cop Is Bad Writing

, , , , | | Related | August 9, 2019

(My grandfather is a retired cop. Sometimes I ask him how accurate police in TV shows are. Other times I’ll ask him what he thinks of real court cases. In this instance, I am asking about a show but forgets to specify.)

Me: “So, if two guys were fugitives, but they never switched their car — never even switched their license plates — why couldn’t the cops track them down in an instant? And their faces are everywhere; it’s not like they even grew a beard!”

Grandfather: “Well, you have to cut officers some slack. Many of us are overworked and underpaid, and there are a number of reasons why they wouldn’t be able to find these criminals.”

Me: *interrupting him before he gets too far* “Ah… Um, it was in a show.”

Grandfather: “The writers are idiots! There is no reason for those men to remain at large.”

Don’t Need Any Old Spice

, , , , | | Related | August 8, 2019

(My dad’s new wife loves spicy food, and I don’t, since it gives me a painful rash. I’ve told her this, and she just clucks. She cooks up a stew for us and it smells great. There’s a spicy smell but I figure that it’s coming from hers and Dad’s dishes, since they like it. Lo and behold, one bite and I’m panting and whimpering, and my lips and mouth hurt.)

Dad: “Why did you put hot sauce in [My Name]’s dish? She’s told you she doesn’t like it.”

Stepmom: “I only put a little of my homemade hot sauce.”

Dad: “Your homemade hot sauce? It’s poison!”

(He doesn’t mean literally poison; it’s just an expression he uses to say it’s really spicy.)

Stepmom: “Meh. She’ll have to get used to it! Spicy foods are good for the soul. It helps the circulation, too.”

(Since then, I’ve asked her not to prepare me a dinner, since she doesn’t get it. She ignores me and prepares me another stew the next day; however, this one doesn’t have any hot sauce. It tastes a bit bland, so I grab the black pepper and start putting some flavor in it.)

Stepmom: “I thought that you didn’t like spiciness! Black pepper is spicy!”

Me: “Not to me. It’s nice and tangy.”

Stepmom: “Pffft! You young people can’t make your minds!”

(At least she stopped then.)

Won’t Be Getting His Paws On That This Christmas

, , , , | | Related | August 7, 2019

(It’s Black Friday and my sister-in-law told me a few days ago that my nephew wants the “Paw Patrol” tower. I tell her I will try to convince my father to buy it for him. We’re at a store when I mention to him the gift he could buy for his grandson. Just so you know, my father is known for being a bit cheap.)

Dad: “Sure, I’ll buy it for him. How much does it cost?”

(I go to the toy selection and see it costs about $70. I then turn back, not even going to attempt to get it, and return to my dad.)

Me: “Never mind. I know you’re not going to get him that.”

Dad: “Why? Tell me how much it costs.”

(I then show him where I found it, and he sees the price.)

Dad: “Yeah, you’re right. I love my grandson but not that much.”