Baked Spaghetti

After I professed my arrant disgust of all men at the last family gathering, Grandma was convinced I’m a lesbian.

It’s been judgment and condemnation ever since.

Today I bring groceries and offer to cook her favorite: baked spaghetti.

She snatches the pot from my hand as I’m filling it with water, brushes past me to the stove muttering Romans 1.

“Speak up, Grandma.”

She switches her tone. “Maybe you just haven’t found the right man yet.”

As if Grandpa’s “other” daughter doesn’t live three doors down in Aunt Mae’s house.

“No man’s good enough.”

Surprisingly, to this, she agrees.

Let me know I'm not talking to myself.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.