Friday, January 22, 2010

The Generals' Table

I'm going to get back to the body here pretty soon. These days I spend way too much time at the generals' table, where my elders complain about their ailments, aches and pains, pleasures they've been forced to give up. In the officers' mess of a professional army, the lieutenants' table would be discussing women and sex, the majors food, wine, and cigars, and the generals their gout. Somehow I prematurely joined my parents and their friends at the majors' table when I was about 14, and have stayed there until recently, when they all turned into generals.
My mom can't eat peppers, cucumbers, or cantaloupe; they cause an untoward volume of gas. My aunt will not eat tomatoes; I don't know why. My mother-in-law would rather die than eat green vegetables: literally! If I should perchance fail to remember one of these arcane prohibitions, they are horrified. How could I forget such important details about them? Don't I love them any more? None of them should eat white bread or sweets, but that is what they want, and bake, and bring to my house to get it out of their own cupboard where it will tempt them. No, thank you, don't bring that here! I don't want it either!
I want to go back to the lieutenants' table. Anyone know where it is?

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