There really isn’t much to tell about what happened on this particular evening about 22 years ago. My husband , me and the the kids had gone to visit his parents. We only lived about 1 1/2 hrs from them but we always stayed overnight. The kids loved them and had a really close relationship with them. They were the best in-laws a girl could have. I loved them as if they were my own parents. Even after my husband and I got divorced I talked to them all the time (by phone- because I couldn’t drive over the bridge to visit them.) I’m still close to all his family. Nana died a few years ago but Grampa is in a nursing home still going strong at 96.
Anyway, we were having dinner with them one evening. The one thing about Nana, she wasn’t a good cook. I think we were eating one of her specialties–Spam,
mashed potatoes and corn. You always knew what supper was going to be because she had one meal for everyday of the week. You knew Wednesday was Franco American spaghetti day.
Monday night was shake and bake pork chops, Saturday for lunch was always cheeseburgers. There was always a roast beef on Sunday. They never ate fish because she didn’t have a clue how to cook it. There was always a night of hot dogs with jello for dessert.
When my husband joined the National Guard when he was 22, I lived with them for four months while he was in basic training. It was the first time the government had a lottery draft. They literally picked dates out of a hat and if they picked your birthday early on, you knew you’d be drafted. The Viet Nam war was going on. Well, they picked my husband’s birthday second. One out 0f 365 chances and he comes in second when in this contest you wanted to come in dead last. So he joined the Guard and I moved in with his parents. That’s when I got initiated into Nana’s cooking. I would cook small meals for myself that they couldn’t imagine anyone eating. Like rice, fish, asparagus, exotic things to them. They had never tasted Pizza. Grampa was known for the fact that he had never tasted alcohol, coffee, or tea. OMG, I almost forgot, Nana’s idea of a salad? –iceburg lettuce with sugar sprinkled on the top. What’s even worse, she cooked better than my mother.
Anyway, back to the forking. There isn’t much to tell. Just another freakish accident aimed at my head. We were eating and I was sitting on my daughter’s left. She for some reason, was waving her fork around, and as I turned to say something she forked me in the eye.
Fortunately the fork didn’t really go in my eye deeply, just sort of scraped it. But it hurt and I couldn’t open it, because it was tearing so much. My husband, as usual panicked, and took me to the emergency room. I had a scratch on my cornea. There wasn’t much they could do but wait for it to heal and give me pain meds. They did have me wear a patch on my eye for a few days which the kids thought was sort of cool. I guess they thought I looked like a pirate.
When it happened, my poor daughter cried. I told her it was just an accident but she cried anyway. She kept saying “I hurt my mommy” over end over. She even slept in bed with me that night. I guess just to make sure I was alright.
I just thought of another story. The day my son didn’t recognize his father and he was facing him and only about four feet from him. And it only happened a couple of years ago so my son would have been about 23 or 24. And he wasn’t even stoned. And my husband was not wearing a disguise. It really is a funny one.