Famous last words

My mom is a really good cook. She can put together 6 course meals or whip up fish en papillote. She makes excellent gumbo, amazing grillades and grits, and has mastered the art of producing fluffy matzoh balls. She is the queen of her kitchen. While my mom enjoys spending time in the kitchen, she does not like baking. Unfortunately for her, however, a tradition started decades ago when she baked an award winning cheesecake for one of my dad's customers around the holidays. I am almost certain that if she could time travel, she would go back to that December, put some cookies in a tin, and be done with it. But alas, her fate was sealed by that cheesecake.

Now this is not any ordinary cheesecake (or so I've been told- I don't know, I don't like cheesecake). People go nuts over this cheesecake. Back in the 60s, my Grandmother would sell these cheesecakes at fundraisers for $20. That's the equivalent of over $100 today. For a cheesecake. Cream cheese and sugar. And eggs and butter. My Grandmother did not give my mom the recipe until she and my dad were happily married. Oh yeah- it's that good. (Or so they say).

Throughout the years, my mom saw the list of loyal customers who were to receive cheesecakes grow. The once coveted family recipe became the cornerstone of our holiday kitchen activity as we would churn out literally 12-15 cheesecakes every December. My mom and I developed our own assembly line of crust making, egg separating, and flour measuring.

In recent years, things have changed and now only the very select few get a cheesecake. This year some of those select few included my coworkers. I went home one weekend to partake in the cream cheese sweat factory and to have my mom's support while putting together my own cheesecakes. Since the kitchen is HER room and she has made a gazillion cheesecakes over the course of time, she had an overly watchful eye on my doings. She was particularly attentive when I began assembling her Cuisinart Elite Food Processor (insert awe here) and I finally snapped when she told my dad just to grind the cookies for me.

"MOM- I HAVE TWO DEGREES----- I AM CERTAIN I CAN FIGURE THIS OUT."

She put her hands on her hips, raised one eyebrow and hesitantly relinquished some of the kitchen power.

I dramatically sighed and turned to back to the food processor. I put the cookies in and mashed the button. Nothing. I shifted the top and tried again. Nothing. I started getting nervous at the thought of replacing the expensive machine that magically broke when I touched it when I realized it wasn't plugged in.

I tried to play it cool and plug it in without anyone noticing. But my parents saw. Oh yeah- they noticed.

Two degrees.

But neither in cheesecake making.Or how to plug stuff in.

CMMS

Recently, I had to visit a city I had never been to before for work. I was trying to figure out how much time it would take me to get there and exactly where I needed to go once I arrived. My mom had been there before and started giving me instructions. Very specific instructions- that included gas stations and a Burger King as landmarks. I interrupted her to tell her I was just going to use my Iphone and she didn't need to keep explaining.

She kept explaining. I just let her finish. Once she was done, she proudly said "See- you don't need your Iphone at all. You have your mother."

One small step for Momma, one large step for all the omniscient mothers out there that have always been able to guide their kids, decades before those godforsaken Iphones came out. If only we could use them to make calls.

That would just be awkward....

Crap My Mom Says, Part Dos

One time Anne, Dan's sister (get all of your rhyme jokes out now), came over to our house for something. My mom was the only one there at that point. As Anne let herself into my house, my mom, who was hanging out on my couch, was caught off guard.
Mom: Who's there!?
Anne: Just me, sorry- I am just coming over for a little bit.
Mom: Oh- yeah- that's fine. I just don't have any pants on.
*Remains on couch watching TV.*

While my coworker was on her honeymoon, I volunteered to "pet sit" her leopard spotted gecko, Karl. My mom was in town on a night that I had to go feed Karl, and I convinced her to come with me. I threw his mealworms into his terrarium and excitedly stood there, waiting for him to come do his lizard thing and sneak up on them all slow like and then WHAM eat an unsuspecting worm.
Mom: What are you doing? You fed him, let's go.
Me: Wait a few minutes. Don't you want to see him eat one? It's awesome.
A few minutes seconds pass.
Karl does nothing.
Mom: This is the dumbest pet I have ever seen. Let's go.
Me: Come on, wait a few more moments.
Mom: No, I have so much better shit I could be doing.
Me: Like what?
Mom: ANYTHING other than watching some stupid lizard. Let's go.
Me (defeated): Alright... Bye Karl...

During a family trip to the beach, my parents and I went to eat at McGuire's- the best Irish restaurant in the Redneck Riviera! One of my many talents includes being able to find the biggest, sweetest, most potent drink on any menu and our trip to McGuire's allowed me to show off my skill by ordering an "Irish Wake" (please see below).

My parents must be so proud of me. No, seriously- they must be because
they are the ones who took the picture.

Needless to say, after one Irish Wake, I was feeling pretty good and I ordered one "to go." I put it in the console in the front seat on the way home and planned on finishing it at the condo. Well, my eyes were much bigger than my liver that night and I barely made it a few sips into my second drink. The next morning, I sadly poured out my bad decision only to find a hair clip in the bottom of the jar. And I am talking a serious hair clip.
Me: Gags audibly.
Parents: What?
Me: What the fuck!? Look at what was in my drink. That is disgusting! Do you think that the waitress did that!? I am disgusted. Why would anyone put that in someones drink!?
Parents walk over to the sink.
Mom: Ohhhh- that's where my clip went. I took it off in the car last night and put it down but then couldn't find it. I guess I put it in your drink.
*Picks it up and fixes her hair.*

Fish are people too...

Well, kind of.

If you haven't noticed, I am quite the animal lover. I come by it honestly- from both my mom and my dad. One of the family friends always says that if she is reincarnated, she wants to come back as one of  my family's pets. They have it good. Even the fish.

When I was a junior in college, I hit a little bit of a low point and decided that I needed something to cheer me up. My friend, KTO, and I were at Wal Mart when we found the solution. Bettas! Almost simultaneously, we picked out our fish and had the same exact thought "I shall name you ------ and you will be the best Betta ever." Well, I don't really know if that is what she thought, but since she doesn't have her own blog, we won't ever find out.
 

My fish was Levi the Leviathan (swimming in the sea of Galilee... glub glub glub) and hers was Moto.

Little did I know Levi the Leviathan was about to teach me a big ass life lesson. When you are depressed, buying a fish will not fix anything. It only makes things worse. Especially if they are an anorexic fish and your roommate's fish is a huge fatty. Katie and I would feed our fish at the same time and you could hear Moto chomping down on his fish niblet from the next room over. Levi, on the other hand, would suck in a pellet and then, in a French accent, spit it out and say "peh... you call this food?" I hated him and his stupid fish guts.

At some point, I tired of my Betta and passed it on to my mother. She says she can't remember what happened to him, but I am pretty sure he was given a funeral at sea... before his time.

I don't know what happened to Moto either, but at some point KTO purchased another Betta, whom she named "Blech." Her reasoning was that she would never have another fish as good as Moto, so why even try. Blech didn't wait around for Levi's fate. He went ahead and did the job himself by jumping out of his bowl. I would too, if my owner named me Blech.

I reestablished my relationship with the fish world last December. Around Christmas, my mother made the mistake of sending me to PetCo with her credit card. I purchased what was on her list, but also came home with two Bettas. One for me and one for her. My parents' cats immediately tried to befriend the fish:

As you can see, Coconut was incredibly friendly. She was just trying to say 'hello':

Rastus, on the other hand, was just a little thirsty. I mean, can't a cat catch a break?

My mother laughed at the inter species interactions for about thirty minutes straight and then immediately got over the idea of owning a fish. She selected her fish (the red one) and walked to the neighbors house. She let herself in and told the two girls that lived there (ages six and nine) "look at what I got y'all for Christmas!" This was immediately met by squeals of delight and their mom looking at my mother with a real sarcastic "Thanks, Cathy." (Sorry, Sherry...)

While my mom's run of owning a fish lasted less than an hour, my fish, Frederick, made it back to New Orleans, where he is alive and well.

No fish were hurt in the writing of this blog.****


****Except for these:

Mmmm mmm KTO says. Gimme that fish/seaweed.

Mmmm Mmmm some bigger fish says. I already got your fish.
Mmmmm Mmmm I say. I like Modelo.

Crap My Mom Says

Disclaimers: 
1. I am not trying to rip off the amazing blog posts that turned into an amazing book and a mediocre television show. I just have a mom that gives me some great material.
 2. I love my mom. She is smart as shit and has always been supportive. She is just a shoot from the hip, tell it like it is kind of girl. It's where I get it from. But I am more refined. Kind of.



Me: Momma, I just don't know what to do about the weight gain. It is so frustrating. I can't do anything to lose it.
Mom: Well how much do you weigh?
Me: 1**
Mom: God- that is how much I weighed when I was six months pregnant with you.


Mom: *Farts* (in front of my BFF Katie O)
Me: Momma- I know you have known Katie O for a long time, but you can't just go farting in front of her like it is no big deal.
Mom: What!? I was trying to burp anyway.
Ten minutes pass...
Mom: *Burps*
Katie O: What-- were you trying to fart that time?

At a crowded place with good family friend, Wendy L.
Mom: *Says something loudly that is incredibly inappropriate about someone sitting nearby*
Wendy L: Jesus Christ, Cathy! Just because you are deaf doesn't mean everyone else is.
Mom: *Shrugs*

During my freshman year, a hurricane was in the gulf and school closed for a few days. I came home with a car load of dorm mates as refugees. It was the second week of school and I didn't know these people that well. One of the girls went upstairs to take a bath (a luxury you cannot get in a dorm- especially not in something like my parent's amazingly large porcelain beauty).
Girl comes downstairs after her bath.
Mom: Uhhhh-huhhhhhhh. I bet your vagina just feels great now! Especially after nothing but showers. I hate showers.

During another trip home freshman year, I was trying to find clothes to bring back with me. I had gained my freshman fifteen and my rummage through high school clothes was not going very well. After squeezing on a blue jean skirt- I stepped out of my closet to show my mom.
Mom: Ha! You look like a stuffed sausage!

After many shopping trips. I proudly show my mom my new purchase.
Me: I love it! I am so excited to wear it. Do you like it?
Mom: No. *Goes back to reading/computer/watching TV*




After letting her know that I had just blogged about her.....
Me: Mom, what did you think about that blog post I wrote about you?
Mom: I don't remember saying a lot of that, but it is really funny that I did.