Friday, February 22, 2013

Bay State Cookie

Once again we find ourselves in that bastion of liberally educated women Wellesley, Massachusetts for another episode of "They're My InLaws".  This trip, starring yours truly, features Cookie, The Husband and Husband's parents, with special appearances by my husband's brother and sister. 

This is a visit of "family business", which means I don't have to be on stage a great deal of time.  In fact, I get excused from a great deal of the drama.  Thank God. 

My in-laws are 89 and 90, so there is a great deal OF SPEAKING REALLY LOUD BECAUSE THEY BOTH HAVE A HARD TIME HEARING what we say to them.  

We have also made FOUR trips to Roche Brothers Grocery Store, because that's what we do when we're here.  You have to be careful in Roche brothers because the store is full of the clueless people that live here.  Give these Wellesley women a shopping cart and they completely go into an agressive trance.  All those years of repression and housewifey angst come out in the grocery store as they try and kill you with their shopping carts.  The men here are no better.  They are either coot and coger behind the wheel of their Chevrolet Caprice's, driving at 20 miles an hour in the fifty mile per hour zones, or their young men with small penises and BIG expensive cars who drive at 50 miles and hour in a 20 mile per hour zone.  And all of these people have a phone glued to their ears. 

No fun. 

We have also gone to Dunkin' Doughnuts because its gets us out of the house and away from everything. 

In 24 hours, Cookie and the Husband have consumed a bottle of Gaviscon to help with the stress induced heartburn.

Its hard seeing the people you love grow ancient.  AND its also hard on one being in their house because the furness is turned up to 78 degrees. 

We've been fixing little stuff around the house, a nut and bolt here, and new cord there.  

And we've been cleaning things on the sly.  The inlaws have an aging Brazilian "gentleman" (and I use that in the most Christian of voices) name "Paulo" who comes in once a week and pretends to clean.  They pay him $100 while he prances around in short shorts making dusting motions and saying things like "Oh, Messes Inlaw!  You haave sooch hamsume suns.  Chess.  That is what I, Paulo, thinks."  

Oh, Paulo, Paulo, Paulo...

This morning it was "Hello Paulo."  

And Paulo said "Did chew sleeps well.  That bead eze a nice bead for the sleeping.  Paulo no's deese because I make the bed."

Never mind that I we were coming inside from outside.  Then it dawned on him that we slept at the sister in laws house.  "You deed not sleep in de bed?  Chew have slept somewhere eefrent. Ten, Paulo wants to know, wooo is de body in de bed?"

It was the Husband's other brother who always sleeps "een de bed" when he comes to take the folks out and about.  Poor Paulo.  It's 20 degrees out side and he's in his hot pants and he can't keep track of who is sleeping where. 

The mother in law wanted to buy us some new clothing (Hooray!), but she wanted to get it from "Haband", the catalog for "Active Seniors...featuring easy care polyester clothing for that active life style..."  We passed. 

So we return home tomorrow and will get to sleep in our own bed.  Still, we haven't seen to make much progress on the things around the house.  I guess that they'll keep for the visit. 


  1. I dunno....your inlaws kinda sound like they're living the life.

    Watching Brazilians in hotpants while I lounge in Haband slacks?! Sounds like a little slice of heaven to me.

  2. Nothing but sympathy from me, sweetie.

  3. Believe it or not, there are circles of hell lower than Haband. There's Sansabelt, of which Father Muscato was for many years a devotee...

    1. Cookie's second husband had a friend named Angelo from Pittsburgh. And Angelo was the oily variety bohunk, and he was gay, gay, gay. Pinky rings gay. And Angie moved to Ohio and opened up two men's stores in the 1980's that sold nothing but "Sansabelt". The stores were called "LA Pants". I could never figure out if that was short for L.A. Pants or la Pants (which should have been "le" because men's pants are a masculine noun in French). He was a nice enough fellow, but trapped in the 70s. The tag line on his ads read "Angie says if you can find better pants, buy them." He retired in 1990 to Florida. And no, neither of us every wore a pair for those freakish pants.

  4. I see your Haband and Sansabelt and raise you one Blair (formerly New Process Company)!

  5. HEY! Why wasn't I notified you were in town?!! I need to go to Roche bros! I need to go to Dunkin Donuts. You know I can't rely on Paulo!

    Seriously sweetie, next time you're in town and need an escape I think I can offer better ambiance than Dunkins and I'm just down route 9(as I tell all the boys...)

    1. Will do, I promise. This trip was fast. Planned quickly and up and back. I assume the trip we'll make in May will be more leasurely.

  6. All of kabuki's relatives dropped dead in their sixties. As will kabuki. No need to linger says my gene pool. Or visit