An Epiphany

I have an Aunt L. who lives out of the country, but owns the house next to my Mom's, to use when she visits. She has this terrible habit of asking me questions, then telling me that my answers are wrong. She did this consistently when she was here a few months ago, for a wedding:

AL: "I'm reading a really interesting book about the former chairman of China. What's his name? Mao? Mau? Mouse?"

Me: "Mao Tse Tung."

AL: "Nooooooooo, Frank. It's Mao...Mao...Maouse..."

*sigh*

Or:

AL: "I have a pedometer. How do I convert the numbers on it to distance that I've walked?

Me: "If your pace is 3 feet, multiply the number on the pedometer by 3 feet."

AL: "Noooooo, Frank. My pace isn't 3 feet!"

Me: "Well, then multiply it by however long your pace is."

AL: "But my pace isn't 3 feet!"

*sigh*

This continued on through the weekend, and I vowed to begin answering her questions with, "Don't ask me."

Then, in March, we had a surprise birthday party for Mom, at AL's house. That morning, AL called me to tell me to take the food to her house. Where did she think I was going to take it, to Mom's house? To the Salvation Army, perhaps?

Then the light bulb went off.

Earlier in the week, AL's daughter had sent an e-mail to Mom, saying that she was sorry that she would not be able to attend the birthday party. Yes, she knew full well that this was a SURPRISE birthday party. One of AL's sons moved his family from San Diego to Seattle, without having a job there, the summer before his oldest son's senior year in high school. When he did not get a job there, he moved them back to San Diego, again with no job waiting. The last I heard, he's thinking about moving them back to Seattle. Her other son met and married some woman whom he had met on the interwebs. She lives in the Phillipines, he lives here in the US. He thought that she was cheating on him, so he filmed himself having sex with some other woman and sent it to her.

EPIPHANY: Aunt L. thinks that everyone is as stupid as her own kids!

Mom's having surgery this week, so AL came up for it. Oh, joy. The three of us drove two hours to Houston today. Mom slept in the backseat, so I was left with AL. She's one of those types who abhors silence, so she kept chatting the whole way. I knew better, though, answering most of her questions with "Dunno," or, if it was a REALLY obvious answer (such as one that would agree with her viewpoint), "Yup." At one point, she asked if I thought the crops in the fields adjoining the highway were corn or maize, but I didn't fall for it! Instead of picking one option and having her respond, "Noooooooo, Frank, it's the other!" I just replied with, "Dunno." I figure it's better to have her think I'm stupid than to have her tell me I'm stupid.

Driving from the hospital to the hotel, which is at 7710 Main St., AL kept trying to tell me in a tactful way that she thought I was going in the wrong direction. As we drove from the 6500 block to the 6700 block of Main St., she said, "I know I'm always wrong, but I think that it's the other way." Instead of saying, "If you're always wrong, and you think it's in the other direction, then we must be going the right way!" I stayed quiet, and just turned into the hotel parking lot.

I did let my guard down at dinner tonight, though. There was a picture of a crawfish on the menu (and it said, "Crawfish"), so I asked AL if she liked crawfish.

AL: "We call them crayfish."

Me: "Well, do you like them?"

AL: "Not much. I remember when I was young, and it would rain, and the creeks would fill with water, and the crayfish would come out. Are those the same as they serve here?"

Me: "Yup."

AL: "Noooooooo, Frank, don't you think they farm them? Do you think that farm-raised catfish are the same as catfish you get out of a pond?"

Silly me. I thought that when she asked me if they were "the same" she was asking if they were the same animal, not if I thought that people stood around dry ditches, waiting for the rain to come, so that they could harvest the few dozen craw..er..crayfish that came out of their holes.

Four more days with Aunt L. I wish I had a hole I could crawl into.

(I should probably go and see how many of the seven things that make me awe-summm I violated.)