Oh sweet Jesus. Head Teacher is currently sitting at the table with my grandmother repeating her nonsense about all Americans owning bread machines. She's explaining further upon being challenged now by my grandmother's confusion at the statement -- the doctor and nurse she stayed with as a host family when she lived in Delaware had a bread machine. All. American. Families. Have. Bread. Machines. Foreigners eat bread. A lot of bread. Bread is the main food.
Grandma INP: "Actually, I'd say meat is more important...."
Head Teacher: "AMERICANS EAT BREAD AS MAIN FOOD. MY HOST FAMILY MOTHER MADE BREAD IN A BREAD MACHINE EVERY DAY."
Grandma INP: "...... I like chicken."
Oh my god. I don't even know how to handle this train wreck right now.
- I'm no Picasso
- This is a tale of the seaports where chance brings the traveler: he clambers a hillside and such things come to pass.
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4 comments:
I would have paid money to just sit quietly in the same room. I might have to wear a gag ball on my mouth though.
Your grandmother sounds awesome!
The answer: don't handle it. Let the majesty unfold on its own.
I would throw myself out the window just to give them something different to talk about.
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