I was showing Mom a couple of choices of frozen meals for dinner: oven-roasted turkey with red mashed potatoes or Angel Hair Pasta Prima Vera. “Do either one of these trip your trigger?” I asked after, what seemed like, two or three minutes of her staring at the labels.
“I’m just not sure,” she said, switching her attention back and forth between the two boxes.
“Mom, my fingers are starting to go numb,” I commented, trying to evoke a decision. “So if you don’t like either of these, I’ll go get a couple more out of the freezer.”
“Well, I’m just not sure. I’m not too crazy about the mashed potatoes.”
“Oh, and why don’t you like mashed potatoes anymore?”
“Because they taste too potatoey.”
“Okey dokey, that make absolutely no sense. But what about the Angel Hair pasta?”
“I really don’t think I’d like it very much.”
“No? Why not?”
“Because I don’t imagine food made out of some kind of hair would be very good. Angle hair? What is that, some kind of cat?
“It’s pasta, Mom. It’s made out of flour and water and salt, not cat hair! And its angel not angle.”
“Whatever. Besides, that’s like the food they make out of old thread. That’s probably pretty bad too.”
“Old thread? What on earth are you talking about?”
“You know, that stuff in Chinese food. Sewing beans. I swear to God, they’ll eat anything.”
“They? Do you mean Chinese people?”
“No, not them. Those hippies that like to eat with shop sticks because they think they can. But all they do is spill rice and sewing beans all over the tablecloth.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked in frustration as I shifted my grip on the boxes to avoid frostbite. “What hippies?”
“The ones on the TV this morning on some show. They were talking about healthy food and stuff and eating with shop sticks. They looked like idiots.”
“Okay then,” I sighed, trying to get the dinner planning back on track. “I’ll get a couple more meals for you to look at. But, just so you know, Angel Hair pasta isn’t made out of hair. It’s regular pasta but really thin, you know, kind of like hair.”
“Oh, well that makes more sense I guess. I’ll try that one but I think they should change the name to something better. Maybe Not Hairy Pasta.”
“I’ll pass that on to the Lean Cuisine people next time I see them,” I called over my shoulder as I escaped back into the kitchen.