My nemesis, the blender

Most father-in-laws put their son-in-law candidates through some type of mental test to ensure they're qualified to marry their daughter. Mine put me though a physical screening.

It was my first time at his house, and I had recently proposed to my wife. I woke up to find him in the kitchen, running the blender. He didn't say much, just added a few more ice cubes, pureed for a couple more moments, and then poured me a tall glass of a highly viscous concoction.

"I made you some breakfast," he said with a smirk. "I drink this every morning." Understanding the task before me (and the award ahead), I buckled down, braced my spine, and started to gulp the drink of doubt. My spine almost gave way.

It was packed with spinach, but that was the good part. I assumed the strong tang to it was some sort of fish oil, but I couldn't identify the crunchy chunks that lodged in my throat. I was hoping they were some type of nut, but I wouldn't have been surprised if he had thrown in the skull of a dead mouse.

I continued to gulp it down. As I reached the half-way point he leaned in expectantly, waiting for it all to come back up. Little did he know, I had experience with such a texture and taste. Growing up, my mom went through some health phase where she'd regularly drink a similar blended concoction for breakfast each day.

My younger brother and I called it "The Green Devil." It was named by its color, and because we figured it was the choice of drink in hell. We used to dare each other to drink the portion remaining in the blender after she poured her glass. Being the younger, he was usually forced to take the dare.

Today he suffers from regular heart burn, a condition that could likely be traced back to "The Green Devil."

I went beyond the half-way point with my future father-in-law's drink and continued on until I saw the light at the end of the tunnel (i.e., the bottom of the glass). I couldn’t see it in his face, but I could tell he was amazed. He acted nonchalant as he grabbed the blender and filled my glass once more.

Yeah, I haven’t had great experiences with blenders. My wife and I still talk about “The Fiasco of ’06.” I was trying to make some frothy chocolate milk. The lid to the blender wasn’t on correctly, and I didn’t notice as I went on to hit the “smoothie” button. Suddenly I was getting showered in Nesquick, and so was the kitchen.

And just last night, my wife and I decided to make a couple shakes with some frozen fruit and ice cream. We loaded up the blender, and I placed it on the control station. But there was an error when I docked it. The flanges of the spinny thing that turns the blades weren’t in line with the flanges of the thing on the control station.

I turned it on full power and chunks of plastic and frozen fruit began shooting off in all directions. My wife took cover in another room. I ducked behind the counter and felt my way around until I grasped the cord and yanked it from the wall outlet.

Now we're without a blender, and I think I like it that way.