Yesterday I had not only Mom and Swifty over, but the In-Laws too! Oh boy! A whole bunch of family, in my house. At the same time. And I had to play Hostess. I am no Monica on friends, I am not even close to Martha Stewart. I was praying for the end the second the alarm went off in the morning. Yes, I had set the alarm for a Sunday morning so I had plenty of time to prepare all the food.
I was setting out a cold buffet for everyone as my dining table is only made to seat four, six at a squeeze but we had eight, so plates on laps it was. The menu consisted of: California sushi rolls (made by me one plate regular, one plate egg free) potato salad; one regular one egg free for the two egg allergy family members, BBQ and Chinese spare ribs, cream cheese filled soft dates, selection of sliced hams and salami, a cheese board, some super walnut bread and rye bread, coronation chicken and smoked salmon. I also made a jug of home-made iced lemon tea and a pot of strong coffee.
Everyone liked the food, but as goes with me, I made way too much. Swifty was at a loss, he'd never seen food prepared this way and seemed scared to try anything new. He has the biggest sweet tooth and junk food diet I've ever seen in a grown man. I know he was the one who spit a date into my sink. I mean fine, if you don't like something, spit it into a napkin and dispose of it nicely in the bin, not spit it out in my sink where you know I'm going to find it when I clean the dishes up.
The Grown-ups all seemed to get along pretty well, and Swifty kept his colorful opinions to himself. Mom says he was being quiet because he gets nervous meeting family. He didn't want to go to Mass and meet Mom's family because he was worried they would all think he was dumb and only with Mom for her money. That type of behavior speaks volumes to me. So he was reserved. Not helped m uch by my Father-in-Law (FIL) who likes to joke.
Swifty: So have you lived in Scotland all of your life?
FIL: Not yet.
And so the conversations went on like that. Swifty wasn't up for a game of wit against FIL, and after all food was gone, and plates cleared, he talked my Mom into taking him to the Super Tesco's grocery store "For souvenirs". Now, I have no clue about grocery stores in the USA today, but I know when I lived there, they weren't well known for being a hub of souvenir shopping. The man has been here for 6 days now, he has been to 4 different grocery stores and spent about 2.5-3 hours in each of them, going up and down every isle. Hubs has said he'll not drive them to a large store again, he hates grocery stores (So does my Mom for that matter!) and hanging around watching Swifty meander around, constantly converting pounds to dollars and trying to decide if it's worth the cost of buying these cookies, or those drinks.
I'm now of the opinion that Mom is with Swifty because there must be a serious lacking of decent men in the 65-70 year old range for her to choose from. I don't know how she could be with a racist, a sexist and someone so not like herself. He doesn't even match her physically. She has loads of stamina and drive, He's in a walker, can't sit for long and is in constant pain from having bad hips (Yes I've had all the dirty sex jokes already, we've all tried to imagine how they must do it, and soon feel awkward, ill and very unsexy so please...don't go there)
he's a ...a...pudding. A big bowl of gush, big belly out boozer. I despair.
Yes he buys her flowers every day. That is sweet. He also calls her every day if they are apart. He wants more of a commitment from her, that she has so far, resisted (Still no comment on the ring). I can see he has a sense of humor, and they obviously have an affectionate relationship that they keep private. They are not public displays of affection types. They travel around to college football games together; I don't think Mom ever watched a football game until Swifty came along.
I guess, I've thought Mom would be with an intellectual type, having been one all her days. She has read almost every book in the library, keeps her mind sharp. I thought she'd find some tenured college professor whom she could travel and have deep thoughts with. Not discuss the quality of British beef over American and the cost therein. But I know, it's not my decision. It's none of my business. I still can't help being disappointed that she's settled for the first man who gave her flowers after my Dad passed away.
I'm going to shut up and smile pretty, But if he makes one more comment about my Mom getting fat I'll kick his walker.