Granny Mind Meld

Sunday breakfast was winding down and Bill and I were clearing plates and loading the dishwasher.  As he rinsed egg yolk from the dishes, Mom held up her almost empty plate and waggled it in my direction.

“You’re all done?” I asked, noticing the two inch-long piece of perfectly crisped bacon that remained.

“Yeth,” she mumbled around her last mouthful of toast.

“You didn’t finish your bacon,” I said, picking it up and stuffing it into my mouth.  “That could be considered un-American you know,” I finished with a grin.

She gave me a blank look and dumped her morning ration of pills from a little pink pill vile onto her neatly spread napkin.

“Was it too hard to chew?” I asked, since this has become a recent complaint as well as an excuse to consume vast quantities of pasta.

She gave me another blank look, then pursed her lips together in thought.  After a few silent moments went by while she pondered this apparently difficult question, I continued.  “The reason I’m asking is…“

“I’m not a mind reader, you know,” she broke in abruptly.  “No, it wasn’t too hard to chew.  I just didn’t like it.”

“You don’t like bacon?” Bill inserted with a note of incredulity as his head snapped up from the egg incrusted pan he was scrubbing and he stared at her in disbelief.  “Everybody likes bacon!”

“Well I guess I’m not like everybody,” she quipped, popping another pill into her mouth and sipping her OJ.

“No, I guess not,” I inserted.  “And the reason I asked if it was too hard to chew is because we’re having pork chops tonight and if a strip of bacon’s too tough, a pork chop is out of the question.”

“I said it wasn’t too hard to chew.  And I don’t know if I’ll be able to chew a pork chop or not.  I said I wasn’t a mind reader!”

“What does being a mind reader have to do with whether or not you can eat a pork chop?” I asked in exasperation.

“Because, I don’t know what you’re going to ask me and I can’t read your mind because I’m not a mind reader!” she replied curtly.

“Well aren’t we in a mood,” I shot back.  “I guess it’s lucky you can’t read minds because you wouldn’t want to be inside my head right about now.”

“Probably not,” she replied with a dismissive shrug.  “I have enough trouble keeping track of what’s going on inside of my own head.”



One Comment on “Granny Mind Meld”

  1. lynn says:


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