all about mom

Yes. New design. The ideal thing to say would be "I was bored." The truth would be more along the lines of being able to visualize Tara saying -

"Oh my fucking God she put a meganormous picture of a fucking baloney sandwich on her blog! And it's on white bread too!! I will *never* be able to be seen in public with her again!!!"

- or some such thing.

(Cute sammie, no?)

**********

Getting To Know My Mother 101 -

This May she will be 88 years old. 

Her mind is sharper than mine.

Forget that.

Her mind is sharper than all of ours put together.

She is a MASTER manipulator.

She does have a heart of gold though and is more than generous when it comes to helping us all out of jams.

(Thought I'd toss something nice in there.)

If she has no aches, pains and life threatening illnesses to complain about, she'll invent things. An acquaintance of ours is dying of bone cancer, brought on by AIDS.  

"I think I have what Freddie has ..."

"Um. I think *maybe* not Ma ..."

She will give you a list of groceries to buy her. 

Most of the time, she'll "forget" one item, thus making sure you'll come back within a day or two with said forgotten item. 

If you did manage to get everything she needs, she'll thank you by calling someone in the family and letting them know what a fuck up you are when it comes to getting her groceries.

"I told her I wanted three large tomatoes. She got me three medium sized tomatoes instead!"

My brothers - toss in a Southern "bless their hearts" in there - have successfully managed to remove her from their lives unless absolutely necessary. 

Tara is safely tucked away in Germany. 

That leaves me. 

She calls me no less than five times a day. 

One minute to her us equals 10 to us. 

She can't figure out why I only talk to her for 3 minutes.

"Ma .... we've been on the phone for half an hour."

"No. It's only been three minutes ..."

And she goes on. Mother of God, can that woman jump from one subject to the next. I thought I had perfected the art of saying "uh huh" every five minutes until she got wise to the fact that I wasn't listening and started testing me.

"Why did I phone you again?"

"Ahhh .... um .... hmm ...."

Not the best response but probably much better than "Did you know there are literally thousands of pictures of balogna sandwiches on the web? I'm looking through them right now. You should see them all!" 

And then every once in awhile your ear will catch something that might be important.

"Tara is staying in Germany forever."

"She's what? No she isn't. Says who? Where did you hear this??"

"She's taking German lessons."

"So what's that got to do with anything?"

"If she's taking German lessons it means she's staying forever."

"Oh Ma. She's only taking lessons so that she can walk away after two years knowing how to say more than "can I please have a pack of cigarettes" in German."

"No. She's German now."

Meine tochter ist jetzt Deutsch

Hm. I wonder how you say baloney sandwich in German ....

who let the dogs in and other short stories

We have a dog. Chief is his formal name. Chiefy is his name when he's not annoying me. Asshole is his name when he *is* annoying me. (So much fun around here. Yell "asshole" and both the dog and the husband answer.) I rescued Chief from a shelter about 8 years ago and he's a purebred yellow lab. He's also a lazy purebred yellow lab and because of that, he weighs well over 100 lbs. More than enough dog for our house. My brother-in-law, on the other hand, has two dogs. Two HUGE dogs. On occasion, we get to baby-sit his dogs when they have to go away. Over 400 lbs. of dog in one house. Last weekend was one of those occasions.

Sidney - She's still a PUPPY

Chief - doggie company wears him out

Calhoun - A Louisiana rescue and gentle giant

On the plus side, you don't see any cats the entire time they're here.

**********

So on the same weekend that the dogs were here Tasha asked me if we could take William for the weekend. William apparently comes from vampires. William sleeps all day and stays awake all night. His grandmother on the other hand, prefers her sleeping at night. Germany is 6 hours ahead of us. Tara found me still online when she woke up for the day on Sunday.

"Mom?"

"Don't ask ...."

Another daytime nap

**********

And while on the subject of grandchildren, Tara and the girls are coming home for the month of March courtesy of my mom. Last time they were here we had a list of things to do. We accomplished none of them. 

But because we're persevering like that - read: kinda dumb - we've made a new list. 

Belly piercing for me.

New tattoo for Tara.

A trip to the beach for Claudia. (In March???)

Watching The Help together. No boys allowed.

Counting how many days it takes Ellie to eat the 110 popsicles I bought. (On sale!! 2 bucks a box!!!)

A trip to Granny's Attic Treasures on Ottawa St.

A cupcake bake-off where we'll be pitting online recipes against one another.

A group birthday party celebrating the April births of myself, Tara, Hailie and Claudia.

Stay tuned for how many we get done :)

and on the seventh day ....

... she created food and a special guest.

Twenty-four hours before Superbowl Sunday -

I needed buttery round crackers for my crab cakes. I've bought buttery round crackers before. Lots of times even. So I went to my local grocery store and looked for my crackers. Can't find them. That's okay though said me. Normally I buy them at the other local grocery store, the one I don't go to regularly because it's a little more expensive than my usual store. So I jump back into the car and off I go.

No buttery round crackers. I even asked. Said I used to buy them here all the time.

"We don't sell them anymore."

"Why? Is it because they - God forbid - use the word buttery?"

"Probably."

Thinking that I better die soon because if I live to a ripe old age the odds will be good that there will be 3 politically correct words left in the English language, I drive on to yet *another* grocery store -this one being the uber expensive grocery store, the one I only go to when they have something spectacular on sale.

No buttery round crackers.

Okay. Now I'm pissed. I stomp out but on my way out the door I happen to pass a Doritos display and what do I see in front of the display but a life size cardboard cutout of Clay Matthews - defensive end of the Green Bay Packers. Putting the brakes on my feet, I turn and make a beeline straight to customer service.

"How much do you want for Clay Matthews?"

"Who?"

"Clay Matthews. That cardboard football player standing in front of the Doritos."

"Are you serious?"

"Look. It's like this. If I bring that home, my husband will have NO CHOICE but to be nice to me for the next 30 or 40 years."

"Oh well in that case, let me call the manager."

(Gotta love sisterhood)

Long story short, I was told that legally they had to keep the display up until 2 p.m. Sunday. After that, I could have it. All I needed to do was put my name on the back.

Proof that I'll do anything to be worshiped and adored

Aside from having a really cool guest of honor - quiet, didn't make a mess, let me grab his crotch every time I walked by him, every guest should be this great - the company was wonderful, the game was fantastic and the food was incredible. (Having a plethora of adjectives floating around in your brain when it comes time to write about it doesn't hurt either. Saves from having to use the same word over and over again.) I had every intention of taking pictures of everything I made but there was a bottle of Baileys screaming at me from the counter and well, you can guess the rest. I answered the screams.

Thanking Tara for this idea. Football deviled eggs.

Boston Creme Pie - that I turned into a cake

Bwahahahahaha!

plans a b and c

Hi Heathaaaa :)

(Where have you been hiding? Holy shit I've been looking for you non-stop for the past few months!)

**********

Plan A -

Steal an idea for a stadium made out of food from the web and make it your own. They used strategically placed (read: gaps everywhere) rice crispy squares for the outer walls of the stadium. I thought to do one better and make an actual stadium out of cut up cardboard from Ye Olde Local Grocery Store boxes and cover said cardboard in tin foil. Tell hubby which brings us to -

Plan B -

He offered to build me an actual miniature stadium that we can use year in and year out. His plan was to call this stadium Lambeau Field. (Gee, I wonder why.) Anyway, moving right along. I agreed. Thanked him even. (Because I can always repaint it in Steelers colors when he isn't looking.) So he cut the frame out of the cardboard I'd set aside for Plan A and started slapping drywall mud on it. He shaped it while it was wet, it dried beautifully, so he put a second coat on. Same results. Dried great, kept its shape, etc. etc. Third and final coat and for some unknown and bizarre reason, it decided it would rather be overcooked spaghetti. Down it went. This being all of forty-eight hours before a dozen people show up at our door expecting to see a stadium built out of food. Time to cough up  -

Plan C -

Bring back Plan A. Dash back into the car that you'd just gotten out of, fly to the grocery store and make like a madwoman throwing boxes all over the place trying to find the perfect replacement cardboard. (All along thanking the gods that be that you live in downtown Hamilton where you can throw boxes around in the middle of a grocery store like the madwoman that you are and nobody bats an eye.) Bring home what you hope will work and start cutting. You will -

Almost dislocate your thumb trying to cut industrial cardboard with a cheap assed pair of scissors.

Break a fingernail.

Say fuck a lot over your broken nail.

Swear even more over the bends that are already in the cardboard making it next to impossible to shape your oval the way you want it shaped.

Grab the duct tape and force that fucker to do what you want it to do.

Finally say HA! because you feel oh so powerful with your beating up cardboard capabilities.

Cover up the whole cardboard/duct tape mess with tin foil.

Take picture.

Post picture.

The "before players and fans are added" picture