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Old 11-19-2010, 02:41 AM   #11
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My dad's mom cooked because she had to. She could bake up a storm though. Cakes, pies, candies were heaven from her. One year, we were visiting. She had made several pies for us and had lots of food on the table. We all sat down, ate our fill and cleared the table. As she was putting up the leftovers, she noticed the oven was still on. There, in the oven was the roast beef she had made for the main course! Of course it was way over cooked by then. I forget what we did with it but it was really inedible at that point. From then on, we always would remind Grandma to check the oven before we would sit down to eat.
Great story! Thank goodness our somewhat similar experience wasn't as expensive. One year, the morning after Thanksgiving, my mom went to put something in the microwave oven and found the peas that had been intended to go with our Thanksgiving dinner. Since no one had missed them, she stopped fixing peas on Thanksgiving.

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Breakfast in my boyfriends family is a HUGE deal. It's their favorite meal of the day, whereas I could take it or leave it. He has a great big extended family and one of their favorite things to share is a great breakfast. We were all upstate NY visiting the family farm and all went out for an early breakfast. My boyfriends daughter, who was 6 at the time, was adament about being "a grown up" and ordering for herself. The waitress was a great sport and made a big deal about Farah ordering for the first time for herself. The waitress went around the table collecting everyone's order and when the waitress got to Farah, she sat straight up in her seat, proudly holding the menu and exclaimed..."I will have 2 eggs made to order!" lol She has never lived that down and now just rolls her eyes if we ask her if she'd like her eggs M.T.O. lol
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Old 11-19-2010, 02:52 AM   #12
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I remembered a couple others. The first one didn't happen in our family, but it is a story that I first heard my grandpa tell while we were eating dinner many years ago. According to the story a family with a mom and dad and 5 boys (like my dad's family) was eating supper. There were 8 pork chops. Everyone got a pork chop, which meant there was one left on the platter. The boys were all eying the pork chop, but they knew better than to take it. Then suddenly the lights went out. After about 10 seconds the lights came back on. The dad had his fork in the pork chop and there were 5 forks sticking out of his hand.

Nadia's story reminded me of another one. I have told this one a few times here at DC, but it has been awhile. My aunt loved her fried eggs to be very thoroughly cooked, but no restaurant ever served them as well done as she liked. She finally started ordering them this way: "Fry them until they are as hard as a rock, and then fry them again."

Barbara
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Old 11-19-2010, 02:56 AM   #13
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When I buy a whole pig I butcher it on Saturday morning ,my wife goes out shopping as it upsets her.
To set the scene, I strip off and put on an apron so I can just get in the shower and wash the blood and meat splatter off. I was about half way through when the door bell rang, I thought it was a friend coming to help. I was a bit bloody and had a cleaver in my hand when I opened the door, I have never been visited by Jehovah Witnesses since then.
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Old 11-19-2010, 04:06 AM   #14
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When I buy a whole pig I butcher it on Saturday morning ,my wife goes out shopping as it upsets her.
To set the scene, I strip off and put on an apron so I can just get in the shower and wash the blood and meat splatter off. I was about half way through when the door bell rang, I thought it was a friend coming to help. I was a bit bloody and had a cleaver in my hand when I opened the door, I have never been visited by Jehovah Witnesses since then.


So that's how to get rid of them! Very funny, Bolas.
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Old 11-19-2010, 10:04 AM   #15
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Originally Posted by Bolas De Fraile View Post
When I buy a whole pig I butcher it on Saturday morning ,my wife goes out shopping as it upsets her.
To set the scene, I strip off and put on an apron so I can just get in the shower and wash the blood and meat splatter off. I was about half way through when the door bell rang, I thought it was a friend coming to help. I was a bit bloody and had a cleaver in my hand when I opened the door, I have never been visited by Jehovah Witnesses since then.
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Old 11-19-2010, 10:07 AM   #16
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rofl, all great stories!!!!

the only food "joke" in our house was the time we found out my next oldest sister was allergic to shrimp, or the family story of how kids can be cruel.

we had just returned from a day at the beach where my mom and dad had picked up a few pounds of shrimp. as mom prepared it for dinner, my dad and the 6 of us kids washed up and gathered around the dining room table.

a few bites into the meal, my sister diane started to feel funny from the shrimp, with her tongue tingling and swelling. she started to get scared and say "molm, dald , sumpin's wong wit my mouf".

seeing a chance to make fun of her, my next oldest sister claire and i, on each of diane's flanks, started to repeat the same thing, exaggerating her odd sounding words.

molm, mooolm, sumpin's wong wif my mouf! mooolm

our older siblings kept telling us to shut up, but diane kept getting louder so we ratcheted it up as well. finally, my dad put his foot down and told everyone to shut up, just as diane turned a few shades of purple and passed out in her shrimp.

thankfully, my dad was a medic in wwii, so he was able to keep her airway open until he got her to the emergency room.

oops.

claire and i went to bed early that night, kinda hungry.
Oh MY!! Poor Diane!

But still, you were kids and didn't know. So glad everything worked out!
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Old 11-19-2010, 10:08 AM   #17
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I'm loving the stories, Everyone! Thank you!
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Old 11-20-2010, 06:11 AM   #18
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Mine is one that, like some, is funnier if you know the people and the times. We were living in military housing in Germany. Mom was a big one on doing as much "on the economy" as possible (in other words, we didn't, like most military families, pretend we were in our own little American world; as much as we could afford, we went off-base). That is important, because it is how Mom acquired a big ring sausage .... that she had no idea of how to cook. With her limited German, she had ascertained that she was to boil it. Which she did, then presented it to dad to cut into serving size pieces. Daddy stuck his fork in it ... and it exploded. Parts of it literally hit the ceiling, raining down on his head, dripping down from his eyebrows. Us girls (I have three younger sisters, at the time I was 12 or so) sat there with bug eyes and locked jaws, knowing that laughing would NOT be the thing to do. Mom sent us dagger looks, don't laugh. But of course we simply couldn't NOT laugh. Although he laughs at it now, at the time he was NOT amused!

The thing is, in military housing you have to pass inspection when you leave. Mom stood on top of the table and scrubbed the spot where the (fatty) sausage hit, but in never came out. I've often wondered if that apartment ceiling has, to this day, a fatty sausage stain on it!

And I can still picture Daddy, fork and knife in hand, with sausage juices dripping from his eyebrows.

For the life of me, I cannot remember what we actually ate that evening ... did we eat what was left of the exploding sausage? Did we just eat the rest of the meal, sans meat (highly unlikely). Did Mom pick something out of the freezer that she could quickly cook (remember, before microwaves)? I'll have to ask her the next time I call.
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Old 11-20-2010, 01:42 PM   #19
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Mine is one that, like some, is funnier if you know the people and the times. We were living in military housing in Germany. Mom was a big one on doing as much "on the economy" as possible (in other words, we didn't, like most military families, pretend we were in our own little American world; as much as we could afford, we went off-base). That is important, because it is how Mom acquired a big ring sausage .... that she had no idea of how to cook. With her limited German, she had ascertained that she was to boil it. Which she did, then presented it to dad to cut into serving size pieces. Daddy stuck his fork in it ... and it exploded. Parts of it literally hit the ceiling, raining down on his head, dripping down from his eyebrows. Us girls (I have three younger sisters, at the time I was 12 or so) sat there with bug eyes and locked jaws, knowing that laughing would NOT be the thing to do. Mom sent us dagger looks, don't laugh. But of course we simply couldn't NOT laugh. Although he laughs at it now, at the time he was NOT amused!

The thing is, in military housing you have to pass inspection when you leave. Mom stood on top of the table and scrubbed the spot where the (fatty) sausage hit, but in never came out. I've often wondered if that apartment ceiling has, to this day, a fatty sausage stain on it!

And I can still picture Daddy, fork and knife in hand, with sausage juices dripping from his eyebrows.

For the life of me, I cannot remember what we actually ate that evening ... did we eat what was left of the exploding sausage? Did we just eat the rest of the meal, sans meat (highly unlikely). Did Mom pick something out of the freezer that she could quickly cook (remember, before microwaves)? I'll have to ask her the next time I call.
ROFL!!! What a visual! My Dad would have said, "Don't laugh!" just to see how long we could keep from breaking up.
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Old 11-20-2010, 01:51 PM   #20
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Claire reminded me of a story...

Dad was a student at U of Wyoming, Work Study was how he paid the bills. So, we usually went out once a month to the pizza place (Shakey's Pizza) with all you can eat. About every 3 months we would all dress up and head to the "fancy" place, the restaurant at the Holiday Inn.

There were several comments to my parents on how well behaved the children were. We girls were sitting quietly, eating our dinner, in our cute little dresses and our hair done up.

Just as dessert was served, sherbet in little silver bowls on top of a plate with a paper doily, Dad decided his girls just weren't his girls, we were too solemn. He stage whispered across the table, "Don't eat the doilies!"

We cracked up and got several angry stares from other diners. Dad was happy he had made his girls behave like kids, even if only for a few moments.

To this day, I am always happy to hear the voices of children enjoying themselves, even if we are eating a fancy meal.
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