Patience is what I have

Lunch with the aunt. Last week (actually for two weeks) the conversation was about fruitcakes.  Particularly Collins St. fruitcakes in Texas.

Lunch companion Barbara talked of getting them every year.  As a sort of joke/gesture, I sent one to her last week. I consulted with aunt and she said “make it from both of us.” Apparently they didn’t put the requested “from Becky and Sippy.” Barbara thanked the aunt for the fruitcake.  Aunt yelled to her “I DIDN’T GET YOU A BRIEFCASE!”  When she loses her hearing, she does it in a big way. Also she has no memory of me telling her I was going to do it.

After lunch we gathered at Barbara’s door to have a fruitcake party. And while greathusbandbob suggested it, I’m pretty sure he didn’t think it was going to happen and certainly not right away. Trapped in a little room with 4 ladies over 87 (aunt was the youngest one) oozing over fruitcake. And no one really hearing a thing anyone was saying.

I took this opportunity to go to aunts room and set up her  new tv remote (lost since she’s been there) so that she can see the bottom of her screen.  Much to my surprise not only did I get the remote to work, I changed the wide zoom to normal zoom and would not have to try to figure it out under pressure.

Upon returning from the fruitcake party I showed her the change and at first she was pleased, repeatedly asking “how did you do that?”  She finally heard my answer after asking the 4th time “I got a new remote.”  She didn’t hear it earlier because she was still asking the question.

After watching for a few minutes (checking to make sure she could see the scores) she said “it didn’t work. I still can’t see the numbers. (As if she could see them even if they were there-she says she can’t identify the food on her plate.) So I go back into settings and because the remote is new (and greathusbandbob is usually the boss of all remotes) the picture disappears.  While I am trying to manage the buttons and collect the necessary order of operations in my head, greathusbandbob is to my right saying “try channel 2,” aunt is to my left saying “slow down, what does that say on the bottom?” She can’t read a 60 pt font right in front of her so I don’t even know how she knew they were words. Breathe in, breathe out. Fuckity fuck.

I got the tv talking to the cable box again and moved in close to try to adjust the picture saying “talk amongst yourselves.” No success but kind of like the story where the Rabbi tells the guy complaining about the noise in his house to bring the barnyard animals in the house, when they are finally gone, the house seems quiet— When there was finally a picture, she minded less about the words on the bottom.

In other take a breath moments, greathusbandbob and I became the couple where one tells the story and the other corrects.  He maintains no details so when he makes shit up I just give a little under the breath correction.  I can’t believe it’s come to this.  Usually I leave him alone but he was missing the heart of the story. 

Him: Becky and I were married 

Me: we were dating, it was our first date.

You get the idea.

Later on he shared the story about getting aunt a cheaper lifty chair- the jack in the box version.  Crank it and up she pops. When she goes, nobody knows.  She looked at me and asked “how many times have you heard that one” and I said I’m not sure but I was the one who told it to begin with.

This evening, after the Browns lost, he went upstairs and got a list of Netflix shows he wrote down.  This likely came from a Facebook/huffington post type list called “what to watch.”

The first one he pulled up was mystery science theater 3000.  If you’re not familiar, it shows old B movies with generally funny commentary from three robot silhouettes presumably at the front of the theater.  I have been watching this show for YEARS.  I remember trying to get him to sit still for an episode when we were first married.  Turns out he still doesn’t like it which is fine.

The real kicker was Unbreakable Kimmy Schmitt.  This is another one we’d watched the first episode of and he refused to consider it.  This evening he watched all of episode 1 and said “that one might be a keeper.”  I never even told him.  It would have been like telling him there was no meat in the lasagne he ate tonight. Because really, 

All’s well that ends well.