The Acid Test

Just when I think the level of discourse in our family can’t sink any lower, Doris shows up with a shovel.

I was up at the nieces for dinner a few nights ago. My brother and his wife were in town and I was asked for family dinner. They had brought their new puppy and the Niece was cooking so how could I say no, and so off to Cape Anne I went after work.

My brother met me at the train and during the drive he caught me up on some of Doris hijinx. Once in the house everyone was too busy playing with the new puppy who is at the all ears and feet stage to talk about much of anything else.

Once dinner was on the table conversation became more general and this was when my sister-in-law brought up the topic of “I can’t believe your mother said…”

It would seem that the Niece’s younger sister decided it was time her new beau should meet Grandma. Always a scary proposition at the best of times. From what I can gather the poor fellow is a very polite well, well brought up, southern boy. Whatever the case, the poor man didn’t deserve it.

From what I could gather, Doris decided that the dinner table was the perfect venue for her to launch into a recitation of her most recent visit to the gynecologist. Doris it seems, has not been doing her Kegel exercises and therefore her lady parts are starting to fall out of her “hoo-hoo”. Knowing Doris, I am pretty certain this was all explained in graphic detail. Not, I think, a mental picture you want through the remainder of dinner. What the hapless beau’s reaction to this was, I have never been told, but my sister-in-law said something to the effect that she couldn’t believe my mother brought the subject up, much less at the dinner table. My response to my sister-in-law was “How long have you been married to my brother, now?” Actually, knowing my family, I was more surprised no one asked Doris whether the doctor suggested surgery or just gave her a cork.

Later the Niece was driving me to the train station and mentioned her new beau will be coming to visit from the Netherlands in December. She asked me if I wanted to meet him and we thought about some different activities that he might enjoy on a visit to Boston. She then asked me if I thought she should introduce him to Grandma.

“Only if I get to watch!” was my response.

The Niece being a sport said “Cool! Road trip!” Unable to help myself, I suggested we just throw him to the sharks and play cards with my dad while Doris talks, non-stop at him. It may seem mean, but anyone who can survive Doris is a keeper.

We’re looking at it as the acid test.