Gross Halloween Candy and a Swamp Cocktail

When I worked full-time, I always had a candy bowl in my office.  The weird thing about it is I never really ate much of the candy in the bowl.  I can truly resist candy…until it is in a bowl in my house waiting for Halloween.  I’m not sure why I test this theory every year, but I do and the results are always the same.  Candy wrappers are all over my house and the bowl has to be refilled prior to Halloween night.  Sometimes, the bowl even has to be re-filled twice.

When I was growing up, my mom had me so worried about razor blades in our candy that it was barely enjoyable to eat the candy.  Every piece had to be inspected except for those gross candies that came in the red and black wrappers…those we could eat, but who wanted to actually eat those?  Does anyone even remember what those things were called??  Yuck.  That is one throw back from the seventies that I do not want to revisit.  I remember one year, as the candy was being thoroughly inspected by my mom and probably eaten by my dad, I watched an episode of Saturday Night Live.  I remember staring at those horrible orange and black wrapper piece-of-shit candies and then looking up to see Gilda Radner (has there ever been another person named Gilda?) playing a kid getting a story read to her.  John Belushi played her dad.  She was scared of monsters in the closet and a weird creature kept coming out of the closet (not in the gay sense, but in the actually walking out of a closet sense) trying to get her.  She’d scream, the monster would disappear and John Belushi would come in and get mad at her.  It was pretty funny and clearly funny enough that I remember it over 30 years later.

On another note, this is a pretty cool and tasty Halloween cocktail.

Swamp Water Halloween Cocktail

Ingredients

1 ½ oz spiced rum

10-12 fresh mint leaves

1 tbsp brown sugar

½ of lime, juice of

2 oz club soda

Splash of cola

10-15 fresh blueberries

Preparation

In a cocktail glass, combine the brown sugar, lime juice and mint.  Pound together to break up the mint and bring out its flavor.  Fill the glass up about ¾ of the way with crushed ice.  Pour the rum over.  Add club and a splash of cola to give it a swampy color.  Throw in some blueberries and serve.

Cocktail Source

A Conversation with My Mom

I called my mom a few days ago for our usual weekly talk.  My sister recently had a birthday and she talked to me about the meal she made.  She made lasagna and about 27 other items…she likes to go big instead of go home when cooking.  She is also a big fan of shrimp.  These days, you can find shrimp in just about anything she cooks from stuffing, marinara sauces, breakfast foods, chocolate cake, potato casserole, etc.  Shrimp is her salt and pepper and it makes her wanna shoop.  Shoop da doop.  At any rate, I heard about the meal, the guests to the dinner, the weather and then we talked about all that again.  Before the third telling, I asked for my dad because I wanted to check in with him, too.  My mom said hold on and starting screaming my dad’s name…over and over again.  The thing about my mom’s phone is she has a cordless phone.  For Christmas one year I gave her the cordless phone so she could move around while talking.  Ever since she has received it, which was years and years ago, she generally moves around as far as the typical phone cord used to be…but not for our conversation a few days ago.  For this conversation, she went mobile and delivered the phone directly to my dad who was apparently taking a shit.  I know this because in between her screams of my dad’s name she also said a few times, “What?  Are you on the commode?  THE COMMODE – ARE. YOU. ON. THE. COMMODE!”  I heard him answer in the affirmative and then he was on the line.  This naturally caused me to ask my dad, “Are you in an important meeting.”  He laughed and said, “Yes, an emergency meeting.”  I then told him it was important that he close the deal.  We went back and forth like this for awhile which was the extent of our conversation because he clearly had business that needed his attention.

My Mom's Birthday Surprise

There are just some days that your blog simply writes itself.  Spending the day with my mother is always like that.  So in lieu of WTF and WOW Recipe Wednesday, I’ll write about my day. The day started out with us picking Mom up to take her to Lowe’s to get supplies to build a box garden.  I decided to do that for her birthday.  She met me at the door, blocking the entrance and saying, “Let’s not build the garden, you’re tired from the drive yesterday.”  I told her I wasn’t and the garden was happening.  She said, “Don’t spend any money on that garden.”  Sigh…it just went on and on, but the garden was going to be built.   She then insisted she was going to drive.  Now here’s the deal…it takes my parents awhile to get anywhere.  They drive slowly because they are old.  My mom has added an extra feature of constantly slamming on the brakes for no reason.  As we were headed to the car, I said, “how about I drive and chauffer you around!”  Thankfully, she liked the idea.  So we piled into her 10 year old Chevy Malibu with only 59,084 miles on it and headed to Lowe’s.  As we left her neighborhood, she yelled, “OH!  I forgot my shoes!”  Tiffany and I looked at each other astonished because to loosely quote Andy Dufresne from The Shawshank Redemption, “When do you ever notice someone’s shoes?”  Back we go to get her shoes, and then we were off again to Lowe’s.  The shopping trip was eventful in the fact that we met a man who had a five day old puppy with him.  We played with the puppy and he said, “he (Gizmo was the dog’s name) is already off milk and eating dog food.”  WTF?!

We then picked up my dad and headed out to lunch.  Dad drove…we got there eventually.  On the way to the restaurant Mom asked me if I remembered the Kennedy assassination.  I said, “Well…I wasn’t born yet, but I have read about it.”  She said, “Oh, then I guess you wouldn’t remember that.”

After returning from lunch, I started construction on the garden.  Mom wanted to “help” and ended up standing everywhere I needed to work.  At one point, she even somehow got trapped inside the box garden and we had to help her step over.  Once I finished construction and moved on to painting, my Dad came out and said, “You are sweating.  Let me turn on the fan.”  My parents have a ceiling fan on the patio.  It has been there since 1982.  Dad went inside and flipped the switch.  Suddenly, I felt a thud on my back and felt a stinging pain.  I looked over at Tiffany she appeared to be moving in slow-motion and was mouthing, “W…A…S…P!”  My mom’s arms began flailing and she started screaming “Shut it off! Shut it off!” at my Dad.  Apparently, the wasps had built a nest inside the fan and got disturbed when Dad turned it on.  I turned around to see a swarm of wasps encircling the patio and my Dad unknowingly smiling and waving at us through the window.  I took off in a defensive run with the pain in my shoulder intensifying.  I should also mention that the wasps were hummingbird sized.   Turns out, I had been stung.  Tiffany took the stinger out.  My arm is numb, but I’ll live and we did laugh hysterically once the terror had died.  Finally, I finished the garden. 



Dad said, "Your Mom is sure proud of her new garden!"

She kept wanting to help.  She grabbed the cart.  It wasn't really all that helpful.

My Mom and Her Bucket of Fried Chicken

My parents grew up during the Depression.  As a result, they play it safe with their money.  They probably even hide it in their underwear.  According to my dad, as a kid he had to kill and eat chickens to survive and once he became a teenager he refused to eat chicken anymore.  To this day, he hates chicken and won’t eat it.  This always struck me as odd because isn’t that kinda what we do with chickens?  Anyway, when I was growing up we would always have chicken if dad was out of town.  It was like a big chicken fiesta buffet!  When he came back home, we always hid the evidence…we didn’t want to be judged for our chicken indulgences.  These days, my dad doesn’t travel so my mom doesn’t really have a chicken outlet anymore.  She makes all the meals and out of consideration for him she steers clear of chicken even though she loves chicken.  Well…this chicken issue came to a head yesterday.  I talked with my mom on the phone.  All she talked about was a bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken (I realize it is called KFC now, but my mom kept saying Kentucky Fried Chicken in her overly southern accent).  She said, “I’m putting my foot down and having myself a bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken.”  I laughed.  She didn’t laugh.  This indicated the seriousness of the bucket of chicken.  “Your dad can just have a hot dog, because I’m having chicken!”  “I might even have three pieces!”  “It will be fried and greasy!”  “God Bless America.” She just went on and on.  I’m proud of her for rebelling and getting her chicken.  You can only keep a southern woman away from a bucket of fried chicken for just so long.

My Mom Strikes Again

It would only be right, if just like last year (click here for flaming beanie baby story), I told you a story about something my mom did that I will never forget.  I could tell you about our phone conversation this morning and how she kept saying valeers instead of veneers.  But, that would only be a new Amyism instead of a story. 

When I was eight, my parents took my sister and me on a trip to Eureka Springs.  I wish I were at my parent’s house right now so I could scan a picture from that trip.   The picture is of me and my sister, wearing matching dresses, and standing on an arch bridge with a ridiculous fake background.  I’m not sure why we even got this vacation trip photo.  I really blame the weird 1970s more than my parents for that odd ball photo.  At any rate, I have always loved dogs.  The 1968 World Book Encyclopedias, that my mom still uses to reference current events (click here for example), are worn and tattered on the section about dogs.  This is from me looking at those pages endlessly as a kid.  I was a weirdo who spent hours reading the encyclopedia and incorporating all sorts of facts at odd moments in a conversation.  I also used historical facts to freak out our babysitters with past-life regression tales.  I was sort of a pioneer in this since it was years before Shirley MacLaine ever announced all her past-life travels.  Anyway, my parents got me a dog for my sixth birthday.  It was a dream come true.  He was a Dachshund (pronounced dockson by my mom).  His name was Baron Von Maxwell (Baron for short) and he was mine!

Since my sister is also a mother, I will insert a little story about her, too.  She was terrified of dogs.  Like Sally Field’s acting in Sybil, she would go freak-out crazy with them.  This, of course, was completely hysterical to me and my dad.  We jacked with her at every turn with my new less than 2 pound puppy.  Finally, one night she was lying on the floor and Baron climbed up on her back.  This Maury Povich style immersion therapy worked and suddenly she was no longer afraid of Baron.

Two years later when we took our trip to Eureka Springs, I cried at the thought of leaving Baron.  He was my best bud and followed me around everywhere.  The separation would just be too much.  I’d never survive it. My parents caved (or rather my mom put her foot down with my dad) and Baron was allowed to travel with us.  The resort where we were staying did not allow pets.  Way before the Honey Badger, my mom didn’t give a shit.  She went to the vet and got some valium for Baron and she bought a pink baby blanket (not sure why she got a pink blanket since Baron was clearly a non-neutered boy with kiwi-sized balls).  She wrapped Baron in the blanket and held him (with his face showing) like a baby.  When the bellboy came to get our bags, mom stood holding Baron.  She looked at the bellboy and said, “Be quiet, my baby is sleeping.”  He looked at her “baby” and looked at her for an unusually long time and then kept putting our bags on the cart. As we walked through the lobby she continued the fake baby fiasco to sneak him in the hotel.  It was absolutely hilarious and completely endearing.  She didn’t have to do that for me, but she did and I love her for that.

Nothing says, I love you mom like a tasty Mother’s Day cocktail.  Give this one a try!

Limoncello and Prosecco Cooler with Raspberry Ice Cubes

Ingredients

Fresh raspberries

A couple sprigs of mint

4 oz cold sparkling wine

2 oz Limoncello liqueur, cold (When you buy, just store in the freezer to keep cold)

Preparation

Put your glasses in the freezer so that they are cold.  Put raspberries on a plate; separated from each other and place in the freezer at least 15 minutes before serving time.  Gently ‘smush’ a couple of small mint leaves and add to each glass along with 5-6 of the frozen raspberry ice cubes.  Add limoncello, then the sparkling wine.

Cocktail Source

Roses and My Mom

I planted a rose garden not too long ago.  I divorced roses years ago because they got all diseased plus the thorns are just scary.  I have an irrational fear of rose thorns and cacti.  I know at any moment, I’m going to fall and get ripped to shreds.  It keeps me awake at night occasionally.  But I decided to meet my crazy head on and plant some roses.  They are already blooming and I have yet to fall and rip my flesh off on the thorns!  I’m hopeful that this project will turn out nicely.

Source

I talked to my mom yesterday.  She got a wedding shower invitation in the mail.  She read it to me in detail four times.  She also mentioned (3 times) the opening of a new grocery store in town.  She told me that my dad was going to drive her by the store.  They were going to circle like sharks to see if they wanted to go in the store.  Once the reconnaissance mission was completed, mom planned to call all her friends and report back to them her thoughts about this new store.  I hung up the phone satisfied that mom and dad had a very busy day planned.

Mom Wisdom and Lemon Drop Martini

I talked to my mom yesterday.  She got new gutters.  She kept talking about my gal.  “I gave my gal a glass of water.”  My gal borrowed John’s ladder.”  “My gal got here really early.”  I finally realized she was actually saying Miguel.  She also told me she bought Rachael Ray’s pots.  She said Target had them on sale for $39.99, but she didn’t want to go that far.  “That is too far to drive on a Sunday.”  ????????  She took the Target ad to Kohl’s.  The manager gave her the same deal, but wouldn’t take her 15% off coupon.  “Can you believe they wouldn’t take that coupon?!”  She said the pots wouldn’t crack at temperatures up to 500 degrees.  She said four times, “I don’t think I have ever cooked anything at 500 degrees!”

She then asked me about Valentine’s Day (BTW, she pronounces it Valentime’s).  “Where did you take Tiffany?”  I said, “She had to work so we didn’t go out.  Plus we don’t really celebrate Valentine’s Day.”  She didn’t care for my answer.  “You should have taken Tiffany out.  Olivia would have taken Natalia out for Valentime’s.”  I said, “What are you talking about?”  She went on to explain Olivia Spencer and Natalia Rivera’s relationship on the Guiding Light.  She also asked me AGAIN if Tiffany and I were ever going to get one of those “oriental” babies.  I promised Mom I would be more like Olivia and Natalia next year and that we would see if Target was having a sale on oriental babies and try to get the same deal at Kohl’s WITH the 15% off coupon.  She laughed and said, “Listen…you know, those pots can be heated to 500 degrees without cracking!  Have you ever cooked anything at 500 degrees?”


I've decided the best "after talking to mom cocktail"  is in fact a Lemon Drop Martini.  Check it out!

Lemon Drop Martini

Ingredients

2 parts Vodka

¾ Cointreau

1 part freshly squeezed lemon juice

¾ part simply syrup (equal parts sugar and water, simmer in saucepan until sugar is dissolved; cool completely)

Lemon wedge

Lemon sugar mix (mix ½ cup granulated sugar with zest of 1 lemon)

Preparation

Moisten the rim of each martini glass with lemon wedge and then turn the glass upside down and twist into the lemon sugar.  In shaker combine vodka, Cointreau, lemon juice, simple syrup and a handful of ice; shake for at least one minute.  Pour the mixture through a strainer into a prepared martini glass and garnish with a lemon slice.

Recipe Source

Lying to My Mom About Margaret Thatcher

My mom called me last weekend to let me know she had seen the Iron Lady with Meryl Streep. She said, “I like muh muh merrrral strip…oh, I can never say her name!”  When my phone rang, I answered and said, “Hey, Mom, how are you?” She said, “How old was Margaret when she died?”  I said, “Huh?”  Then she went on to tell me she had seen the movie.  I finally said, “Mom, Margaret Thatcher isn’t dead.”  She said, “Yes, she is.  She died three months ago.”  I said, “No.”  She said, “Yes.”  I finally looked on the internet and said, “She’s still alive.”  We went round and round and round.  My mom did not buy that she was alive and kept stating she just wanted to know how old Margaret was when she died.  I finally caved and said 86.  Yes…I lied to my mother.  I figured she’d forget about it.  I figured this because sometimes she does not get the obvious…like say the premise of the Iron Lady.  Here is an example:

Iron Lady is told through Margaret Thatcher’s dementia flashbacks.  She hallucinates that her husband is there…when in reality, he has been dead for years.  I said to my mom, “Isn’t that sad that she thinks her husband is there when he is actually dead.”  Mom said, “He’s dead?  I didn’t know that.  Are you sure?”  I said, “Yes Mom, I’m sure.”  Our conversation continued, but I’m sure she didn’t believe me about the husband. See what I mean?

At any rate, I got another call.  Mom’s friend, Gloria, wanted to know how I had so “quickly” got the information about Margaret’s death age.  BTW – my mom and Gloria are on a first name bases with Lady Thatcher.  I said, “Google.”  My brain, however, was thinking I’m busted.  When I said Google my mom repeated snoogle.  “No, Mom, GOOGLE G.O.O.G.L.E.  My mom never says internet and has no idea what internet means.  She always says computer.  She said, “Do you just type that in the computer?  What is snoogle google?  I looked up Margaret in the World Books and I can’t find anything.”  Please keep in mind; the World Books she is referring to were new in 1972.  I said, “Google is a place to search for information.”  Mom says, “Can Gloria get there or does she need a card like the library?”  I then explained how she needed to type the information in because I assume Gloria knows where to find the internet on her computer.  Explaining www. Google.com and having to repeat everything 10 times until mom has it written down was…exhausting.  Any day now, I suspect, my cover will be blown. Gloria will uncover my mother appeasing lie.  I’ll live in fear until that day…which was today.  The phone rang.  I saw it was my mom and nearly jumped out of my skin.  It was time for me to pay the price.  I answered and mom said, “Did you hear about Paula?”  Mom has a friend name Paula so I said, “What’s wrong with Paula?”  She said, “the diabetes.”  It was then that I knew she meant Paula Deen.  Mom went on to explain to me that, “You don’t have to always eat sweets it just has something to do with your pancreas.  I don’t really know the story.  But I do know she’ll have to prick her finger.”  The conversation continued with no mention of the very much alive Margaret.  Hopefully, I dodged a bullet.

New Amyisms and Post Thanksgiving Exercise Plan

Thanksgiving yielded some new Amyisms.  I also got a delightful quote from my mother while watching a Lifetime movie with her.  A deranged psycho, who had maneuvered his way into an innocent family’s life, was killing the new girlfriend’s ex-husband.  The murder included a broken vase from Tiffany’s upside his head, full-on stabbing and very dramatic music. As we watched this, my mom looked at me and said of the man stabbing the other man, “I think he might be a murderer.”  That seemed like a fair deduction.

Faucet – Facup

Breakfast – Breffust

Calcium – Calsum

The Thanksgiving eating binge needs to be over for me.  I need to eat healthier foods and  commit to more exercise.  I have to get in fighting shape for the upcoming Christmas eating binge.  This video helped put me in the mindset of making the most of my treadmill experience.  This lady is awfully graceful.  My treadmill dance moves aren’t going to really measure up to her moves, but I will bring the funk and I will bring the jive to my workouts.

My Mom's Mole

I talked with my mom yesterday.  She let me know that she had a mole biopsied a few weeks ago.  I already knew that she had something done because when we were in Oklahoma for the OU vs. Texas Tech disaster, I noticed something on the side of her face.  It was relatively small; however, she had applied seven pounds of the wrong skin tone colored concealer over the biopsy spot.  On top of the concealer, she had then applied powder…lots of powder.  Her attempt to conceal the mole made it visible to NASA’s global positioning satellites.

Talking to her yesterday, she told me that the mole was benign, but needed to be removed.  She has convinced herself that the doctor is going to burn all the hair off her head.  I explained that the removal was actually done with liquid nitrogen and that it would be frozen and then removed.  She didn’t buy my explanation.  She has imagined a large fire blowing laser that will not pinpoint the mole, but instead blow a giant ball of flames on her hair and her mind will not let her see the treatment as anything but that.  I finally gave up and just told her she had a nice shaped head so she’d look good bald.  She didn’t laugh.

During our conversation, I picked up a few more Amyisms.  Other Amyisms can be found by clicking here and here.

Mozzarella – Muzzarellow

Pneumonia – Jewmoanya

Amy quote - “The earthquake even shook my pansies!”

Writing and More Amyisms

On November 1, I created an account with National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo).  NaNoWriMo is a month long challenge to create a novel and write at least 50,000 words.  I’ve always considered myself a writer.  I am published.  I researched, wrote and organized pictures in a pictorial history of the town where I grew up.  I had another paper published in the Chronicles of Oklahoma.  I have written a novel (which by the way I am dusting off for NaNoWriMo…which I suppose is sort of cheating since I’ve already written over 63,000 words for it, but whatever) and a couple of children’s books.  I also have religiously, but without actual religion, kept this blog going for 314 days in a row.  I even sometimes get paid for my writing…sure it may just buy dinner with a buy one get one free coupon at Macaroni Grill, but money is money, right?  I have always loved words.  I also have always loved books.  Losing yourself in the words someone has compiled to create an amazing novel is one of the best ways to spend your time.  Writing is not easy, but it is something I will always want to do. 

I talked with my mom earlier today.  The conversation yielded two new Amyisms to add to the list I created earlier.  Click here for the first list.

Argyle Socks = Argo Socks

Vitiligo (condition that causes depigmentation of sections of skin) = Infantiago

Words According to my Mother A.K.A. Amyisms

Oprah – Ophree

 

vacuum – vachum

Chiminea - Chiminee

Fuji Apples – Figi Apples

Pinon wood – pinto wood

Shiner Bock Beer – Schindler's 

napkin - napchin

Wal Mart – Wal Mark

Hiatal Hernia – High Up Hernia

Quiche – kesh

My dog Celie - Ceiling

As The World Turns…According to My Mother

My mom is a complete gossip.  She has a circle of friends and they burn up the phone lines every morning.  I can’t imagine there is ever that much to discuss.  My mom just turned eighty and stays pretty close to the house; the same is true of her friends.  But even still, every morning they run down who did what to whom and why.  It usually is fairly mundane, but sometimes a real juicy bit like a mental breakdown, broken hip, returned item to Kohl’s, too much to drink at the Indian casino or a fender bender at the Homeland will rock their world.  Recently, my mom’s pharmacist of 20 years “disappeared” from behind the counter.  He just doesn’t work there anymore.  My mom just knows he must have been fired.  She went to pick up a prescription, he wasn’t there, she asked why, and in her mind all she got were shady and guarded responses.  She went home and called her friends.  Each friend then called up to the pharmacy and asked where he was…same guarded responses.  This confirmed, to my mother, that there must be more to the story.  My mom then called me.  My partner is a pharmacist, too, so she assumed she would know something; doesn’t matter that we live 800 miles away.  Obviously, Tiffany knew nothing.  My mom has continued her investigation for three days now.  She said this morning, “someone will crack and talk.”  She just can’t stand that she doesn’t know what happened.  I can only imagine how the employees there must scatter when they see her coming.  Our phone conversation this morning was brief; it was limited to the weather and the missing pharmacist.  She repeated everything she had already told me then added her new information…which to my untrained ear sounded like no new information.  She had to go because she was headed up to the store again.  She didn’t really need anything, but she and Lucille were going to patrol the area plus they both cut out a coupon for Pepto Bismol to not seem too suspicious.  It would not surprise me if they wore sunglasses and floppy hats to the store.  Such is my mother’s hobby.

My mom as her 80th birthday party.  She is no doubt thinking about the pharmacist.

Pause in “True” History Tuesday to Remember Elvis

Today marks the 34^th anniversary of Elvis’ death.  If you are like me and had parents who grew up in the south…Elvis was like a religion.  His name was spoken in hushed tones of reverence.  My mom would cry talking about the death of his infant twin brother.  She also would talk like she actually knew the Colonel and Elvis’s mama.  We had a cat.  My mom named her Priscilla.  My mom had palpitations when Elvis did that special and wore the black leather outfit.  She literally, in true southern fashion, got a case of the vapors. She still talks about that and it was over 40 years ago. Elvis was big during my childhood…and I’m not referring to his weight. My dad always liked to tell this story about when he lived in Memphis.  Dad was downtown, headed to work and Elvis pulled up in a giant red Cadillac.  He saw him across the street.  Elvis got out of the car and was clearly arguing with some guy.  Elvis ended up punching the guy in the face, got back in the car and drove away.  I’m not sure I actually believe Dad’s story, but it is fun to watch him tell the story and embellish the particulars with every retelling. When I was 8, I got into trouble.  We were watching Elvis’ Blue Hawaii.  I was being loud and obnoxious.  Mom got really angry and sent me to my room with no pie.  You didn’t make noise when Elvis was on the television.  I learned this the hard way because I love pie.

We visited Graceland when I was a kid.  It was like we were going to Mecca.  Mom laughed and cried...the only way to really describe it is to say she ran the gauntlet of emotions.  She must have been exhausted. It is a vacation I will never forget.  To this day, mom has a picture of Jesus on the fridge right next to a postcard she purchased from Graceland.  I’m a proper offspring of my parents; I’ve been to Graceland four times.  I love Elvis’ music, I tolerate his movies, I love fried banana and peanut butter sandwiches plus I think he was one fine-ass looking man.  I remember exactly what I was doing when the news came on that he had died and I know today I will call my mom and we will talk about how much we both love and miss The King of Rock and Roll.

Dropping the Fried Chicken

I was telling a friend this story the other day and figured I’d share it here, too.  When I was growing up my mom was really picky about her house and things.  She’s mellowed considerably in her older age, but back then you didn’t make messes or you suffered the consequences.  Examples include:  you had to take your shoes off before you walked in the house, there was plastic on the living room sofa and she actually mopped the garage floor.   It was vital that you not spill, drop or make messy anything. 

When I was six, just before starting kindergarten, we went to Kentucky Fried Chicken (it was called that then, none of this KFC crap).  My dad was out of town so mom was treating us to fast food chicken.  It was a rarity.  I was totally excited.  I had a pivotal role in our adventure.  I had to hold the chicken in my lap for the ride home.  My arms encircled the bucket.  I gripped it as if it was a precious artifact from ancient times.  There was no way I was going to mess up mom’s car.  When we got back home, mom pulled into the garage.  I gingerly stepped out of the car with my very important cargo.  I carefully shut the door using my backside and then immediately fell over, tossing the chicken out of the bucket and all over the garage floor.  I felt my heart sink and the panic rising.  Wide-eyed and holding back tears, I looked at mom and prepared to get in all sorts of holy hell trouble.  She turned around, looked down at the chicken and then back up at me.  My lip was quivering.  Then completely out of left field, she smiled and said, “It’s ok…we all make mistakes with chicken.” We picked up the chicken together and when it was all back in the bucket she said, “This is our little secret.”  And it was.  My sister got home from school and we had that chicken for dinner.  It was so good, but what was really special was as we ate the chicken my mom smiled at me.  I love her for that moment and to this day never get upset when I make mistakes with chicken.

Mother's Day and a Flaming Beanie Baby

Happy Mother’s Day!!!  In honor of my mother, I figured I would tell a funny story about her.  She doesn’t really understand the internettes or what a blog is…so, don’t worry, she’ll never see this.  I’m not sure if everyone remembers that stupid Beanie Baby craze?  If you don’t, click here for the full-story of the insanity. 

My mom, me, my sister and my brother - 20 years before the Beanie Baby craze took over her life.

My mom completely got into the beanie baby collecting frenzy.  She was like a meth addict looking for her next fix by the Del Rancho. My dad was able to feed her growing addiction.  He owned the Hallmark Store in Stillwater, Oklahoma.  He ordered extra beanies especially for her.  She used her grocery money to pay him.  When we went over for dinners, at this time, the meals were noticeably smaller.  She added shelves to my old room and filled them with Beanie Babies.  She added shelves to my sister’s old room and filled them with Beanie Babies.  Those cute little bastards where everywhere.  The late 1990’s will always be remembered fondly and disturbingly as, “Mom’s Little Beanie Baby Habit.”

Princess Diana died August 31, 1997.  Naturally, the most honorable way to commemorate this tragedy was through the Princess Bear Beanie Baby.  People went ape-shit crazy…or at least a little more ape-shit crazy for this Beanie Baby.  Ty, the Beanie Baby manufacturer, initially only released 12 bears to each store…this caused a complete supply and demand meltdown.  Earth was likely to tilt completely off its axis if everyone didn’t have one of the Princess Bears.  My mom was completely rabid about getting this bear.  She rearranged all the other bears to make room for this priceless piece of history.  There were many sleepless nights, but eventually she was able to add the purple bear to her collection.  There was peace in the world.

A few days after she acquired the Princess Bear, we had a family get together to celebrate a birthday.  Naturally, the meal was very small…several other bears had been purchased at that time.  My mom loves candles.  She had one of those really large three-wick candles sitting on the bar in the living room.  She brought the precious Princess Bear in the living room to show off her recent addition.  She had us all get quiet.  She wanted us to hear the story of this prized tiny stuffed animal filled with beanies.  Her voice choked a little has she told us about the tragedy of Princess Diana (as if we hadn’t heard) and what this bear signified.  As she cradled the bear in her hands (which, by the way, she had wrapped in tissue paper…it was just too precious to touch with human hands) and rotated her body to display it to the entire room, the candle burned bright.  She made another display circle.  On this turn, she got too close to the flame.  The tissue paper instantly erupted in flames.  Jaws dropped around the room.  We all ran toward mom to put the fire out.  She was ok, but the Princess Bear had a burned-off ear.  After the initial fear of seeing your mom potentially going up in flames, the humor of the moment took over.  It was a very somber dinner.  Mom tried to be strong during her moment of personal loss. For the rest of us, it was the hardest dinner to get through.  Trying not to completely crack up laughing and eat is very difficult.