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Bum Water Stew

September 12, 2010

Last night, I was bathing my 3.5 year old darling, eldest twin daughter.  Let’s call her “The responsible twin” for this blog’s purposes.  Anyway, I left the responsible one for a few moments to check on the “others”.

When I came back she said, “Mommy, you have stars in your eyes.”  (isn’t she sweet?)  “I made you somethin’.”

“Oh really sugar pea?  What is it?”

She presented me with a washcloth covered, bathwater filled, plastic cup.

“Here you go.   It’s fresh bum water stew”.

I laughed until I cried.  Sometimes kids are worth all the trouble.  Sometimes

(I don’t want you to think I have lost my somewhat crusty & complaining mommy exterior.)


Preparation meets opportunity

September 12, 2010

Years ago, I went on a drive with my vivacious Grandma.  I had lived with her for a few years and this was not an uncommon practice.

We slowly drove  around our neighborhood in her baby blue Crown Victoria and paused if a neighbor was outside.    “Hello oh, ahem, HELLO!”

Once she had their attention, Grandma would talk about the beautiful day and their flowers and darling children.  Oh and she made sure to mention her lovely grand daughter in the car if they had a “single” son or grandson.   It was painfully embarrassing  but ahh… good times. (I was so lucky to have a grandmother who loved her kin.  Really, she always told us how beautiful and talented and sweet we all were… even if it was a stretch.)

On this particular visit around Gilbert’s finest neighborhood, (at the time),  grandma slammed on her brakes in the middle of the street.

I thought, ” What in the Sam Hell?”  (Why Sam?  I am not sure, that’s just the way I was taught to cuss.)

“Gold”,  Grandma said.


She popped open the trunk and rushed out of the car, her eyes twinkling and anxious.  I wasn’t sure what was going on until I saw her come around the front of the car with a shovel.    Right there in her matching Moo Moo and Birkenstocks, dripping in diamond and gold jewelry, my grandma started scooping horse poopie into a plastic bag.

“Gold” for her roses.


Remind me later to tell you about how she went from being a wildly adoring, (perhaps a smidgen annoying), fan of  Mr. Danny Ainge’s to well loved friend.

One word.   Persistence.

Well, I may have given away the story.  I guess I won’t tell it later….


September 10, 2010

Last night, I celebrated one of my oldest.. ahem… dearest friend’s birthday at Oregano’s.  We sat outside and enjoyed the twinkly lights, cool breeze and retro jazz sounds while chatting to our hearts content.  (We soon found the “cool breeze” was not delivered by nature but by a huge fan/ac unit near us.  It had the same effect but is it too much to ask for this sun stricken town to cool down at night?)  Pic to arrive soon.