my boss wasn't there for halloween one year. there was a costume contest, because i was at a large company where we had things like costume contests and hawaiian days. it was a very exciting time in my life that i like to mull over on late nights such as this one.

boss: so, did donna dress up for halloween?

cow-orker: yes she did! she came as a witch!

boss: err... how did you know?

cow-orker: hmm. well, she was wearing a HAT!

boss: that's true, donna doesn't normally wear hats...

Misunderstood
or
Why my mother will never enjoy a tuna fish sandwich in my home.

mom decides that she wants a tuna sandwich. she puts her head into the fridge for a few minutes, pokes her head back out and asks if my husband and i have onions.

"no, mom, i do not. and after living with me for nearly 20 years, you should know that the most constant thing about me, one of the few things i have never wavered on is that i do NOT like ONIONS," i say.

maybe that sounds a little bitter, but you have to picture a most of a lifetime spent segregating onion from sauces, pizzas, salads and damn near everything that has an onion in it. little plates taken up nearly nightly with a small, neat stack of onions. the protests of "why do we have to get onions on the pizza? i hate onions." 20 years of ordering things with "no onions." you'd think she would've gotten the hint.

mom responds "not even for flavor?"

"well, the onions didn't steal my boyfriend or say something to hurt my feelings. it's pretty much the flavor of an onion that offends me."

now, we're people of the world here, i know that parents are busy with their own lives and can't know everything about their progeny, but i felt like i'd covered the onion thing quite thoroughly. it's not like the mustard epiphany of '79 where in a woolworths after being served a hot dog with mustard i tasted it, asked her what it was, and then announced loudly that i did not care for mustard. i simply do not remember a time when onions were considered acceptable on my plate.

i'm also an only child. there weren't a bunch of other kids running around the house proclaiming their likes and dislikes. and really, compared to many other children i've observed, i wasn't a super-picky eater. i liked what i like and while today i cannot fathom the attraction of bologna and cheese, i'm here to tell you today that if you'd served that with onions i wasn't going to eat it.

i don't like onions. i never liked onions. and if the preceding 28 years are any indication, i'm just never going to like onions. and i don't tend to buy things to keep in my fridge that i don't like. that's just me. i'm crazy with the only buying food i'm likely to eat.

mom ducks her head in again.

"hey," mom says, "there's no mayo in here!"

"well... i don't like mayo..." i reply.

"you don't even have it in here just to have?" she asks.

"no. see, if *i'm* not going to eat it, and *ryan* is not going to eat it, it pretty much seemed like a good idea not to buy it only to watch it spoil," i answer.

"but what about for guests?"

see, and this is a point with some items. like sugar. people are likely to have tea or coffee in my home. i, being hypoglycemic, cannot have sugar. however others can and often do. but it has yet to come up that a guest was disappointed with my lack of mayo, or onions for that matter. i suppose from now on i'll have to put on party invites "byom or byoo"

if the basis for communication with society is your ability to communicate with your family, i am so screwed.

"honey, there's no celery in here..."

"it gives me the trots."

"oh, well, then i guess you don't want that..."

...

if the basis for human communication is established by your ability to relate to your family, i am so screwed.