Mother's Halo

So, last night my mother gained a halo.. at least as far as I'm concerned. Apparently she has noticed just how much I am missing Michael and all things German.. even though she is not thrilled with the thought of my moving. (She is happy that I am in love. She is happy that I am happy. She is not so happy to let her daughter move to a foreign country - i.e. out of her protective reach)

Mother is a born and bred Southern woman. Mostly she remains silent on issues that bother her, preferring to make her point in a sly and indirect manner. If any of you have a Southern mother or grandmother, you'll know what I mean. But regardless, my mother is the definition of "Steel Magnolia", and I love her anyway, even if we don't always agree. I know that in the important things in life, she has my back.

She does, however, hold a Ph.d. in guilting me into doing the things she wants me to do. Most mothers, I'm sure, are well versed in the art of the guilt trip, especially Southern mothers.. and us Southern daughters are resigned to being the object of these trips because most Southern sons are a) too insensitive to recognize the attempted guilt trip; b) are able to pacify said adoring mother because they are an only (and/or favorite) son; or c) they just don't give a rat's ass (don't ask me to explain this Southernism). That being said, Southern mothers also have the tendency to rarely show mercy to daughters.

Case in point. Yesterday, despite my groaning protests that I did not want to go with her, Mom guilted me into going to some woman's cosmetic party. I know. Don't go there. I despise parties like this.. all of them. From candles to housewares to interior decorating.. all of them. And let me say all the ones I've attended, I've attended under duress from, you guessed it... Mom. I can't imagine why she even likes to go to them.. but that is not another blog entry.

Her argument. "You need to spend time with me.. I am your mother. What will I do when you are in Germany, and I cannot see you every day (week, month)" ETC. Ok, so I went. Damnit. Guilty as charged.

But after the dreaded party, and escaping without purchasing a single item (I'm pleased to say), I suppose Mommy Dearest decided that I needed something to soothe my frayed nerves. Because let me tell you, sitting in a group of gaggling women and playing with eyeshadow and blush and lip gloss, is not my cup of tea. Really. If I am invited to any of these shindigs in Germany, I will not hesitate to point blank refuse (politely of course). And there will be no one to guilt me into it.

So after three hours on the rack, Mom took me to Julia's. Ahhh, heaven. Or as close to heaven as possible in South Carolina.

Julia is this short little German lady from Bad Homburg. She owns her own restaurant and of course, it is all German cuisine. Schnitzel. Warsteiner. Spaetzle. Rouladen. Ok ok, it was my own small slice of bliss for two hours.. the waiter even knew what I meant when I told him I like to drink radler.. and he promptly brought me a glass with Sprite and set it next to my cold brown bottle of Warsteiner.

The schnitzel was delicious, although they use American made sauerkraut, which is not the same as the real kraut to be had in Deutschland.. but over all, I have to say that the food was very good.

And we had a nice conversation, Mom and me, about Michael and about Germany. By the time we left, of course, I had eaten too much and the bier.. well, its been several months since I've had any bier at all.. I just can't drink domestic anymore... American piss as Michael loves to point out.. and I whole-heartedly agree with his sentiments.

So, full of schnitzel and Warsteiner.. I promptly fell asleep on the way home, only waking when we pulled up in the parking lot of.. Wal-Mart. Ugh! I almost snatched back that halo I'd given her. But what the hell, she loves late-night shopping at the Super Center.. and we were only there for half an hour..