SOUP
"Does this soup taste 'off' to you? Here. ... Doesn't it taste 'off?' What do I mean by 'off?' You know, 'off.' No, I didn't say it tasted bad. Don't get all upset. I know you spent all summer growing the beans, potatoes, corn, tomatoes, carrots, onions, celery and herbs. I know you raised the chickens used to make the stock and supply it with its meaty goodness. I know you made it from a recipe handed down to your mother from your grandmother from your great-grandmother. ... Still. Taste it again. ... What is that? Tarragon? What's tarragon? ... Well, for something that doesn't have the 'tarragon' in it's name, it certainly has a lot of it. I mean, I'd understand if it were called 'tarragon-vegetable-chicken soup,' but whatever. ... Regardless, I don't think that's it. What? What did you say? Oh, ham. ... I was about to say. What did I think you said? Never you mind. Let's just say it's not something a decent person would own, let alone put in soup. ... I'm upsetting you, aren't I? Stop crying. Is this about the drapes? It is, isn't it? Well, I'm sorry that I upset you. But if the drapes are too short for the window, what am I supposed to do, just sit there and say nothing? ... Are we completely out of wine? We sure drank that fast. ... What? You only had half a glass? Are you sure the bottle was full? I can usually only drink a few sips before I start running off at the mouth. ... What was that? ... You're mumbling. I wish you would speak more clearly. I remember the first time John brought you to the house, I asked him how on earth he understood a word you said. I always stressed clear, precise diction with my children. That's why it surprised me when John and you started going out. ... What do I mean by that? Oh, you know. Let's just let it go. You seem to make him happy, which is all that matters, no matter what I think. ... Is that the oven timer going off? Let's check those biscuits. ... Hmm ... Did you use a different recipe? Oh, no reason. They just look kind of 'off' ..."