Other people's teevee choices, like their sexual preferences, are just wrong if they aren't YOUR teevee choices.
My mother-in-law doesn't watch Two and a Half Men. She watches Dr. G. on Discovery Health.
My father passed on The Office in favor of Becker.
Makes me actually look forward to returning to Moscow on Friday where I'm, once again, in control of the remote.
That said, I always secretly enjoy those rare nights when The Spouse is out of town, and I can trade Air Crash Investigation for America's Next Top Model reruns and What Not to Wear.
One man's trash is, indeed, another man's treasure.
But seriously, after watching an episode of Dr. G., Skittles was concerned about The Spouse.
"Are you in Grave Danger?" she asked The Spouse at lunch today, referring to his recent pulmonary thrombosis scare.
"Why do you ask?" we asked her.
"Because Dr. G. showed the guy with the kidney problem who dropped dead," she answered.
Actually, the visit to the In-Law Village was uneventful, pleasant even, except for the terrifying Dr. G. episode.
We took the kids to two movies (Alvin and the Chipmunks: The Squeakquel and The Frog Princess).
Skittles played dominoes with the In-Laws.
We had some meals out with The Spouse's grandmother.
Grandma M is going to be 94 on Friday.
At once of these lunches, we went to Rita's, a place known for its home-made pies. I was all excited for pumpkin pie, having missed my chance at Thanksgiving.
But, alas, by the time we got around to ordering dessert, they were out of pumpkin pie.
BUT! Later that same afternoon, Mother-In-Law made me a pumpkin pie. From scratch. With the Libby's recipe. (To my foreign readers: the Libby's Pumpkin Pie recipe is THE gold standard for pumpkin pie. Period.)
For this I forgive her the teevee choices.
But I digress.
Grandma M is in fine form.
Really. She's been living in an assisted living facility/nursing home for over a year now. Twice in the past few years we thought she was on her way out. But she's better now than I have seen her in a LONG time. Plus, she's sort of getting used to be waited on in the nursing home.
She's got color in her cheeks.
She's got a rapier tongue. (Her: "Your girls are awfully quiet." The Spouse: "Uh huh." Her: "Because YOU TALK TOO MUCH!" The Spouse: "Huh?")
And the little man we all have in our heads who holds up his hand and tells us, "STOP!" . . . she doesn't have him.
Lunch is over. The Spouse has gone to pull the car around. Mother-In-Law and I are helping Grandma M from the table to the car. Grandma M always needs a moment before standing or sitting. She's focused now, summoning her energy to stand and shift her weight to her walker.
Me: "Can I help you? Do you need anything?"
Her, struggling to stand: "WHAT I NEED IS SOMEONE TO SQUEEZE MY PEE HOLE CLOSED."
There are two other diners in the restaurant. One, an older man, might, I pray, be hard of hearing. The other, a younger man, clearly in control of all his senses, just looks at his plate and keeps eating.
Mother-In-Law and I lock eyes over Grandma M's head.
"This WILL be in the blog," I tell her, sotto voce.
Waiting... - *In October on Manezh Square, outside of the Kremlin* It's the final countdown until the Olympics... Here's a link to an article that was in the "Russia ...
3 years ago