B's parents

B's parents just left after staying with us for the weekend. The last time I complained to him about his mother, he didn't want to hear it, so I'll rant here.

To start, his parents are very nice and go to all sorts of lengths to help us. They gave us all kinds of furniture and dishes and sheets and towels and things when we moved into our apartment, which helped us save a lot of money. His mom is practically an encyclopedia of French history and she can explain almost any saying or French word and knows the history of most monuments. B's dad is a handy-man par excellence. He made us a little house for our dryer that we keep outside on the balcony to protect it from the rain. He can put back together just about anything you've broken, and he's willing to pick us up at the train station half an hour from their house at any hour of the day (he also drove me to my interview and read the newspaper in the car while I was inside).

Unfortunately, B's mom can really get on my nerves. She has a habit of commenting on things and criticizing them in the same breath: "I really do like the green mountain forests, but in the winter it's awful." "That glass vase you picked is nice, but there are others that are much prettier." "The food here is great, but that waiter is so slow!" "This place is lovely, but I'd never want to live here."

She is very inflexible as well. She forgot part of her electric toothbrush for this weekend, but insisted on buying what she'd forgotten because "I don't know how to use a regular toothbrush anymore!" She forgot her comb as well, and it was out of the question to use one of ours, because she needed a comb made out of horn. Plastic pulls her hair (I can't imagine that her hair dresser has a horn comb). And when I mentioned she should bring some good shoes to go visit a cave, the only shoes she found were platform wedge sandals. The one pair of shoes she has that resemble tennis shoes slightly don't please her anymore. In the summer, she only wears her wedge sandals (she has about 50 pairs in all colors). She has several boxes of shoes, but is the kind of person that can't remember what she has, so she buys more shoes which are practically identical to what she already has. In the winter, she wears boots. She last lots of stiletto heal, pointy toe boots. Most are black, but some are brown, some have flowers or other decorations, some stop at the ankle, others at the calf, and she has several pairs of red ones.

So, this weekend she managed to navigate the cave in her platform sandals without falling. She did, however, get some grease from the car on her pants, which was why she had to buy a new pair of shorts in Andorra (what else was she going to wear home?).

Ai-yai-yai, the trip to Andorra. It's about an hours drive from where we are, so we ate lunch in a restaurant before leaving. Lots of criticism of the waiter there, of how she couldn't chew the gésiers (chicken liver; it's tastier than it sounds) that were in her salad, and how the least they could have done was to bring some water for the dog.

Then the drive to Andorra: lots of criticism for how her husband was driving, how the others were driving, how the roads were narrow, etc. She was in a small accident a year and a half ago, and ever since, she worries that each time we get in the car we'll get in an accident. When someone passes in a tight spot, or there's an oncoming car in a turn, she gasps, which gets annoying after a while. Even B and his dad started telling her to keep her worries to herself because she was stressing everyone in a parking lot while B's dad made a 3 point turn near the edge of the lot (without a barrier to the creek below).

She bought a new purse in Andorra, and although I bought two, I reserve to right to criticize because she outright admitted that she had loads of purses and couldn't even remember what she owned, but she loved to buy new ones, thus the Andorra purchase. I use my purses until there are holes in the lining and the straps are destroyed, so I don't feel much sympathy for women who can't even remember what they have at home.

For as much as she loves French culture and history, B's mother doesn't give a hoot about America or English. I've cut way back on my stories about my family and how things are different in the States (good thing B doesn't mind them). Whenever I discover something new in France, I like to comment on how it's different in America. B's mom always gets a glazed expression on her face when I talk about America though, and she starts to look elsewhere. I noticed she had the same expression one time when B was talking about something that didn't interest her, so maybe I shouldn't take it so personally, but I hate having to edit out things I'd like to say.

Cooking, grocery shopping, and eating is another area where we don't see eye to eye. My worst peeve is when she prepares something, takes a tiny portion, and then says "Oh, I'm not that hungry. This won't keep at all in the refrigerator, so go ahead and finish it." I can't cound the number of times I forced myself to eat something because of that. And then when she gets up to get the cheese and fruit and I decline because I stuffed myself with whatever she made for the main dish, she says "Oh, yes, you don't like fruit." And B sees the steam coming out of my ears. I like fruit, I love fruit, just not at the end of a large meal when I'm stuffed. I eat it as a snack, at lunchtime with my sandwich, or even cut up on my cereal. B's mom couldn't understand that though because she abhors breakfast.

At her place, lunch is prepared religiously at 12:30. You have to be showered and dressed by this point, even if you were up with friends till 3am. B says his mom never ever said she was tired or didn't feel like cooking either. I grew up with home cooked meals every night (well, at lunch too since I brought a lunch bag: cheaper and healthier), but there were still times when my mom said "Okay, it's left-overs tonight. Re-heat what you want." Or when we'd all been doing different things and one person was starved and someone else barely hungry, and we'd prepare what we felt like eating. B's mom is a machine though: lunch and dinner everyday at the same times. There are times we all we eat is cold cuts, taboulé, cheese and fruit though. She's big on buying ready-made items too, which may explain her precision. She never ever buys regular potatoes fresh out of the ground. She always buys the pre-peeled, pre-cooked, packed in vacuum pack potatoes. She likes the cheese or sausage filled pastries available in the prepared food aisle. This makes for interesting grocery shopping when I'm with her, especially like last Friday when we went shopping together for what B and I were going to cook. In the interest of avoiding have to explain how I prefer fresh ingredients and don't buy pre-prepared very often, I bought those pre-peeled and pre-cooked potatoes. I'd admit they were good and very easy, but peeling a potato never killed anyone.

And my last complaint for today: B's mom insists on buying me or us a present sometimes, even when there isn't anything we like. I know, she has good intentions and I did get an awesome outfit at Cacharel when she said she wanted to get something for me, but in Andorra yesterday, the store was closing and there wasn't anything in my size, but she insisted on me picking out something. I finally chose a sleeveless polo shirt by Lacoste (I've never owned anything Lacoste!), but I'm very methodical and slow when I shop. B makes fun of me because he says I take forever, but I always try to analyze if something will go well with what I already have, and I try to make sure that it will feel good after I've worn it for 2 seconds while trying it on. I verify there aren't any sewing mistakes or stains or defaults in the fabric (thanks mom, you taught me all that). I guess that's why I hate having to pick out something quickly just so B's mom can feel good that she gave me a gift.

I just thought of some more examples of her being close-minded and adverse to change or progress, but I'll keep those for a discussion on how I think French schools should be changed.

And for those of you thinking of going to Andorra: the luggage is cheap, as is the liquor; perfumes are 5-10€ cheaper, occasionally more; purses and leather are cheaper; gas is a steal; and the towns are cluttered with stores selling cigarettes and alcohol and hotels for all the skiers. There's nothing much to look at unfortunately. Since it's not France, water in restaurants isn't free; you have to buy bottled.