Fork Probe Germaphobe

Dear Lisa,

I hope you can help me. My situation is a little backwards. My coNUNdrum is offbeat and I'm looking for everyday advice.

Recently we had the opportunity to visit close family members. We live in different states, so usually only see each other once a year. We love getting together. They are so good to us when we visit, fixing meals, playing games, and just showing us a great time.

My coNUNdrum occurs at meal time. After eating, certain family members will use their used forks to take seconds on meat, often moving aside pieces with their fork to get to the piece they want. It turns my stomach to see them do this. There were times I wanted seconds, but after seeing this, I refrained.

Should I say something, maybe turning it into a joke? Should I just keep my mouth shut for the sake of family peace? Or, am I just a germophobic whimp?

Signed,
Hungry, Hungry, Whimpo!


Dear Hungry, Hungry, Whimpo!
I've having a smidge of trouble drumming up compassion for your coNUNdrum.

When my mom passed away, my dad (step-dad technically) moved in with us.  He loved to cook—was a gourmet chef of sorts, which should have made me jump up and down with joy. But alas, it was not so.

Dad was a "taster," and didn't believe in washing or even rinsing the spoon with which he tasted. Yup, utensils with his saliva dripping from their tips went right back into pots and pans. Oh, how I tried to remedy this. We had variations of this conversation a multitude of times:


"Dad," I'd say, "tell me I didn't just see that."
"What?"
"You know—the spoon in the mouth and then directly into the ragout pot thing."
"Pshaw."
"That's not hygenical."
"Not a real word."
"It's not clean."
"Wive's tale."
"Pleeeeeeease, Dad, it grosses the kids out (yeah, I blamed it all on them)."
"Okay, okay—I'll try to remember."


But he never remembered for long, and we were left with nothing but to make faces.

The kicker came the day he dropped his front tooth denture into the white chili—and didn't realize it until we fished it out of Madeline's bowl during dinner.

Hungry Whimpo—how I wish a fork in the steak once a year had been my coNUNdrum. But this isn't about me, is it? No. You asked if you should use humor in changing your family. NO! Humor won't make a dent with them—of this I'm fairly certain. Sure, you could combine it with another strategy like leading by example, but this is how I picture that going down.


You reach for a second piece of steak with your own used fork and say in a loud dizty voice:
"OOPS!—I was about to use my own fork to get that! Wouldn't want to expose you to all the microbes roaming around in this mouth-ha-ha-ha-ha."
"Ah— little darlin'—we don't care 'bout no skinkin' microbes. Here, let me get that for ya."


You could make sure the steak platter and serving fork stayed close to you and that you served out seconds—but that might make you appear territorial.

You could offer to make kabobs for the family--though their fingers might accidently touch your spears.

You could get your seconds when you get your firsts and ignore comments of eating like a pig (not meant as an insult to the swine population).

You could forgo seconds—who needs two helpings of red meat?

OR you could step up to the plate and take the bold and violent approach—the only one I believe is long-term and has a chance of working. First, have the serving fork in the ready position.

.
When Grandpa Joe (not his real name), reaches for seconds, scream, "Stop right there or I'll stab your antediluvian flesh with this completely sterile fork, and I'm not joking. Obviously, I'm the only one who knows how to use this."


If that doesn't get your "point" across, nothing will.


I wish you luck with this trauma, trauma, trauma, Whimpy, and I mean that with a minimum amount of "sass" as my friend, Verna, likes to say.


Any words of wisdom from the readers? The lines are now open and sanitized.