Thursday, June 08, 2006
SEND A SALAMI...
My car reeks of salami.
This, as a result of my role as food trafficker for my mother-in-law.
Food is not the central thing in life - it is life itself. Try living without it and I quote. She does present a cogent argument. My mother-in-law and her sister speak, oh five, six times a day. Who am I to knock it? Some chat on the phone, some e-mail and blog. They have the phone, they talk. The length of their conversations, not long; the topic - food, sales, shopping market circulars. Oh, and of course, the grandkids, but first food and what's on sale where. If she knew that as I type this I have no idea what a half gallon of milk or a dozen eggs go for at our local store, no less at 4 different locations, she would ask "Oh, you guys are rich? Put one dollar to one dollar, you get two dollars". Truth is, I am sure not a soul alive could save money the way this woman does, but she has not been to a movie theatre in ten years on the other hand.
Now the reason my car reeks is that MIL's sister mentions that she is running low on salami. She dare not run out, her son - the doctor (please know to say that with a Jewish inflection - just trying to be helpful) eats it. Dr. Salami (a renowned plastic surgeon) would die a thousand deaths if any of his patients could see him in his parents' quaint Queens home chowing down on the stuff. Back to the price wars: MIL to sister, "How much do you pay? I can get it cheaper on 99th St." And so, it comes down to me to deliver the contraband from time to time enroute to work. Often, I don't know what I'm trafficking, only if it requires refrigeration. Only today, I forget and realize when I am leaving, nope won't have enough time to deliver in the am. Call MIL from the car "Let your sister know not to expect me this am, I got a late start, I'll stop by on my way home"...MIL: "Oh, that's a shame, she already opened the door and is waiting for you. It's okay Gina, go this evening." Right. Have a good day. I no longer feel guilty or annoyed by these comments. I just breathe, ohmmmmmm, and reply "Feel good - talk to you later".
Well, when I get to my office, I look at the salami in the bag (along with a bottle of sleeping pills - don't ask) and think, I'm not bringing that into my office and so leave it there in the back seat.
When I get into my car this evening, it reeeeeks! The smell is still in my brain. Actually, it's probably in my hair. I drop it off at her sister's and now the fight over currency. How much is it? I don't have this privileged info. She calls. Now they're in a fight over sister not paying this time. MIL owes her for flour and sugar on sale last week at Pathmark. Sister shaking. Me? I just want to go home, thank you. Calm sister down, go out to my VienerMobile, open windows - wide and drive home.
I draw the line at manure for their gardens. All right, I'll deliver it in the morning then.