The Aunts

I got two aunts. Not blood relative, father's or mother's sister type aunts, but two old German ladies who were my mom's closest friends since she and my dad moved out here from Queens in '62. This was a very European neighborhood when I was growing up, Krauts, Polacks, and Guineas. They tolerated my dad because he was married to my mom, a good German woman.

Anyway, one of these women is the mother of my best friend Steve and has always been a second mom to me, so I gotta keep in touch. They just live around the corner. So today was one of those days. We were summoned there on Friday becasue her cucumber crop was overly bountiful (it is every year because she plants so damn much) and she had so many extra, we had to take some. Fine.

Here's where the problem arises. They're just like all the other old German ladies in my family. They're not happy until you weigh 500 lbs. So we go over there and of course she had a fruit torte just coming out of the oven. Naturally, I wasn't allowed to do anything unless I had a piece (have I mentioned I'm 42 years old). Oh, yes, something to drink too. No, just a taste wouldn't do, she had to cut the damn thing up and put it on a plate in the middle of the table. I didn't need much coaxing to have a second and third piece as well. I swear it's more addictive than cocaine. These ladies can bake. It's why I gain 20 lbs in 2 weeks when I visit my real aunt in Germany. If you can resist the first piece you might succeed, but when you take the first bite it's all over. If you think it's easy to resist and old German lady pushing warm-from-the-oven cake in front of you, be my guest.

Now Mrs. F has cut the dinner menu in half because we're both so full we couldn't eat everything she had planned. Thankfully, they didn't insist we take any home otherwise dinner would have been the rest of the cake and a dollop of vanilla ice cream. Oy!!!