Olive Oil Spill

My encounter with my grandmother in the kitchen this morning while I'm eating breakfast. I do have to give my grandmother "props". She's learning our lingo (more and more, and more about that in the next post) however the woman gets up every morning and makes me 3 eggs EVERY MORNING before I go off to work. She does this at 5:30am! She's usually up at 5am. She's really spoiling me.

Trying to pour THIS...

into THIS..tiny hole.

Anyway. So as I'm eating the wonderfully delicious eggs, and I'm watching her trying to pour olive oil from a big metal tin into a small glass bottle to refill it. She was getting covered in oil. She wasn't using a funnel or anything, she was just trying to aim. There was no real "spout" on the tin can, so it wasn't really going into the bottle. I finally go her to take the plastic part off of the opening of the glass bottle she was pouring into, and then things flowed a little smoother. She was still COVERED in oil.
This is was the killer for me. As she's standing, elbow-deep in EVOO (thank you Rachael Ray, Extra Virgin Olive Oil) she says:

"I feel like I'm cleaning off animals in the Gulf of Mexico's oil spill!"

YOU DO? You're in your own kitchen sink! The oil is CLEAR...it's covering your HANDS!
Goodness gracious. Love her to death.


Enoxaparin and Erythromycin,
Justine

The Evolving Definition of the Word "Partner"

So... Babcia signed the three of us up for a "Jewelry Making" class at the local library. Quaint little library. The library I used to go to with my grandfather. Adorable really. So we get there after work one day, and the three of us sign in and sit down and the lady who's teaching the jewelry making class goes through her spiel (a word that I always thought was SCHPIEL...learn something new every day..). It was all ladies in the room, and ladies of all ages I might add. For once we weren't the youngest. I'd say ages ranged from 17-80 years old maybe?

There were three ladies next to us. The first thing I noticed was this:

Tattoos: One thing that does NOT get better with age.

 It was two ladies of roughly the same age and then a younger woman and they seemed to have come together. As the lady who was running the workshop was walking around and helping everyone make their bracelets and earrings, she stopped by their table and was talking to them, and of course, I was eavesdropping on the conversation. I'll try to explain the conversation without confusing you...

Lady running the workshop: "Ok, know I see resemblance... who's related??"

Younger Woman: "Yep! She's my mom (points to older woman #1)

Older Woman #1: "She's lucky enough to have two moms!"

Lady running the workshop: "How wonderful! Did you know, I made 700 rainbow necklaces for this year's PRIDE parade in NYC and sold them ALL? (continues conversation...)

So it all was apparent to me. The younger woman was the daughter of the one lady who had a female partner.

Now. My grandmother got in the car, and although she was actually the one sitting the closest to them, she did not eavesdrop like I did. So I decided to bring up the awful looking ankle tattoo first, and then started talking about how the lady running the workshop had made 700 necklaces for pride. Babcia finally started questioning how I knew all this and I told her that the ladies sitting next to her were lesbians and that she was talking to them about it and I was listening...

THEN THE LIGHT GOES ON... 

"THEY SAID PARTNERS...I thought they were BUSINESS PARTNERS!" -Babcia

Oye.

Xifaxin and Xolair,
Justine