English was not my mom’s first language, but she occasionally shared surprising wisdoms.
She said to me once “Regret, is the poison of life.” That has really stuck with me.
But another time, my mom told me my dad was at the hospital getting an “autopsy,” when she meant a “biopsy” (of a mole).
And when I drove her to the airport to visit my aunt, I asked why her carry-on was so heavy, and she told me she was carrying “pot.” (It was a vase she made in ceramics for my aunt). She also had a ziplock baggie of Cremora in there. I guess my aunt uses real cream and it makes the coffee cold, and my mom thought the Cremora jar would have made the carry-on even heavier.
You can’t make this stuff up.