Musings on the HER-oic Life

The malapropisms of my German mother were a constant source of delight and amusement in my family. There was rarely a time when she was writing out a check that she didn't ask,"How do you spell five; with an F or a V?"

She often referred to notable people as being very extinguished and she never got mad, she got fur-ious. If she was extremely upset, she might even get her gander up.

Mom was always a bit put off when someone would ask, "Where are you from, I can't place your accent?"

"Akzent?", she would bark, giving them her best cold stare, "I don't shpeak vith an Akzent!

"One Sunday breakfast in particular comes to mind. As we sat at the large, round table and shared lively conversation with our friends, the waitress took our orders. When the food arrived, my mother was irate. Sitting in front of her was a plate of eggs, a bowl of chili and one piece of toast. Everyone else at the table with a toast order had two pieces. Why did she receive only one? To make matters worse, she had not requested any chili. Who in their right mind would eat greasy chili early in the morning?

Before Mom whipped herself into a lather, my sister, always the calm, thoughtful one in the family, suggested we review the order process and see if we could ascertain where the waitress went so woefully wrong."

Okay Mom," my sister said in her soothing fashion, "Just tell us exactly what you said to the waitress."

Irritated but willing to play along in the hopes of solving this culinary mystery and calling the errant waitress to task, my mother replied in her heavy German accent. "All I said vas "I'll half an order of toast with chelli." It was several minutes before we could wipe the tears of laughter from our eyes and calm down enough to explain the solution of the wacky breakfast mystery to my mother.

Ah, Mom, the English language has never been the same for me since you've been gone.