Don't cry over spilled oatmeal

For those of you who have ever had a difficult in-law live with you, this one is for you.

The best way to describe the state of my mother-in-law's mind at the time of this incident would have to be delusional.  For the whole time we lived under the same roof, she always seemed to be in her own little world where nothing else mattered but her wants and desires.  I think she would have been happiest if we had relinquished the reigns of the household into her "capable" hands.

This story took place in our kitchen, late at night, on one of the hottest, muggiest nights of the year.  Our air-conditioning had never been the greatest.  When the sun would beat down all day and the temps were in the 90's, we were lucky if it was 10 degrees cooler in the house.  Trying to sleep in that weather was always difficult for me.

My mother-in-law loved to cook large batches of food that she would nibble throughout the week.  Unfortunately, she loved doing this at night, usually around midnight or later.  The problem was, I had to get up in the morning and go to work.  Struggling to fall asleep in the heat and then having to endure the smell of her food as she was cooking, did not make me very happy.

No matter how many times I told her to cook during the day, (since she didn't have a job and was home all day) it always ended up being close to midnight before she'd pull out the Le Creuset cast iron pot.

Her favorite thing to make was oatmeal, a whole vat of it at a time.  

On this night, I saw the telltale signs around 11 p.m. or so.  Pot on the stove. Oatmeal container next to it.  I started to get worried.  With the heat I didn't know how I would get enough sleep to face the next day at work.  I politely asked if she could wait until the morning, since it was supposed to cool off the next day.  I thought I got through to her.  It would have been a first, but I was hopeful.  I went back to my room.  

About 5 minutes later, the smell of oatmeal danced down the hall and into my nostrils.  It probably wouldn't have been so bad, but I knew what was coming next.  She always put creamy JIF peanut butter in her oatmeal.  Not only would I have to endure the extra heat and humidity that boiling food on the stove would cause, but now I would have to try to ignore what smelled like peanut butter cookies wafting through my room.  Peanut butter cookies….I love peanut butter cookies!  Aughhhhhhh!

I tried to stay calm.  I tried to be understanding.  But why, when she always did what she pleased and didn't care about anyone but herself.  Anger started rising.  Must…stay…calm.  I knew if I went out there it was going to be ugly.  Patience…..understanding…………PEANUT BUTTER!  A scream ripped through the inside of my head, "I CAN'T TAKE IT ANY MORE!!!!"

Down the hall I went.  I was about to do something I had never done before in my entire life, I was going to completely lose it.

Mother-in-law was at the stove, merrily stirring her bubbling vat of faux-cookie-smelling-oatmeal.  I gritted my teeth.  I went over and opened the kitchen door that leads out to a nice screen porch and flipped on the lights.  Circling back, I grabbed a couple of pot holders, went over to the stove, and whisked away the vat while she was still stirring.  Then I barreled out to the screen porch, fumbled with the screen door with my hands full, stomped down the wooden steps to a cement patio, and hurled the cast iron pot, and the sloppy glop within, toward a sloping flower bed a few feet away.

By this time, mother-in-law had wandered out to the screen porch, dazed and confused and angry.  

"Well!  Bring it back in here so I can wash it because I'm not going out there to get it!" she said in her annoying clipped, snotty voice.

Is it possible to go beyond completely losing it?  Why yes, yes it is.  And I went.  Completely.  Beyond.

While she was speaking, I had started back up the steps, but at her words, I stomped back down them again.  I rushed toward the flower bed, not seeing a landscaping rock hidden in the shadows, and fell to my knees.  I was up on my feet again like a springing cat.  I felt no pain.  I dashed over to the pot, no potholders this time, and yanked it up by the handles. I think the heat of my rage was hotter than the pot, because it didn't burn me.

Like a discus thrower at the Olympics, I hurled that pot with all my might into the back yard.

"Well!  It can just stay out there because I'm not going out there to get it!" she quipped in the same snotty voice.

"GOOD!" I yelled back, "IT CAN STAY OUT THERE 'TILL HELL FREEZES OVER!!!!!"

I stomped back up the steps to the screen porch as she wandered back into the house.

"Well!  Now I don't have enough oatmeal to make another batch!" she fumed.

"GOOD!" I yelled at her again, stomping down the hall and slamming my door as hard as I could.

I still didn't sleep well that night, but I sure got a lot out of my system!  That pot sat forlornly in the green grass for a couple of days before we called a truce.  

While writing this, I got curious and measured the distance I hurled that silly pot.  Approximately 35 feet.  Not bad!  

The Spider Chronicles 2012

Every spring, when Minnesota weather is still trying to decide between winter and spring, the creepy crawlies scurry into the house during the cold and wet spells.  My main nemesis: the yellow sac spider.  Since it would be really boring for me to say, "I killed a spider," this spring I have been writing crazy little blurbs when I kill one.  Highly embellished, but sprinkled with truth, the following is my collection know as "the spider chronicles."  Enjoy.

March 30, 2012
As I reached to turn on the water in the shower this morning, I was suddenly confronted with a tap-dancing yellow sac spider singing "Hello my baby, hello my honey, hello my rag-time gal." So I killed it. It's too early in the day for singing spiders.

April 25, 2012
My past caught up to me last night when a yellow sac spider confronted me asking where his singing and dancing soul brother was. I asked him what he did. He said he was part of a Mariachi band. So I killed him. It was too late at night for a spider with maracas.

April 30, 2012
As I was on my way out the door this morning, I was surprised to see a baby yellow sac spider wielding a pin-sized sword. So I asked him, "What is your schtick, peewee?" The baby stood it's ground and said "My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die." So I killed him. I didn't have time for melodramatic spiders.

May 5, 2012

As I shut off the light in the kitchen last night, I saw movement on the ceiling and heard the jingle of tiny carabiners. I quickly turned the light back on and saw a yellow sac spider, with the tiniest green beret ever, frozen in mid-air and staring back at me with a sheepish grin. "Oorah?" he squeaked in his high-pitched voice. "What on earth is going on here?" I countered. "That's classified, Ma'am" he said, trying to look menacing. So I cut his line and killed him. The only one doing a black ops mission in the kitchen after midnight is going to be me.

May 30, 2012
Waiting for a stop light on the way home from work Tuesday, suddenly a big gangly spider was boogeying across my windshield! I frantically reached for the button to put the window up, but not before I heard the theme from Shaft drifting in from the itsy bitsy boom box he was carrying. Next I scrambled for the windshield wiper to wipe him out of existence, but he just busted a few Deney Terrio moves, thumbed his nose at me, and boogied out of view. Canyadigit?

Microsoft logic: an oxymoron

I try to avoid Microsoft products whenever possible, but it is usually inescapable at my place of employment.  This morning I had the privilege of witnessing the logic of Microsoft "security" in action.  


I started my work day like I always do, by logging on to the Microsoft network and opening Outlook to read any new mail.  After that, it was time to start the real business of the day.  Everything was running smoothly until about an hour into my routine.  Suddenly, a dialog box popped up announcing that I needed to log into Outlook.  Hmmm...I was already logged into Outlook and it was working just fine.  I tried re-entering my password, but the box didn't go away.  That was annoying.  I finally clicked the close button to get rid of it.  I hoped that was the end of it.


A short time later I found the need to look up something on the internet.  I opened Explorer and tried to authenticate through the firewall.  It told me my user name or password was incorrect.  No they weren't.  So I entered them again.  And got the same error.  Ugh!  First mail and now the internet.  I tried a couple more times but got the same error.  Was there something someone wasn't telling me?  Did I need to ask my boss if I still had a job?  No no no.  This was ridiculous.  So I submitted a support ticket to our IT guru.  


The guru replied a couple minutes later.  My password had expired at 9:05 am and I needed to log in again.  Are you kidding me?  I could understand if the password expired and a new one was demanded at the next log in.  Oh no, it just quit working.... without any explanation.... and locked me out of my account.  Thank you, Microsoft.  That made me feel so much safer.  I no longer needed to worry about me stealing information from myself, because Microsoft had my back.


I'm not extremely familiar with Microsoft, but I seem to recall in the recesses of my mind that they had a annoying dancing paper clip at one time.  I haven't seen it in the version we use at work, but my guess is that he is hiding in the code somewhere, waiting to mess with people when they least expect it.