Lola's Fight With Her Sister

I came back to Tita Minerva's on Sunday in high spirits. I sat down at the dinner table where everyone except for Lola Fannie was sitting. We were all talking and sharing the fruit that Mary Ann just bought me when Lola Fannie came downstairs to join us...or so I thought. I was about to get up to say hello when she blew right by the table. (Ha- not literally blew by considering she can't walk that fast, but she did walk right past the table with an air of purpose.) 

I looked at Tita Minerva and said, "Uh oh. Is she mad?" And she shook her head yes. Then Lola says, "Don't worry. She's mad at me." 

So I guess while I was gone they had a fight. A fight huge enough that Lola told me she wouldn't ever come back to the Philippines until her beloved older sister- the reason she came to the Philippines in the first place- was no longer with us. And I must add, she didn't word it quite as nicely and made sure to tell everyone in the house that she wasn't coming back. For those of you who haven't had the pleasure of meeting my Lola, this may come across as a striking thing to say about someone...especially your own sister. While I agree that it is, I can't say that I was really fazed by it and I'm pretty sure I actually laughed when she told me. Those are such typical words from her that I wasn't bothered by them, especially since I knew she didn't really mean them.  So how could such an outrageous fight begin? The answer is a pressure cooker, my friends.

Apparently the last time my Lola saw her sister open a pressure cooker, all of the hot steam ballooned in her face for a rather unpleasant experience. So this time when Lola Fannie was going to open the pressure cooker, my Lola tells her: "You know, so you don't have all that steam in your face when you open the cooker you need to first run it under cold water." Lola Fannie assures her that she knows this. The dialogue ensues as follows...

My Lola: "Then why don't you do it?"

Her sister: "Because I don't want to."

My Lola: "No. It's because you don't know how to."

Her sister: "Yes I know how to!"

My Lola: "No you don't!"
Her sister: "Yes I do!"

My Lola: "No you don't! You are dumb!"

Her sister: "I am not dumb! You are!"

My Lola: "No you are dumb!"

Her sister: "No you are!"

My Lola: "No you are!"

Her sister: "No you are!"

My Lola: "No! You are dumb and stupid!"

And from what I gather, that's pretty much where the dialogue ended. My Lola is 73 years old. Her sister is 85. They didn't talk all of Sunday or all of Monday. They refused to sit by each other at the dinner table and slammed their plates and cups down when they were ready to eat. Until 2:30 this morning.

They share a bedroom and they each have their own twin beds. At 2:30 this morning, my Lola knocked, literally knocked, on her sister's head. "I'm hungry," she said. "Let's eat." And so the fight had been resolved.

I took this picture just now as I'm writing this post.
As you can see, they love each other again.

So as it turns out, food is the answer.