Being the perfectionist that Mother is doesn't always constitute a successful outcome. Proven strongly the other night when we decided to eat out post-shopping. Considering our choices have now narrowed down to approximately two eateries within a twenty mile radius, we were heading towards the American diner at the mall when suddenly Mother stops. She's spotted the waiter. The waiter that has been chatting her up for about three months. I'm all for this prospective new relationship (he's from Atlanta, ergo trips to the states) however Mother is definitely not interested and finds his continuous advances somewhat of a pester.
"No, darling. I don't think we can eat here after all... QUICK! He's spotted us! Oh GOD!"
We shuffle away.
We then end up outside an Italian. Beautiful interiors and just up Mother's street; there's even tiny twinkle lights in the ceiling like stars. The waiter is trying quite hard to jazz up this Italian in hopes of persuading us to eat there.
"Hmm. Is there an a la carte menu?"
"No madam, this is a buffet-style restaurant..." *a fancy tailored description of 'how it works' is then offered to us*
"No. I don't like that. That's not what I want.
"... ok..."
"You see; I very much would like to try your restaurant. The problem is, I won't do buffet. It's just not something I do. Can't you do an a la carte menu?"
"I'm sorry madam, we only do buffet"
"Why is everywhere a bloody buffet?! You see, this is the problem. This is precisely the problem in Spain. I should run this place, I guarantee more people would eat here. I really don't understand why they can't just put a regular menu on for people like me, darling!"
Naturally, this is mildly embarrassing for me and I back up a little bit so as not to be obviously associated with Mother. She then spots the German restuarant next door. It is briefly considered before; "Oh no wait a minute I don't like German food do I? It's all meat! Yuck. I'm on a diet. I think. Yes, I'm on a diet, aren't I darling?"
After much fluster (on Mother's part... obviously. I rarely fluster), Mother decides to leave the mall alltogether and head to the trusty Italian near home.
Upon arrival, however, Mother's face drops. My eyes match her line of vision and fall upon a Spanish Elvis. This is a terrible sight for Mother. Having lived here for over a year now, Mother has become almost allergic to the many Costa Blanca Elvis'. Trying to avoid them has become a priority for her... although apparently it proves difficult.
"Oh my God... I can't believe it! I just can't believe it! Perhaps we should go"
Mother then proceeds to enquire; "will this man be here much longer or is he leaving soon? Is he staying?!"
"No madam, he's leaving in a minute..."
*obnoxious sigh of relief*
I then begin opening my menu...
"NO! STOP! Do not open your menu until he leaves!"
It is now that I notice Mother is still wearing all outer layers. Despite the warmth of the restaurant and our neighbouring diners eyeing Mother's red face. Stubborn Mother refuses to contribute to the evening until fake-Elvis is out of sight.
Finally, Elvis leaves and Mother is taking her first sip of wine.
Oh. Apparently this is also disappointing.
"YUCK. *makes baby-tasting-lemon face* Ughhh! Nope. This is not the wine I had last time! I don't like it! Vinegar. Bloody hell! We should have gone home. That way I know my wine is good."
The angry observations continue;
"For goodness sake! They couldn't make any more noise if they tried! Listen to them bashing the china around like that- OH MY GOD she's just scraping the chairs under the table! *grimace* Oh come on really now?! They ought to upgrade their coffee machine - it sounds like a rocket landing! It needs foyer music in here you know. It's far too hot in here, wouldn't you agree? We're not all freezing cold! GOD it's like a sauna!"
Mother then asks me what I'm ordering and I make the mistake of telling her.
"Pizza"
"WHAT KIND OF PIZZA OMG you can't just say pizza!"
*I slowly point...*
"Hmmm that sounds ni- EGG?! No, darling. You won't like that. You can't have that. It's horrible, I'm sure. No. YUCK! Choose something else."
"Umm... actually I do like it... I always have it... but thank you for your input..." I nearly add; "scary Mary" but decide against it.
So, that sums up the evening. I will also inform you all that this is certainly not a rare sequence of events. However, fear not! I have become immune.
Also, I have since managed to train Mother to alter her thought processes. Kind of like dog-training. Cognitive therapy, if you will. Loosely using the title of this post.
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