My mistake.
I meant it was my brother's mother-in-law.
You know how there are some species of animals that eat more than their body's weight per day? Well, I think my brother's mother-in-law must be one of those species, because I never see her not eating. There is never a time that I don't see her noshing, snacking, munching, or nibbling on something.
"Where's Dad?" I asked my patient wife.
"He's taking a nap," she said, which was code for: He went to his room to avoid your brother's mother-in-law. That's one of the rare times I've envied my Dad.
I don't want to say he doesn't like her (he doesn't, but I don't want to say it). Ever since he's lost my mother and his desire to procreate, he doesn't feel the need to put up with annoying women.
"What about your mother?"
"She took one look at her and left."
That didn't really happen, but I bet if my wife had let her mom know in advance about our uninvited guest, she wouldn't have come.
"Why didn't you just not answer the door?"
My wife looked at me, and cocked one angry eyebrow.
"Everybody's welcome in my house," she told me.
Apparently, I'm going to have to buy myself a separate house so I can start keeping people out of it.
My brother hasn't had much luck with mother-in-laws. His first wife's mother (and I'm not making this up) didn't believe we went to the moon, because, "There's not an extension cord that long." Why she thought NASA would use an extension cord to power their rockets is beyond me.
"Was she joking?" I once asked my brother.
"No," he answered.
"How does she explain airplanes?"
"She doesn't."
His current mother-in-law isn't much better. In fact, she's quite a character. Just recently, she wanted to buy a new used car, and I just happened to have a friend who was selling a very nice one. Reliable, low mileage, all the usual car salesman selling points.
"You should tell her," my lovely wife said, not minding her own business and wanting me to not mind mine.
So, against my better judgment, I called her.
My brother's mother-in-law, I mean.
"Who's this?" she wanted to know, after I had already explained who I was.
I explained it to her again.
"Who?"
I don't go through life expecting everyone to know who I am, so I told her that I was her son-in-law's brother.
"Which one?" she asked.
I said my brother's name again.
"Who?"
Finally, after explaining what I was calling for, she acknowledged my existence.
"She finally remembered you?" my brother laughed, when I was telling him the story later.
"Yeah," I told him, "but she still didn't know who you were."
My brother stopped laughing.
In the end, she didn't even buy the car. My friend told me that she was just too annoying to deal with. She wanted him to come to her (which he did), wanted him to accept payments (which he would), but, even after all his concessions, she still wouldn't commit (which was his final straw).
Sitting in our kitchen, she continued to be annoying.
You see, she has two son-in-laws, my brother being one. My brother, well, you already know she won't even admit to knowing who he is. The other one, he can do no wrong. As usual, in cases like this, the son-in-law she adores won't do a thing to help her, while the son-in-law she barely tolerates is the one who gets stuck doing things for her.
What can I tell you?
He loves his wife.
"You know how Dad lives with me?" I once said to him.
"Yeah," he said, but it was more of a question.
"Well, one day you're going to answer the door and she's going to be standing there with a suitcase in her hand."
"That's not going to happen," he sputtered bravely... but he knows it's true.
Meanwhile, his brother-in-law-by-law will be the one whose name will be featured prominently in her will when she goes to that great Mary Kay Cosmetics Convention in the sky.
"My other son-in-law," she was bragging to us as she sat there eating everything, including the plastic fruit (just kidding [but barely]), "he's..."
You can fill in the blanks about what he had or was going to do. He's got the best job, makes the most money, or is the best husband and father.
"Is he doing anything for Easter?" I asked her, pretending to be making conversation, but deep down I had a plan. I think my wife knew what I had in mind, because I could feel her eyes burning into the back of my head. I didn't look, because 1) I'd have to abort my mission, and 2) those angry laser beams shooting out of her pupils would turn me into a pillar of salt.
"Oh, yes," she bragged, "he's throwing a big party. All his big bosses will be there."
"And did he invite you?"
"What?" she said, her eyes bugging out like my Dad's.
My wife, meanwhile, let her elbow do the talking, and it was telling me: "Stop it!"
"Did he invite you to his Easter party?" I pressed.
"I... ah... well..." she stammered, "don't understand you."
I bet she'd understand if I was offering her a pork chop.
Raising My Father
RaisingMyFather.BlogSpot.com
jimduchene.BlogSpot.com American Chimpanzee
@JimDuchene
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