Last Wednesday, I get home after 7pm and it's Angry Hour in my kitchen.
Husband and his mother are in the kitchen, having some drinks. Earlier that day, Mother-in-Law arrived and Husband took her to Harry's Farmer's Market/Whole Foods.
MIL was outraged at the prices and can't understand why people would pay so much when it's not hard to make your own sausage or French cheese or whatever. Yes, well, Husband and I don't shop there regularly but do like to pick up stuff for special occasions, like when his mother comes to visit.
Well, she allowed that her town of Madison has a Whole Foods, but on the west side, where it belongs with all the yuppies, and not on the east side where she lives.
Oh, and here's where the button pushing began. Husband said, you don't live on the east side, you live in the center (Madison is an isthmus, meaning a strip of land squashed in between 2 lakes, so there's a definite east side and west side, with the state capitol right in the middle of the isthmus).
MIL: No, I don't, I live on the east side!
Husband: I was born and raised in that town and I know that I grew up in the center, not on the east side. -- Husband wisely had the kitchen island between him and his mother. He knows which buttons to push, and where to be when he does it.
MIL: No, I've lived there longer than you, so f*** you!