Yesterday the rest of B's family arrived, with a third dog in tow (a little yorkshire terrier). At first this meant some barking between the dogs while they got used to each other. During coffee, the yorkshire wandered into the office where the cat was hanging out. The cat decided that this meant war and attacked the dog (about 2/3 the size of the cat; the cat is costaud).
The family meal was nice, but B's family tends to talk all at once. It used to be difficult to understand all the French, but now it just bothers me that everyone is interupting everyone else and trying to talk the loudest and longest.
Yesterday evening B's extended family was gone and it was just his parents, us, and brother and sister in law. B and his brother got on jokes from La Cité de la Peur, including "Voulez vous du whisky?" "Juste un doigt." "Vous voulez pas le whisky d'abord?" (Do you want some whisky? Just a finger. You don't want the whisky first?)
B's mom didn't understand the joke, and we all turned red refusing to explain it.
This lead to a conversation of when B's parents were almost caught in the act by the grandmother who brought them breakfast in bed when they were visiting. Apparently the grandmother had a habit of knocking and entering at the same time, which didn't leave much time to assume a nonchalent position. B decided it would be funny to mention the time that his Dad knocked and entered at the same time at the old house near Montpellier and we had to scramble to cover up. Luckily B's bed was up on a mezzanine, which saved us, and let me (at least) think that B's dad hadn't realized what was going on. B was sitting across from me at the table, so he probably has some bruises on this shins where I kicked him. Who shares stories like that with their parents? We all know it's much better when eat generation pretends the other generation doesn't engage in any activities like that.
Lunch is almost ready, but preparing it cost my MIL a spoon. My sister in law made a cake this morning (flour free for passover) and apparently she left the cake and a plastic spoon in the oven when it was done and the oven was off. My MIL started pre-heating the oven for the lamb we're eating today without out looking inside and discovered too late a nice melted spoon inside. I don't know yet how the cake fared.
Tonight we're back in Toulouse at home sweet home.
1 comment:
Oh god what an embarrassing conversation to have, I think it's definitely better to have the 'too much information' rule where family are concerned.
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