ANNALS OF THE IN-LAWS

By Liz Wohl

DAY 1

On the drive home, everything seemed quite normal; the regular cows were grazing in their proper pastures (some watching the passing cars), while I was enjoying the minor tones of a now- defunct 80's band blaring from the stereo inside my Micro Rice Burner. As I turned into our war-zone subdivision I suddenly remembered They would be descending onto our quiet little house in the not-too-distant future. Comforted by the fact that I had at least another hour in which to prepare for Their arrival, I cranked the tunes higher and continued through the destruction/construction onto the street perpendicular to ours.

As I made the final turn in my pleasant trip home from an average workday, I saw it. To my horror, adjacent to our sleek, modern house was the 1983 drab blue dormant Oldsmobile. Mouth agape, pupils dilated in terror, I searched for the car's inhabitants. Seconds later, I spotted The Retired One leaning against The Blue Beast. Dreading what followed, I scanned the 30 square feet surrounding the house where I found The Mother-In-Law sprawled on our front lawn. For a brief instant I recalled the news story I saw about Sperm Whales washing ashore on the East Coast, never regaining the strength to return to their ocean abode.

I knew this was the beginning of something exhausting.

PART TWO - The Invasion

Only minutes inside the house with our visitors, I breathed a heavy sigh of relief when I heard the Sensible Rice Burner pulling into the garage. After asking the standard "how was the trip" question, to which the standard "boring" reply was given, I knew I would collapse with any further conversation had Their Primary Distraction not arrived so quickly.

After the usual house tour and the predictable "oh, its just lovely" and "excellent, excellent; it's just magnificent/fabulous/wonderful" comments from The Talkative One, I served liquid refreshments and pungent peanut-garlic salsa with chips. I had hoped they would not be hungry (or would be repulsed by the salsa) and would refuse the snacks, thus implying they had eaten dinner on the road. Much to my dismay, when asked if they had already stopped for dinner, they turned to one another and questioned; "when did we have those doughnuts?"

I knew then that I was in, and in deep.

Needless to say, I masterfully created a Prego-licious dinner for four complete with fresh broccoli, salad, garlic bread, and even overpriced Peppridge Farm cookies for dessert. Naturally, I sat adjacent to the person who constantly eats and talks and cannot cease one action when performing the other. Gives a whole new meaning to "seafood."

Exhausted from work and the whole arrival trauma, I still managed to maintain my cool while The Lazy Ones sat (I believe they've been studying for mail-order PHDs in this department) while Eric & I cleared and cleaned. I will admit, after the table was cleared, the kitchen was cleaned, and their things unpacked, The Broad One inquired, "what can I do to help?" One can only conclude that they really pull their weight.

Not to discount the terrors already told, but I have forgotten a very important detail in this sequence of events: the housewarming gifts. Nothing is quite as frightening as self-proclaimed millionaires (who refuse to purchase new, reliable cars or replace the 30-year-old shag carpet in their house) bearing gifts. As always, they descended onto the house with many things wrapped in used wrapping paper and stuffed into paper shopping bags. The usual gift of the discounted classical CD's (to which we never listen) was lurking in one of the bags. At least these are anticipated, and quite safe when compared to the other treats that usually follow.

Surprisingly, the gifts intended "for me" were quite amusing; ceramic Holstein Cow cream and sugar containers that accessorize nicely with the existing Holstein "Fred and Ethel" salt and pepper. As expected, however, we were not as fortunate with the forthcoming gifts "for the house."

The first is most definitely a chachki: it is a useless small round piece of glass with a blue oblong marble inside of it. The blue (surprise!) is a perfect match of the drab Oldsmobile littering our street. We weren't sure exactly of the motivation behind this one.

The second is very hard to describe, but I'll give it the old college try...hmm, what is the image I'm trying to convey...let's see...I'll try...HEINOUS MONSTROSITY. Yes, that seems to summarize it fairly well. This lovely piece picked specifically for us is a combination pseudo- Southwestern/Indian ceramic wind-chime/mobile/door decoration probably found at the finest tourist shops in the Texarkana area. We have not found a home for it yet (rest assured we were given many suggestions), but I am considering leaving it in the hall closet. It really gives that dark, small, hidden space some verve.

I think the week's off to a delicious start.

By the grace of God, they didn't awaken until after I left the house, so breakfast conversation was thankfully avoided. This day certainly looked promising. Little did I know what was to follow that very evening.

Upon my arrival home from another average workday, we decided to eat someplace semi-casual for their Anniversary Dinner. I was especially thrilled to be celebrating their anniversary with them in the first place, seeing that I really couldn't care less about a man who constantly hums to avoid any direct conversation with his wife. Nonetheless, as we retired to our respective rooms to prepare for this exciting meal, I was confronted with a most horrific sight. Eric was packing his overnight bag for a last-minute 6 a.m. meeting in Ardmore, Oklahoma. My pupils slowly dilated in terror (again) as I realized this turn of events meant I would have to spend the evening home alone with my in-laws. No buffers, no distractions, (except for the cat), just me as their only source at which to talk. But I digress from the sequence of events; we must return to the delightful events of dinner.

At least Eric left after dinner, which made eating somewhat more tolerable with Them. Since he had to depart directly from the restaurant, I was forced to travel in The Blue Beast to ensure they found the restaurant to which we were driving. Fortunately, the drive was short, and The Loud One was in the front seat so her talking was thus less amplified. Upon our arrival at the restaurant, we all took our chairs and sat down to a "lovely" dinner. Making the mistake of sitting across from Jabba The Hut, I was privy to viewing Vietnamese food in a whole new consistency. I found it to be quite an effective form of aversive conditioning. We of course shared various dishes in the traditional Asian style, which translates into "every Wohl for himself." I didn't realize how large a degree of wing span is possessed by overweight prehistoric dino-birds.

Naturally, another push for us to spend a week in Paris with them when they rent their "flat" next spring was discussed over dinner. Of course, they insist we would be on our own during the day and simply have a (free) place to stay at night. What they don't realize is the expenses we would technically save in hotel fees would be spent on Valium for the duration of the trip and towards a week in a flotation tank/isolation chamber after our return home.

After we paid for their Anniversary Dinner, I bid a reluctant goodbye to my husband while The Human Dirigible hovered nearby. I was then left to complete the journey home, alone, with my in-laws.

I think I actually awakened an entire five minutes after my radio alarm sounded. Once I realized it was morning, it was hard to believe I had actually slept eight hours; it seemed more like three. Exhausted from the past two days of In-Law Hell, I dragged myself out of bed to face yet another day of work and my husband's adopted parents (I have a really hard time believing he was raised by these two). But it was then that I realized Eric was going to play tennis that evening, and I was going to play softball, so the Traveling Wohlburies (reference to a 1980's band comprised of Roy Orbison, Tom Petty, etc.) were headed to Tulsa for the day and the evening! My heart leapt with joy as I envisioned myself skipping softball and having the whole house to myself for at least a couple of hours.

This was a "glorious" day (Mother-In-Law-ese), as I did not see extra-large hide nor hair of them the entire day. As I had only dreamt earlier, I had the good fortune of them sleeping until I left for work, and not returning until 10:30 p.m. when I was just getting into bed. Eric took charge of talking with them when they arrived home (after the standard cat greetings of "hello, pussy!") so I could relish a 24-hour period of negative in-law contact. It was at this time they informed

Eric they could not figure out how to operate their shower. This is of course after I had given them detailed instructions the first night of their visit, and I had trusted that a former Monsanto Chemical Engineer could have taken it from that point. I unfortunately learned that, rather than not shower, they had been in our bathroom and had been using our facilities. I become quite queasy when I envision this scene, so I will now desist in writing anymore about this subject.

This had to be the best day of the visit, and I knew it was all downhill from here.

As I stumbled out of bed, feeling eternally grateful that it was Friday, I suddenly remembered that They were still here. Usually quite jovial on Friday mornings, I became most disenchanted once I realized that Friday was the beginning of the weekend that would become the 48-hour In- Law Marathon.

I was fortunate enough to only encounter The Haus Frau briefly on my way out the door Friday morning. My quick "oh, I'm just on my way to work" comment prevented any possible conversation from transpiring in the kitchen.

As I drove into work that morning, I knew my life would be eternally noisy in the many hours yet to come.

Upon my arrival home that evening, I found everyone lounging about the living room and snacking on various pantry items. We were all going to The Aerospace America show near Will Rogers World Airport that evening, so I changed into my play clothes (they were already clad in their everyday tent-sized shirts and elasticized pants) and followed the pack into the garage.

Armed with a ration from their 20 pound bag of Jolly Ranchers purchased at the local St. Louis Sam's Warehouse Food Store, The Vacationers lumbered into The Sensible Rice Burner. They weren't taking any chances, and were prepared for famine, drought, or cotton-mouth to strike at any given moment.

Naturally, the Wohls wanted to inspect every plane parked on the runways for view and read any possible signs they could. I, however, was hungry and was anxious to get to the Pepsi-Cola Chalet where much food and beer was supposedly present. On this point I really must digress from the story at hand and comment on the idiotic perceptions of the "professionals" within the OKC advertising community. At first I was quite disinterested with this airshow business. I had told a station rep that Eric acquired some passes to the "Chalet Area" from Pepsi.

To this comment, the station rep (who seems quite normal and dresses very sharply) informed me this chalet thing was a great party. Talk of catered dinner, beer, chalet-hopping, and superb airshow viewing transpired. Intrigued by this, I then informed Eric of this bounty, and agreed that we should check out this event. As we approached the Chalets (after a very long hike with The Waddling One bringing up the rear by about 20 feet) I saw some straw shacks with coolers and chairs but no food to be found. As I detail the gruesome events below, you will see how puzzled I was until I realized that this station rep is just as much a hick as any Oklahoman I have encountered.

We finally figured out that there was a main tent with food, but when we approached it we also discovered the food was $6 a pop for some burgers, dogs, BBQ chicken, potato salad, and really awful cookies & brownies. I'll let you guess who piled what item the highest on her plate. Naturally, Eric paid while his dad took out a $20, saw that Eric was paying, and quickly retracted his bill. I now know why they're millionaires. The entire time we were inside the food tent, the airshow producers thought it would be amusing to simulate bomb droppings as the planes flew overhead. After a full workweek plus the half-week of In-Law Hell, I was not keen on these ear- shattering explosions. This evening was certainly off to a pleasant beginning.

We returned to the Pepsi Chalet with our food where I found a table to share with others who were watching the airshow in progress. I gathered some chairs and beckoned The Large Ones to join us (I must have had a momentary lapse of reason when I did this, since this meant viewing more types of unknown food in the slurry consistency), after which effort Eric was thanked by his mother. During the loop-de-loops The Vocal One uttered many "WOW's!!" and other various sounds (with food as a baffler of course) for the first 20 minutes or so. I simply pretended she was some random lunatic who happened to be seated at our table. I must admit, though, there was someone louder sitting to my left telling bass and catfish stories to his enrapt listeners. Eric informed me this was the "Country Boy IGA" owner, so at least he had an excuse.

Anyway, aside from all the noise from various sources, the show turned out to be quite entertaining. The coolest and most unexpected part of the show were the gargantuan fireworks directly above us at the show's finale followed by this wicked Wall-O-Fire across the airfield. I thoroughly enjoyed this pyrotechnical display, to which I exclaimed "Fire!!! heh heh heh; Fire!!!" as a tribute to the eloquent Beavis of Beavis and Butt-head fame.

At least the day wasn't a total loss.

The First Rule of Wohldom states; "When in a museum or other place of historical significance, read all information available, remain on your feet the duration of the visit, and do not leave the building until the above criteria have been met." I had unfortunately forgotten this rule when I suggested "The Kirkpatrick Center - 5 Museums in One" would be a great place to spend Saturday in OKC.

Saturday morning was relaxing enough; I rolled out of bed around ten and proceeded to warm (toast on request) some bagels, set the table with various goodies such as green olives (for Them), lox, cream cheese, Rugala (Albertson's style), sliced mango, strawberries, and nectarines. The Helpless One finally figured out how to open the mini-bags of gourmet decaf once I supervised in the kitchen, and made tea for The Spoiled One. After feasting on the breakfast treats, we prepared ourselves for the exhilarating day ahead.

Pockets filled with Jolly Ranchers, my in-laws were ready for another danger-filled day.

The afternoon began with an in-car tour of the East Edmond gargantuan homes, followed by a second in-car tour of the well-established neighborhoods of Nichols Hills. Between lulls in the cacophony of humming (different tunes, of course) from all three Wohls were the incessant comments and fragments of conversation coming from my back-seat companion. Never in my dreams did I think I would actually feel relieved when the multiple hums commenced.

Upon our arrival at the Museumplex, I dragged my stiff muscles out of the car and wondered how I could have tolerated a car Full-O-Wohls for that long of a time. I figure my body must slowly be developing anti-oxidants to combat the aging process caused by overexposure to In- Laws.

When we approached the window to purchase tickets for the day, The Cheap One slightly protested, "let Dad pay." Since he arrived many moments after this comment, this offer was of course null and void. After we paid for the four admissions, they assured us dinner that evening was going to be their treat. Looking back on that day, I realize we really should have taken them to the cleaners.

The museum tour began innocently enough; we began in the "Hands On" Science Exhibit where it was easy to become separated. Unfortunately, we were eventually reunited, but overall these first two hours of the museum were quite tolerable, perhaps even pleasant.

Once we ventured into the Aerospace section, however, things began to turn ugly.

Multitudes of signs bearing historic significance were present in this portion of the Museumplex. With most average, run-of-the-mill in-laws, this exhibit would have taken about an hour to complete. When we reached the two-hour point at about 4:30 pm, I decided this airplane/space stuff had grown quite tiresome. Besides, we hadn't eaten since about eleven, and I was getting cranky. At this point I decided to take control of my destiny and attempt to make some plans.

Feeling my oats, I inquired if anyone was at all hungry (while desperately trying to convey my weariness) and proposed we either go to dinner or have a snack and stay until the museum closed. All heartily agreed we should have a snack and continue through the museum until it closed. En route to the snack bar, much dawdling ensued, and I announced that I would meet them in the Snack Cafe.

30 minutes had passed since I had my snack, and the Clan of the Sign-Readers was nowhere to be found.

I retraced my steps and searched the immediate area, but they had disappeared. If Eric weren't with them I might have enjoyed categorizing them as "missing". I finally spotted them emerging from some naval exhibit and heading for the exit doors. They announced they were "ready to leave." At this point I wondered if I was somehow transported into a parallel universe, since not 35 minutes before this announcement, all had agreed to have a snack and then leave once the museum closed. I decided to torture them for a change, and informed them we were not leaving as there were other exhibits we had not yet viewed. That'll teach them to mess with my eating habits.

After dragging them through much cooler exhibits such as African and Asian artifacts and artwork (I suspect they sated any hunger they may have had by dipping into their Jolly Rancher supply) we then departed the Museumplex for Flip's Winebar and Trattoria.

I thought Italian food would be safe cuisine, as it is typically not shared, and the oozing mozzarella usually makes it quite difficult to utter words. Unfortunately, I was sadly mistaken.

We decided on two appetizers that were served Asian style (you'll recall from the Vietnamese incident how Asian style translates in the Wohl family). As this spectacle was quite disgusting, my appetite has now been ruined for anything resembling antipasto. I had forgotten that Flip's serves a full 3 course meal, so the dinner was not only prolonged, it also provided the opportunity for various viewings of many different foods. I have unfortunately learned that, unlike most cramped dinner theaters in OKC, with this dinner production there is no such thing as a seat with an obstructed view.

After guzzling two bottles of wine (the majority of which they drank), and feasting on the tasty treats at Flip's, The One With the Perpetual "On" Switch was ready for more. It was around 9 pm when we finally finished dinner, and she inquired "now where shall we go?" Fortunately for us, OKC really has no nightlife, so we were essentially off the hook. As

Eric & I were both exhausted from working at the office, at home, and in the Museumplex, we were ready to go home and crash. Since we were driving, we took control and headed home. Little did we know that our typically quiet, peaceful house would turn into an amphitheater that Saturday night.

We escaped onto the hammock until the very last seconds of daylight evaporated. We then retired to our bedroom in hopes of gaining a taste of a relaxing Saturday. As the Loud Ones were still in our living room screaming about the details of their sojourn to Italy, these hopes we had were immediately dashed. We tried drowning them out with the television, but to no avail. Even the cat frantically pawed at our bedroom door so she, too, could avoid the ear-piercing "discussion". Although we were ready to drop into power nap mode the minute we arrived home, we were kept awake against our will until they finally decided to retire to the other side of the house at 11:30 pm. I'm still amazed at the sheer volume she can achieve when the person at which she is screaming is sitting no more than a foot away. It must have taken years of intense training to achieve such a skill.

It looked as if Sunday was not going to be the Oklahoma-style "biblical" day of rest.

Dragging myself out of bed at around 11 am (Monday was definitely going to be brutal), I suddenly remembered this was the last full day of In-Law Hell. With a new-found hope I traipsed into the kitchen and began the last breakfast preparation of the week.

After stopping at the store the previous night to re-stock the diminished breakfast supply, I again set the table with a varied assortment of treats. After Hurricane Wohl finished, not a scrap of the bounty was left. God forbid we should ever be stranded on a desert island with them and have to ration food.

I then began my weekend cleaning ritual while the Couch Knishes watched some dull golf tournament. I must interject at this point to ponder the attraction to televised golf. Do people actually find this exciting? It seems almost as exhilarating as clocking the speed of a turning doorknob.

I really have to credit Eric with saving this day, though, since he actually got The Vacationers out of the house (and my hair) to give them a tour of downtown OKC, his office, and tennis club (they really get off on that stuff). During these 2 1/2 hours, I had my first recollection of the house P.I.L (Pre-In-Law) and ecstatically anticipated our home A.V. (Anno Vacationers). I think the cat realized this too, as she began chasing her toys and prancing sideways for the first time in a week. Caught up in the fervor, I, too, considered celebrating by stripping down to my skivvies and running naked through the house. In hindsight, that may have painted an interesting picture for my in-laws upon their arrival, and may have prompted them to leave Oklahoma that very evening. I must consider acting on impulse more frequently.

Once they returned, we fired up the grill and began preparing the final family meal. Eric made salad and garlic bread while I skewered the kebabs (unfortunately, we only had two skewers), grilled, served, skewered, grilled, served, and finally sat down to eat. Quite exhausted, I suddenly realized the beauty in this arrangement; I didn't have to observe the dinner in the conversation! Needless to say, I really didn't mind eating last.

I was quite shocked after dinner when The Sloth actually got off of her (large) behind, cleared some plates, rinsed them off, put them in the dishwasher, and began drying the non-dishwasher items! Why she was doing this was utterly confusing, but I did not question these actions. After I thanked her for helping she gave me the It-Was-No-Problem-the-Least-I-Could-Do Hand Gesture/Look. I guess she figured she would leave a lasting impression of helpfulness so we would remember to actually invite them the next time.

But tomorrow was Monday, the Day of Their Departure, and I had never been so excited for the beginning of a workweek.

I faintly heard Eric's alarm, then drifted off to sleep until mine was to sound at a more humane hour of the morning. Unfortunately, as Eric quietly left the bedroom and began shuffling in the kitchen, I was awakened to the shrieks of something like "OH, SO BRIGHT-EYED AND BUSHY-TAILED BEFORE SEVEN IN THE MORNING!!" Oh, God, they were still here.

Delaying the inevitable as long as possible, I finally rolled out of bed and headed for the bathroom uttering a low, guttural growl. Hearing the screams of a mother-in-law as the first sounds of the day would put anyone in a foul mood. Eric strolled into the bathroom just before I entered the shower to inform me that "breakfast was on the table", to which I responded, "I'll have to pass on that one, unless your parents would like to see me in my shower cap and towel." By the time I was dressed and ready to eat the quickest breakfast of my life, Eric had left and The Road-Trippers were thankfully packing their things.

My breakfast went mercifully undisturbed, and I shot into the bathroom to brush my teeth before my quick exit. Even though it was a full 20 minutes before my normal departure time, I was more eager than ever to get to the office.

They entered the living room as I was organizing my necessities for the day. Hoping to expedite their departure, I quickly offered my help in suggesting what they may have forgotten. Luckily, I remembered the ice-packs for their cooler that were still vacationing in our freezer, and essentially saved them from any travel discomfort.

The culmination of this week was upon us, and the anticipation was almost too much to bear. It seemed as if I was moving in slow motion; I was indeed savoring this departure. I quickly hugged the Large Sweaty Ones goodbye, and for the last time, turned to leave the House-O- Noise. Practically running to escape into my cozy little car, I knew I would return home that evening to a wonderfully quiet, empty house. No blue monster lurking in front, No lounging vacationers, and no more lingering scent of Green Apple Jolly Ranchers.

The In-Law emancipation was upon me, and I confidently left the soon-to-be In-Law-Free House when I heard them calling after me. Accustomed to ignoring most of their insignificant chatter, initially I went unphased by their utterances. Once I processed the ramifications of their fateful words, however, I quickly fled the house and did not turn back.

The words still echo in my head to this day:

"Good bye, sweetheart; we'll be back this fall on our way to San Antonio!"

I think it's going to be one of those years.

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Last Updated: July 25, 1996