WE ARE STILL CELEBRATING ALEXIS' BDAY. THINGS HAVEN'T CHANGED MUCH since she was a kid. As an only child with two extended families, it seemed her bday went on for weeks.
She has always loved The Nutcracker ballet. Not one of my fave's, but hey, it's her day so we climb into the car and drive to Santa Cruz. She has even coerced Bachan to join us.
On the drive over, someone asks why I haven't baked for a while. I'VE BEEN TOO BUSY with holiday shopping, dropping off gifts, the bathroom remodel, resume writing. I usually bake on Sundays and then take the goodies to work. Ever since Alexis was little, we would rate whatever I baked (at the age of 5 she had a hard time making decisions so I thought this little game would help her). A recipe has to have 4-5 stars if I'm ever to bake it again. 1-3 star recipes are torn up, trashed and cursed.
Then Bachan starts talking about ham. God! The damn ham! We have these convos about ham night and day as the holiday nears. I do not exaggerate. It's all Safeway's fault (another reason I don't shop there). They sell it so cheap, Bachan can't resist it. It's like crack to a heroin addict. She can't stop buying hams. I swear, I think we have 4 hams in the house somewhere...in the fridge, in the garage, maybe even one under her bed. She asked me to drop her off at Safeway this morning and she came out with another damn ham. OMG! I'm an enabler!
Who can eat that much ham? We keep telling her we don't want ham, we don't like ham, and please don't buy ham.
We had another heated discussion in the car on the way to the ballet.
CHORUS OF ME, ALEXIS AND JOHNNY: No more ham! No damn ham!
BACHAN: Hamu good. Ebbery buddy lu-voo hamu.
CHORUS: No we don't! Nobody likes ham!
BACHAN: Spilo [spiral] bad. Whole hamu good.
ME: Enough with the ham!
BACHAN: Ebbery buddy eat hamu.
CHORUS: We hate ham!
BACHAN: I gib Malli hamu.
ME: Is she Jewish?
BACHAN: I take hamu Saclamento.
ME: They don't want ham.
BACHAN: Day like ham.
ME: No they don't.
BACHAN: Landy like hamu sanduwich.
ME: He has a heart problem. He's not supposed to eat ham.
BACHAN: Jenny like hamu.
ME: For God's sake! She's a vegetarian.
BACHAN: Hamu good.
ME: It's good once a year; not five whole hams in a week.
BACHAN: You make fly ham. Ham fly lice. Hamu an eggu. Hamu soup.
ME: God! You're a black, Japanese Bubba [from the movie, Forrest Gump]: "You got your fried shrimp, your lemon shrimp, sweet and sour shrimp..."
BACHAN: You make-u gleen bean saladah wit hamu.
JOHN: Man, I haven't had that in years.
ME: Don't encourage her!
BACHAN: Hamu slice...
ME: [groan]
Finally, we get to the auditorium. Bachan has never seen a ballet. We're in the second row. She puts her wet umbrella, bottle of water (she tends to cough and choke to the point of dry heaves in crowded public places which then set off a series of loud, uncovered sneezes), knitted shawl and purse on the seat in front of her.
I explain the story to her while the orchestra tunes up.
The lights dim.
Children and teens in tights and tutus jump through the air, doing pirouettes and flying leaps.
The orchestra plays one rousing Tchaikovsky song after another: Nutcracker Overture, Russian Dance, Waltz of Flowers. They build to a roushing crescendo and then quiet.
The auditorium gently brightens.
Bachan grabs her umbrella, bottle of water, puts on her shawl and picks up her purse.
ME: Whatcha doin', Bachan?
BACHAN: I go.
ME: Uh. It's only half over. This is intermission.
BACHAN: You kidding me?
ME: No. I not kidding you [seamlessly slipping into broken English]. It's only half over. What do you think of it so far?
BACHAN: I gib it one hamu, spilo [spiral].
ME: (sigh)
What little obsession does your Mom or Dad have? Care to share?
May miles of smiles (and no ham) surround you,
Catherine
Ham is our friend Embrace it...I like ham with applesauce. Tons of applesauce over the ham. Or mustard on the side to dip it in before eating each bite. I wish I had ham now.
ReplyDeleteI am NOT sharing your comments with Bachan!
ReplyDelete