I remember being young enough to be jealous of my older sisters’ “getting” to do the dishes. I used to beg to help them. Then I got old enough to be put on the roster and fight with my sisters’ about who’s turn it was to do them. Fighting was more fun. I don’t remember when I started doing laundry, but I know I was in 4th grade when I had to start ironing my own blouses for school. In 4th grade, our uniform was a jumper, so I didn’t have to iron the back or the front, just the sides. This scandalized my next-in-age sister, but not enough to get her to iron my blouses for me. FCM Of course! Judy Carne. How could I have forgotten that? And she was married to Burt Reynolds.
I stopped like Burt when he dropped Dinah Shore for Sally Field. I mean, I like Sally, but Dinah was one classy lady and too good for Burt. Men should not leave women that are too good for them.
If I didn’t like something Mom was cooking, she made me a tuna sandwich (tuna and mayo only, none of this fancy relish and garlic foo-foo). I’m the youngest, and Mom was pretty tired by the time I started having opinions. After Mom got sick, my poor sisters soon learned that it was easier to make me the sandwich than to try to make me eat something I didn’t like. And I learned how to make my own sandwiches eventually (although Mom’s still taste the best).
BTW, today is my Mom’s 79th birthday. Considering that when she had her heart attack at 44, the doctors gave her 5 years to live, this is quite an achievement. It’s been a blessing that I’ve had my Mom all this time and I hope she stays alive and vital for a long, long time.
Looking back on it, I think '70s TV shows had a huge influence on my personal development. Erin Grey in spandex, Linda Carter in spandex, and then there’s the whole Charlie’s Angels thing. For some reason space travel, crime fighting and detective work in the '70s all seemed to require spandex or bikinis.
I think Wonder Woman caused me to enter puberty early.
Ex that line is just bizarrely funny you need to make it yer sig lign.
Soupo and I made the same thing for dinner last night. Course I also had a tuna fish sammich for lunch today cause I’m the only one to eat it. I had fritos with mine.
Tonight I am going to celebrate Pancake Tuesday in the church parish hall tonight. Pancakes and sausages cooked up and served by the younguns of the church. All you can eat, including juice, coffee or soft drinks for the paltry sum of five bucks. A gastric delight! A true gourmet experience! Fine dining at its best. YUM!
Whenever we complained about dinner my mother would always say “Fine. You can make dinner tomorrow.” She meant it too. The complainer would be in the kitchen, along with help from mom (meaning she still did most of it) cooking away. She did manage to teach 4 boys and a girl to cook by doing this, so not to weird on her part.
Kallessa tell your mom a complete and total stranger on an internet message board said Happy Birthday. She’ll be thrilled.
I like my tuna fish sandwich on toast, with a slice of mozzarella cheese melted in it. And I like sweet pickle chopped up in it, but I’ll use relish if I have too, or a dill pickle. I’m not that picky. Which is pretty weird actually, since my Mother (Happy Birthday to Kallessa’s Mom, BTW) and my surviving brother are incredibly picky eaters. I never knew what broccoli was until I left home, for instance.
This is probably going to be a real sulky post so I’m just warning you ahead of time… skip me if you’re in a good mood.
So I signed on last night in the wee hours and popped over to my ebay watch page only to find out that I’d completely forgotten about this auction I wanted to bid-aarrggh! It was a lovely little teapot to replace one that was cracked in a cat-related incident, the first one I’d found in a month like I wanted and I forgot!
I pop over to the SDMB to soothe my ire and find Rue’s MMP, cool. Except the only thing I can contribute gets posted just before I get there. Well, I guess I’ll just chuck in a couple of musings anyway. I can’t post! AARRGGHH again!
I go back to ebay to browse for teapots but can’t find anything I want. It’ll probably be another month before I do. Drat it all.
I concede defeat and go to bed.
Anyway, here I am. Aren’t you glad?
Re the food issue-if my Mom cooked something I didn’t like I could either eat it anyway or hope for better luck tomorrow. I think with six kids it could get pretty ugly if she started catering to special demands. Besides, it encouraged the learning of basic cooking skills.
Mine aren’t too bad actually. I baked a cake for my brother’s birthday this week and it looked pretty good. It was liberally decorated with happy bananas and monkeys.
(Now watch, this post won’t go through either. Someone up there dislikes me.)
Hmpf! So, I arrive home after a long day of management analyzing sorta stuff and am ensconced comfortably on the sofa reading my newspaper. I am multi-tasking as I am also thinking that I will cook leftovers from last night for dinner, and need to start a load of laundry, and make sure the Tater chilluns have down their homework.
Then…bom.bom.bom bom…that dang Quizno’s commercial comes on the T.V.
“Ooh, can we PLEEEEEAAAAASE have Quizno’s mom? I’ll pay!” Nope, says I, we’re going to have leftovers! Mr. Taters pipes up with unwanted input, “I think it sounds good too!”
“Well” says I, “then you can just mosey on down there yourself and pick it up. I just got home for cripes sake!”
“You just have to slide your shoes on” says Mr. Taters.
To which I reply, “You just have to slip a shirt and shoes on”
“But, but, I’m STEEEEENKY from working out,” he wails.
“Wash your pits then and hop on down to Quiznos”, I reply.
Well, I’m STILL sitting here waiting for Quiznos and HE is on the other 'puter playing a game.
Gritting teeth now…I…WILL…NOT…GIVE…IN!
I’m making leftovers and they can likes it or lumps it.
Ah, thank you Taters for reminding me why I love living alone.
So, is everyone repenting from all the Mardi Gras sinning they did last night? I took full advantage of the Fat Tuesday festivities and laid under a blanket reading a book all evening.
I spent an exciting evening doing 3 loads of laundry (2 more to go) and building a couple of meatloaves to take to my sweetie when I go visit him next week.
Had my fill of pancakes and sausages last night since it was “Pancake Tuesday.”
Today, I’m going to an Ash Wednesday service at noon so I can spend the rest of the day hearing people tell me I have dirt on my forehead. Ash Wednesday is a chock full o’ fun day!
You know, swampy, I guess I grew up in a part of the world that wasn’t very religious, because I knew NO ONE who went to Ash Wednesday services.
So the first Ash Wednesday I went to class at my Jesuit university, I wondered why the hell people were walking around with smudges on their foreheads! I’m such a sheltered little lamb.
Ah, the rite of passage for Catholic teenagers, getting zits in the form of a cross because you walked around all day with ashes on your forehead! I think the priests in my parrish waited for this sign before allowing kids to be confirmed (for those non-Catholics, this is when you become an adult in the eyes of the Church–plus it has some spiritual stuff, too).
My Mom celebrated her birthday by going to my sister’s house and having her favorite pizza–Canadian bacon and green peppers. She’s quite the party-girl! She said, “Thanks, swampy” once I explained that you weren’t some random stranger trying to lure me into a life of crime, but a good, albeit somewhat anonymous, friend.
I ignored Fat Tuesday and the only reason I had for noting Ash Wednesday was that it used to be the day Easter candy went on sale, so I could get my favorite candy that is only made at Easter (Hersey’s candy-coated chocolate eggs–yes, I know Cadbury’s makes them, too, but I like Hersey’s better). Now Easter candy goes on sale the day after Valentine’s Day regardless of when Easter is, so Ash Wednesday is for nought. I have already eaten my share of candy-coated eggs, but I’m going to keep eating them while they last. 'Cuz I’m a Celebrate, celebrate, dance to the music kind of girl.
I am not Catholic, so don’t do the whole Ash/Lent thingy. BUT I have been the New Orleans and thus have a hurricane glass full of beads and I didn’t even have to show the boobies for em. Before any of you thinking I have started drinking, the hurricane was a virgin, which means Ex obviously had not had his way with it.
But so that I can get some beads today, here is the flash.
|.| |.| -->Shape is cause I had my yearly mammogram
Kallessa please tell your mom that she is most entirely welcome. Ya might also wanna mention that I’m from the south and that’s why I talk like that.
NE Texan Gopher Soup Flambe is mighty good eating, but make sure to use fresh Gopher. The frozen kind just won’t flame up when you put the aceteylene torch to it.
You don’t have to be Catholic to do the Ash/Lent thing, Deb. I’m thoroughly Protestant and my church does it, although I’m not this year. I wasn’t paying enough attention and it kind of sneaked up on me, so I haven’t given it any thought.
That, and I have a tendancy to use Lent for a jump-start on my diet, which is not really the point.
And I’ve never been to N’Orleans, and have therefore never flashed anyone for beads. So I guess you guys will be the first! ( * )( * )
I worked yesterday, no fun for me. But I did make pancakes later.
I’ve actually still got some beads from Mardi Gras many years ago. However they were given to me by my Blood Bank professor in school. She’d been to New Orleans during the festivities, ostensibly attending a BB convention. Yea right.
It’s nice to see you take your health seriously Deb. But your poor boobies… if you need someone to “fluff them up for you” I’m sure it wouldn’t be hard to find volunteers. (No I’m not flirting. Really. This is just a service I provide.)
It would be… not “ironic”… “poetic” maybe… I dunno, I’ve been having trouble with those pesky “word” things lately. Remembering which ones mean what and when to use them. And not even because I’ve been drinking. But a Virgin Hurricane? Eesh. But Pancake Day would be THE day to get the boobs checked out. Even if it means fewer beads.
While I’m sorry you had to work Dwyrkins, at least you had something to post. Like we need repetition in these things. It’s not like we want the same thing repeated over and over. I mean this is the MMP, everything should be new every time. I’m sorry you had to work.
Quit giving out my cooking secrets Swampy. Or else.
(Pretty much the “or else” is: Quit giving out my cooking tips or else you’ll keep giving out my cooking tips. Like I could stay mad at you. Ya big lug.)
