>I had a lovely dinner with my mom and grandmother this evening. After much dithering, handwringing, and sixth-guessing, we wound up at a diner called "What's Cooking?" (Actually, it was specifically George's What's Cooking?) The answer: nothing very good except the conversation.

Granny perused the menu carefully. "I don't see tongue sandwich on it anywhere," she said as she squinted.

"This is not a Jewish diner," my mom replied. "It's more Greek."

"I can't get hot tongue?" My grandmother clicked her tongue in disgust. "What if I want hot tongue?"

"I'll give you some hot tongue!" I said luridly and stuck my out. We cracked up.

Later in the meal (Granny settled for a salmon salad sandwich), we fondly reminisced about the Thanksgiving that granny brough dinner to a grinding halt when she explained why the word "cunt" is perfectly acceptable but the f-word is horrendous.

There is nothing like a meal with your people, even when the tongue is nonexistent, the pancakes and eggs are overcooked, and the braised beef is subpar.