Dear Diary – Week 11

Tags

birds, bras, family, holiday, humour, shopping

Dear Diary – Youngest Son announced one year, as Mother’s Day approached, that I shouldn’t expect to get a Mother-Of-The-Year Award. His reason? I told gross stories. Not all boys like stories with bathroom references, fart noises, and vomit jokes. Noted.

But I still tell them.

I may never deserve a Mother of the Year Award, but this past Friday deserved a nomination. I braved heavy-ish snow and slippery, snow-covered roads to get Youngest Son to Youth in a neighbouring town.

He was the only kid to show up.

Most of the kids can walk to the church.

As I mom, I constantly worry about the safety of my children.
Especially the one who grunts and rolls his eyes at me.

Unknown

Dear Diary – A friend solved the problem of Angus peeing when he gets cozy in my lap: doggy pee pads! We enjoyed a long Sunday afternoon cuddle.

We’ve discussed making this a daily thing.

Dear Diary – I ran away from home, but this year it’s not because I was having a mental breakdown. It’s March Break!

On Monday afternoon, Mom and I scraped the mud off our boots and “headed to town”. My sewing machine needed a tune-up because it has been skipping stitches. Of course we took advantage of the opportunity to shop!

It’s time to end the bi-monthly Saturday night “walk of shame” as I struggle to find a respectable and flattering outfit fit for Sunday morning at the front. I didn’t purchase clothes online during the shutdown, with the exception of my k’nix bra, which proved to be a disaster. And the clothes I do own shrunk in the closet!

I tried, dear diary. Truly. But came home empty-handed. We’ll…not entirely. I bought another pair of leggings, navy with elephants, to wear at home! They’re comfy.

I tried on several tops and dresses but most of them were too big, too small, or too wrong on so many levels.

I almost needed the sales clerk to cut me out!

I found one blouse I really liked but it blended with my skin and from a distance, I looked naked. It might be a popular look at the Oscars, but it’s not the look for me.

You’re welcome, world.

I drowned my sorrows in tea and split a sticky doughnut with Mom before driving home in the snow. Snow again.

It snowed during an afternoon game of Ticket to Ride. I lost.

It snowed during a McDonald’s run.

Despite the constant snow, there are no birds at Dad’s feeder. We thought it was because it’s a new feeder and fire engine red. An appropriate colour for a former fire fighter! Or maybe the birds are snubbing him because he cut down the adjacent, dead evergreen tree.

But I spotted the real culprit this week and I stalked him with Dad’s camera.

Once he realized I had spotted him, he took off, but like the birds, I’m not fooled. He’s out there, waiting to strike.

If he poops on my car, will all this snow wash it off?

Dear Diary – Family games night took a dark turn while dealing the cards. A rouge card sliced and blood splattered the walls! Just kidding! We had Auntie M over for homemade pizza and quesadillas, and to play games. Mom and I got pretty silly (although it doesn’t take much).

Dear Diary – Wednesday, the sun shone and if you stood in a sunny spot protected from the wind, it was dreamy! What wasn’t dreamy was facing my Wednesday errand: bra shopping!

In this world, not all women are created equal. In fact, over 90% of women report asymmetrical breasts. The other challenge arises when a woman doesn’t fit standard industry sizing. For example, my rib cage measurement is 4-6 inches smaller than where my cup size typically starts. Or as you age, a small-cupped lady will struggle to find an off-the-rack bra with a large rib band. Specialty shops provide “support” for the teeny or top-heavy, but isn’t readily affordable for all women.

Which is why I shop savvy (so I don’t have to sell a kidney on the black market), and take great care of my brassieres.

The nightmare started in Grade 4 and for years, I wore the wrong size. It meant decades of shallow breathing and constant adjusting as wires poked and elastic dug in. My shoulders bear permanent ridges where all the padding has worn away. As a kid, I wanted the same pretty, coloured, lacy confectionaries that my peers were wearing. I resented being strapped into white cotton, utilitarian over-the-shoulder-boulder holders that looked like torture instruments from the 1950’s. Just because I had curves! I was in my 30’s when a friend took me to a “proper place” for a fitting. There I purchased a bra that not only didn’t feel like a lead vest, but was pretty. I still went with practical white, but it had lace and satin. I felt like the Queen of Sheba!

Covid has not been kind to many of us. All those weeks humped up on the couch bingeing and binge-watching left its mark around my middle. Plus the elastic continued to stretch with each passing month. So it was time to bare all and have a proper fitting. The lady at the store was fantastic, putting me at ease and laughing with me, not at me. As a professional should.

I came away from the experience with my dignity still intact and excited to be swathed in fresh peach lace and checkered satin. I even splurged and bought one in navy too. My bank account took a slight dip, but once again, everything is up where it belongs. I can see my waist again. If I could jog, I would do so without worrying about giving myself a black eye.

Life is good!

Bra Size Fitting Chart

A = Almost Boobs
B = Barely Boobs
C = Can’t Complain
D = Dang
DD = Double Dang
E = Enormous
F = Fake
G = Get a Reduction
H = Help! I’ve fallen and can’t get up!

Dear Diary – Week 2 – 2023

Tags

dear diary, family, holiday, humour

Dear Diary – I took the boys for our annual shearing, and what a mop of hair on the floor when our favourite stylist was done! Youngest Son is scheduled for Grad photos mid-January…and I just wanted a change.

Now that my bangs are shorter and thinner, I can actually see myself in the mirror. I haven’t decided if I like it or not. It’s probably a good sign that the people who saw me this week noticed nothing! So at least it’s not worse than where I started.

A woman who cuts her hair is about to change her life.

Coco Chanel

Dear Diary – I finished Mom’s Gnome post-Christmas. Unfortunately, Little Gnome got into the pile of candy Eldest Son brought, and put himself in a candy coma.

Dear Diary – It’s a shame people don’t know how to spell; we’ve come to rely on “Spellcheck” too much. I’ll never forget one of my law teachers talking about an administrator who sent out “trail date notices” instead of “trial date notices” because she relied on Spellcheck.

Eldest Son received a new game, or rather an old one. It was, apparently, popular in the 1980’s but I had never heard of it: Airport. But whoever produced the game ought to have proofread the cards more carefully. I’m pretty sure Deijing and Cario are not countries.

I hate spelling errors so much. You mix up two letters and suddenly your post is urined.

Unknown

Dear Diary – There was a thing on Facebook that said the most popular song on your 23rd birthday will predict to your 2023!

I don’t like my song.

It’s too close to home given what September may (or may not) bring – the sudden and painful first step of Youngest Son leaving the nest for college or Uni.

Unless he doesn’t pass English, in which case, the nest may be full a little longer.

Either way, while it’s true that Youngest Son will always hold a special place in my heart and I love him dearly, the song also held dark and disturbing imagery of a suffocating “Smother Mother“.

We were as one, babe
For a moment in time
And it seemed everlasting
That you would always be mine
Now you want to be free
So I’m lettin’ you fly
‘Cause I know in my heart babe
Our love will never die

No you’ll always be a part of me
I’m part of you indefinitely
Boy don’t you know you can’t escape me
Oh darlin’ ’cause you’ll always be my baby
And we’ll linger on
Time can’t erase a feelin’ this strong
No way you’re never gonna shake me
Oh darlin’ cause you’ll always be my baby

Mariah Carey, Always Be My Baby

Dear Diary – I helped Mom with her quest in life to rid the house of extra crap downsize by bringing home a new piece of furniture. Well, it’s an old piece of furniture but new for me!

I was convinced it would have to wait until another trip to come home because I had all the crap luggage I had brought for the post-Christmas vacation at my folks, as well as the bin of crap stuff Eldest Son picked up for me at the house, because I forgot crap stuff.

Eldest Son was undeterred.

It was a proud Mommy Moment – I have taught my boys how to pack, like a game of Tetris. They not only safely installed the wash stand and buckled it in, but packed all the other stuff in too.

I was tossing the final things in the backseat when I noticed a black blob amongst a collection of fluffy, white circles on the underside of the stand. I blew on the blob…and it moved.

“There’s a spider on that washstand,” I announced. With panic rising in my voice, I also announced, “it’s alive and there are egg sacs. Someone’s got to kill it or get it out! NOW! … Dad?”.

Dad may have considered it “just a little guy” but I disagreed strongly. I stared at the black blob through the open car door as Eldest Son wrestled with the seatbelt, willing the spider to hang tight. “If you lose that spider, I’m not going home,” I declared, still staring. I stared right up until the stand was outside my car. Dad brushed off the spider and the fluff, which turned out to be just fluff and not babies. In my defence, I wasn’t getting close to confirm it.

Disaster averted, the furniture reinstated, I said my good-byes and headed home.

Eldest Son was driving separately and while we left at the same time, we had different stops to make on the way out of town.

We were nearly an hour into our drive when Eldest Son called to see where we were. Did we want to meet for a bite halfway?

Ah….yes!!

I could see his little blue car pulling into the service center as we pulled off the highway. We grabbed a bite. It was a lovely way to round out the holiday…time with my boys.

I wish I had taken a photo.

I watched his little blue car pull away and head for the highway while I pumped gas and I whispered blessings over him.

Now I’m back at home, trying to eliminate tissue paper sparkles and cracker crumbs from the carpet, pack up the decorations, and restore a sense of “normality” at home.

I haven’t been very successful.

Or terribly motivated!

Last night, I found the missing piece for the Swedish Angel Chimes, something I took from my grandparents’ box of decorations. My parents had one too and I remember watching the candles dance and listening to the angels chiming when I was little.

I lit the candles and just sat watching for awhile.

I felt sad and I finally figured out why.

It wasn’t so much because the season was over and I was packing all the pretty things away. It was because I miss the people who made that season special and magical.

I guess there was another truth in my 2023 song by Mariah:

No, you’ll always be a part of me
I’m part of you, indefinitely.

Dear 2023 Diary – Week 1

Tags

dear diary, family, holiday, humour

Dear Diary – I had a Snacksident. I snacksidentally ate the whole bag.

Dear Diary – I have decided that rather than tediously review all of 2022 with you at the beginning of this new year, I am going to review each month of 2022 at the beginning of each month of 2023. It will help me lower the bar to meet my comfortless expectations set the bar so I can aim for a better things!

We rang in the new year with our traditional pizza and games, but at Auntie M’s. She tried to luge down the front steps at my folks on Christmas night and was still pleasures of bruised internal organs and outer limbs. It was hard to part with Eldest Son but we did finish our Harry Potter marathon just in time.

It was about that time that I decided I was over winter. Covid restrictions were still in place. I had nowhere to go, or any desire to go!

People talk about Virtual School as a bad thing, but it made an extension to our Christmas holiday possible when Hubby was exposed to Covid. I took advantage of being out of the city but asking Dad to drive me to get my third Covid vaccination.

Soon after arriving home, 40-60 cm of snow dumped in a single day, closing some roads and schools. However, the kids didn’t get a “snow day” because there was virtual school! Hubby tried to blow it off the driveway but ended up with more on his face than on the yard.

Even the birds had some work to do.

My new K’nix body armour bra also arrived. After smothering and sweating, and nearly throwing out my back, I threw it in the corner of my room for a better another day.

Another day, I took Youngest Son, who despises having his photo taken, to have his photo taken for his new health card. Miraculously, we were in and out of the government office in less than 10 minutes. The line up at Tim Horton’s was much longer!

I learned a few new things: how to not get strangled by various wires and straps when leading worship, I should measure 5 times and cut once, and what it feels like to be scanned by aliens. I wonder if a bone scan device could be modified to 3D bodies. Of course, some of us would require more filament than others.

It took 3 tries but my bathroom scales gave me an answer I liked.

Finally, January 9 marked my 10 Year Blog-iversary! Who knew I had so little to say over so many years?

I tried to lean into the word “joy” last year, but circumstances in 2022 made that challenging. But I rarely back down from a challenge. Joy is more than laughter or a warm fuzzy feeling. It goes beyond happiness, excitement or satisfaction. Rather it is a gracious gift and a lasting state of the heart and mind that is fixed on God no matter the circumstances. His joy in me, then, became my source of strength…especially in those moments when I really wanted to cry, not laugh.

Dear Diary – This block of post-Christmas/post-New Year is one I look forward to all year long. Traditionally I get to just hang out with some of my favourite people: my folks and my kids. We eat too much, stay up too late, rib each other over games, and watch movies.

Youngest Son and I headed out Thursday evening to escape driving in heavy rain on Friday. But it drizzled all the way there. We didn’t let the gray sky dampen our spirits as we ushered in the New Year with dinner with Auntie M and a late night movie. Eldest Son decided to spend the evening with his girlfriend. Afterall, as much as he loves me, it’s nice to have a sweetheart to kiss at midnight. Like the darling he is, he called us shortly after midnight. We spent the next day awaiting his arrival and the party really began.

Eldest Son arrived Sunday evening, with a big bag of candy. One bag had giant gummy coke bottles. Eldest Son referred to them as “cow boogers”. I have to say – his description fit of the texture.

As part of our merriment, the boys and I lined up on the couch to watch my parents confer on the best way to reattach Mom’s hood to her coat. Eldest Son tried to record it but his phone didn’t cooperate. I caught the last 17 seconds, including Mom’s reaction when she found out we were recording her.

Someone on Facebook recently encouraged anyone who was reading, to record your loved ones laughing and joking in those impromptu moments that get forgotten over time. One of the things she misses most is her mother’s laugh, and her struggle to recall it only sharpens the pain in her heart.

Life as we know it, can change in an instant. And change will come. I want to capture and savour every moment I am blessed to share with my “peeps”. If not with my camera, then in the still frames of my mind.

Dear Diary – I was given a special piece of fabric for Christmas, one I specifically requested (and couldn’t justify buying myself). It’s blue with video game controllers all over it! While I have an idea what to make with it, I still posted a photo on Facebook to see if anyone had a better idea.

Someone innocently suggested a golf towel.

I never thought about needing to clean your balls before you play with them in public.

Dear Diary – Not every moment in this baby year has been filled with joviality. A special family member lost her husband suddenly and tragically on Christmas Eve. After the celebration of life service, my Aunt K and Mom’s friend came for tea. While I’ve read tea is a “drink which relieves thirst and dissipates grief”, I think it was the act of sitting and conversing together which felt like a soulful hug.

I wish we could do that more often.

Dear Diary – This year is a milestone birthday and I need to start thinking about how to celebrate. Eldest Son suggested a “smash room”. A smash room or rage room is a place where you can smash, hurl and destroy a variety of objects, like glassware or old electronics, to relieve stress or anger. Or just for fun!

That conversation led to another scintillating conversation:

Eldest Son mentioned a movie scene wherein a couple of friends started making out after a smash room session.

Which led to my comments about movie scenes where a couple starts making out after escaping death.

“Why?” I asked.

“Because stress makes you horny?” Eldest Son queried.

“No! It doesn’t!” I said. “It makes me want to go to Tim Horton’s”!

What or where would you do/go, Dear Diary?

That conversation meandered into another disturbing topic: Feet Pics.

Apparently there are folks who are excited by photos of feet. So I googled “what are feet pics” and my search yielded images of feet, as well as multiple websites sharing how to take good feet pics and how to sell feet pics. There are legitimate businesses looking for feet pics, not just people with feet fetishes.

I have wanted a job I can do at home.

It would certainly be a better career option than the one some stranger picked for me…when they used my cell phone on their website.

Dear Diary – New Year. New Haircut.

I’d like a viking haircut…I like this one from Game of Thrones.

But Mom says no.

People will stare. Make it worth their while.

Harry Winston

Dear Quarantine Diary – Week 52

Tags

Christmas, covid-19 diary, dear diary, family, holiday, humour

Dear Diary – Thursday evening I received a text from the School Board: Schools were closed on Friday due to the storm. Schools never close in the city. Buses are cancelled but, like the postman, any student within “walking distance” is expected to attend in wind, sleet, snow or hail! For both kids, walking distance has always been 20 minutes or more. It always seemed terribly fair that while my kids were expected to slog through knee-deep snow while the north wind peels their face off, the bus kids get to sleep until noon in cozy beds. I walked to school; it was the same for me.

The last I had heard, snow and possibly some freezing rain were coming our way. Crappy for being out in, but we live in Canada, and “crappy” is always synonymous with winter. I decided just to be thankful for the blessing of no class, and keep motoring on. Christmas was just around the corner and I had a chocolate swiss roll to bake for Hubby’s birthday.

Thursday evening, Youngest Son and I had rehearsal for the Christmas Eve service. He was being trained on camera and lights and I was singing Christmas carols. It was raining when we left home…and still raining when we started home. We were both in good spirits and feeling nibbly so I swung into the closest Tim’s to home. The driveway was blocked by cones but the lights were on and someone was inside. We sloshed through the icy water and rain to the front door, but the door was locked. I could see one employee inside, dumping honey dip doughnuts in the bin. “Noooo” I whimpered, but it was too late. Dejectedly we drove to the Shopper’s next door for chocolate.

It was not the same.

Dear Diary – It wasn’t a lot of snow but the wind made it appear so as it tossed and twisted it in every direction for hours. Hubby tried to clear the driveway at one point, but for every shovelful removed, he received three more in the face. I was very thankful I didn’t have to go out in it. I wonder how Santa feels about snow?

Dear Diary – We made it to Christmas Eve! It was bitter cold and the wind was still blowing pretty good, but the sun was shining. I spent the morning washing dishes, cooking potatoes for champ, and getting ready for the Christmas Eve service. Mom called in the morning to wish Hubby a happy birthday and to let me know that their area was in a state of emergency. Roads were closed including over 1,000 km of the main provincial highway. They even closed…the Malls!

It was unlikely there were going to make it to my house on Sunday.

We went for an Irish lunch at my brother-in-law’s place, minus my father-in-law who had decided to stay home before the first flake fell. And after a short visit, we headed to the church to prepare for the Christmas Eve service. The service was beautiful, and I had a first rate seat. As we sang the final carol, Silent Night, I watched flames light up, row by row, in the sanctuary (attached to candles. No one was torching the sanctuary), and all the stress of the last few weeks melted away.

It was snowing lightly when we left, the roads still partially covered where it continued to drift. We passed a few cars in a ditch. Someone was not having a peaceful night.

We had spaghetti and chocolate swiss roll birthday cake with homemade strawberry-cranberry jam for dinner. But not at the same time.

I talked to Mom again. They definitely weren’t coming on Sunday. I was disappointed but I would rather Christmas be postponed than something happen and I would grieve forever.

I talked to Eldest Son too. He only made it part-way to his girlfriend’s and got stuck in a drift. A tow truck driver got him unstuck, and later witnessed Eldest Son spinning out in a glorious display, like a rumba dancer, as he headed home, alone.

I went to bed missing some of my favourite people. I no longer cared about home-baked treats and a pretty table. I just wanted to be together.

I wonder if Mary missed her Mom too.

Dear Diary – It started out not feeling like Christmas. I didn’t know if Eldest Son was going to make it. Or his girlfriend and her sister. Or even my folks and Auntie M.

It was no longer snowing here. We slept in. I put on my plaid dress and soldiered on with my dinner plans.

I talked to Mom and found out they were going to “rescue” Auntie M and have their own celebration and Eldest Son arrived around lunchtime.

It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas
Soon the bells will start
And the thing that will make them ring
Is the carol that you sing right within your heart

Meredith Willson

We opened gifts. We basted the turkey and started the stuffing. We dished out pickles and 2 kinds of cranberry sauce. And we waited for Eldest Son’s girlfriend to arrive for dinner. We feasted and curled up in the candlelight to watch a movie. And I went to bed with anticipation. The rest of my family was going to make a break for it and try to come in the morning.

Dear Diary – All is calm. All is bright. Mom, Dad and Auntie M arrived for brunch on Boxing Day, and what a brunch: bagels and cream cheese, crackers and cheese, veggies and dip, mini quiche, homemade doughnuts, cookies and cake! I won’t ever need to eat again.

Dear Diary – I ate again. We did a re-run of the big turkey dinner. And with everyone’s help, dishes were soon washed and put away. Especially those dishes that are used only every 10 years. We opened gifts and played games, and swapped stories of Christmases past. Eldest Son’s girlfriend headed home, and soon after we all kissed good-night.

Dear Diary – I’m so thankful I had accidentally thawed all that meat and was forced to make soup, because that’s what we had for lunch. It was our final hurrah before Mom, Dad and Auntie M headed home. I have plans to join them in a few days. Then we connected with my father-in-law, who managed to dig out and head this way.

No one starved. The toilet didn’t give out until after everyone was gone. And my biggest take-away? I’m not ready to be in charge of the Christmas celebrations.

After years of travelling with kids and guinea pigs, I sometimes wondered what Christmas would look like at home. I don’t know if it’s because I’m older, and the kids are too, but Christmas has lost some of its magic. Seeing how much work goes into organizing the meals (I had 5 lists to keep me organized) and other assorted items (like t.p.), I much more understand and greatly appreciate all my Mom has undertaken year after year, to keep it magical. From the decorations to the pretty table, from the pickles to the turkey, it’s a stinking lot of work!!

The most magical part of all was being together. Once we were under the same roof, everything was alright.

How many of us, I wonder, can recall that childhood moment when we experienced happiness as a state of being. That single moment of untarnished joy. That moment when everything in our world, inside and out, was alright. Everything was alright. And then we became adults…

Professor Coreman, Hector and the Search for Happiness

Dear Diary – I just heard. There will be no Christmas next year. Santa got arrested on Christmas Eve.

Dear Diary – I’ll see you on the other side!

I’m heading to my folks for New Year’s Eve with Youngest Son. It’s possible Eldest Son will be coming too. Right now, he’s torn about where to spend New Year’s Eve. I told him we’ll take him whatever he decides, but it is one of the first big Eve’s he’s had a girl to kiss at midnight, instead of his ol’ ma! 😉

Welcome change, embrace adventure and make this new year one you’ll never forget!

Dear Quarantine Diary-Week 51

Tags

baking, Christmas, covid-19 diary, covid-19 humour, dear diary, family, food, holiday, humour, shopping

Dear Diary – We made the mistake of going to the Mall Saturday afternoon. The word “zoo” was fitting in some ways. The parking lot was quite full; cars circled like vultures hoping for a spot. Heaven help anyone who even considered swooping in to steal it. Cars crowded the entrances/exits to the lot from the main road and car horns punctuated like angry geese.

The tension in the air was palpable.

Inside, teenage girls in crop tops meandered in small herds like sheep, each one grasping bubble tea. They blocked entrances and aisles as they huddled around displays discussing the latest gossip. Shopping was a social event. A few shoppers reminded me of bison, as they bullied their way through the crowds, bumping and banging anyone in their path. While still others vacant-eyed with red, rosy cheeks and stooped shoulders from heavy winter clothing, and hands laden with coloured bags. They scanned shelves in desperation for one. more. gift before loping down the hallway, like injured rhinos.

We headed to the shoe department, where a weary grandfather nodded and grimaced like a hyena at his granddaughter as she fawned over little pink sequined shoes. Obviously the hordes were getting to him. Or he was tired of entertaining his granddaughter while Mom or Grandma shopped somewhere else.

Youngest Son needed winter boots. He’d outgrown his during Covid shutdowns, and since he had no need to go out (or even get dressed every day), we didn’t notice.

Youngest Son does not enjoy shopping, or crowds, or trying on boots. His feet are also a common size, so his options were limited. We found a pair. Then he tailed me like a baby duckling to the check out line at the back of the store, while Hubby went to look at winter jackets.

I should have known better.

It was the last Saturday before Christmas Eve day. The line was at least 30 people deep, some with carts piled high. Most only had a couple of items clutched to their chests. The only thing they all had in common were glazed eyes, like koala bears that have sampled too many eucalyptus leaves. We slowly shuffled forward like penguins in a line as the minutes ticked by. Slowly. Though dressed in a Fall jacket I soon too started to overheat.

Eventually Hubby came looking for us. He had been waiting “awhile” and thought maybe we miscommunicated where to meet. He texted me…but I forgot my cell phone at home.

After we purchased the boots, Youngest Son and I went to Indigo while Hubby ventured to the far end of the Mall to look at coats. Brave soul!

I purchased one of Hubby’s gifts when I purchased Youngest Son’s birthday present online. But I couldn’t find the gift. In the house. Anywhere. Online it said it was delivered with Youngest Son’s gift, but I had no recollection whether it had or not. The packaging box was still in the office but it was empty. I checked the bin where I hide gifts…for this very reason! I lose them. I didn’t really want to purchase another one because a) it’s not something you need two of, and b) I knew as soon as I did, I would find it.

I left the store empty-handed. It might have been in there, but my claustrophobia kicked in. Instead, Youngest Son tailed me as I slowly walked up and down the hallway waiting for Hubby. I desperately wanted to look at women’s clothing, but I couldn’t shake my duckling.

Once Hubby returned, after what seemed an eternity, I begged for one minute to pop into a store. My duckling followed me…closely followed by Hubby. I don’t know if you’ve ever shopped with 2 men who would rather be anywhere else, but it is not relaxing. I can flit through a store like a hummingbird when I’m short on time or I’m looking for something specific. Either they do or don’t have something that catches my eye. But with these two in tow, I was in and out of there like a hummingbird high on sugar syrup!

We made it to the car, although the guys had to wait for me. The number of predators circling the lot had doubled. So had the level of impatience. I was amazed we escaped in one piece. I was also thankful we had gone when we did, as hundreds of cars with Iranian flags and effigies, filled the main street in a peaceful protest. It was a good reminder that I live in a city of many cultures, and that we are blessed here in Canada in so many ways. We have much for which to be thankful as we gather with family and friends this season.

Dear Diary – I baked a beautiful pumpkin swiss roll for a Christmas party, which I did not attend.

My guys used the joke, “what’s brown and sticky?” Normally the answer would be: “A stick”. Their answer was “Mom’s log”. To which Hubby added, “and it has a nice swirl”.

After much discussion, I decided last minute that I didn’t want to risk getting Covid. I let the organizers know that I wasn’t coming BUT I would still deliver my dessert (and gift for the game) when I delivered Youngest Son at his party at the church. We were taking a chance there too, but after years of isolation, he needed to be there.

The plate (and my gift from the game) was returned on Sunday and it was empty. I guess it was good! 🙂

Now I have to make a chocolate one for Hubby’s birthday. He was born on Christmas Eve…so double the shopping. Just not this close to Christmas!

Dear Diary – Since Hubby is home all week on vacation, he’s been picking up Youngest Son after class. Yesterday I didn’t go with him because I was making our cranberry sauce (and measuring out the ingredients for the spicy cranberry sauce). I went ahead and made Kraft Dinner for lunch. Hubby surprised me by bringing home Wendy’s fries. Youngest Son piled both in a bowl. His reasoning? They both get topped with ketchup!

Dear Diary – I gave Hubby a deadline: clear the dining room table by 9 a.m. Friday morning. It’s covered in boxes and piles of paper and binders left from the months he worked at home. Post-Covid, his office also moved locations so he has less space for his stuff, which is why it’s still living here. But I need my dining table for Christmas dinner.

So far, he has emptied many binders but most of the paper has to be shredded. We have a shredder, also in the dining room, but it can only handle 1 sheet of paper at a time…and it overheats after about 20. Then it won’t work for an hour. We have enough paper to last all next year. Our home is small, our possessions meager, and at this point, I’m not sure the deadline will be met, but on the plus side, our kids will inherit a lifetime supply of paper clips.

Dear Diary – Hubby took his car to the dealership to get some work done this morning. He texted that the mechanics saw the mouse in his air filter. The mouse moved in during the months and months that Hubby was working from home during Covid. It left evidence of his presence last Spring in shredded napkins on the floor, a gnawed granola bar in the glove box, and poop in the coffee holder. With no new evidence we had assumed he moved out when summer temperatures soared.

I asked him if it was alive. He replied that “apparently there was some yelling in the shop”. Did that mean they got it? He didn’t know. I told him to find out. I might recoil if I encountered a snake, but with a mouse, I scream and flail like an inflatable windsock guy before I run away. I’m so thankful it never ran under my feet when I was driving. I have driven with spiders in the car, even stopping at a stop sign once and evacuating the car, much to the surprise of the driver behind me. I shudder to think what would happen with a mouse.

Apparently the mouse is now living in the car bay at the dealership. It ran away. The mechanics found a huge nest, as well as a dead mouse in the air filter. Perhaps there’d been a game of thrones scenario under the hood and dead mouse was a trophy? We’ll never know. The car’s been sprayed with mouse repellent, but I plan to continue avoiding Hubby’s car as much as possible. One can never be too careful!

The early bird gets the worm, but the second mouse gets the cheese.

Unknown

Dear Diary – This week has been all about food! With Christmas counting down and an edited baking wish list, I baked sour dough muffins with craisins soaked in rum. My father birthed the sour dough starter during the pandemic and he continues to supply bread, muffins and pancakes from it. He shared some with me a few months ago and I have kept it alive despite not using it as regularly as I should or feeding it properly. Between my last bake and this week, it has doubled in size inside the fridge. I’ve nicknamed it Frankenstein.

I baked more shortbread cookies…because we are all the others. Low on time, I opted not to decorate them. I used sprinkles instead. As they cooled, I remembered…I still have earl grey glaze in the fridge.

I made Salvation doughnuts yesterday, something I remember making with my Mom and grandparents, and something I have done with my kids. This recipe was used by Salvation Army volunteers in abandoned buildings near the front lines during World War I. They hoped to improve the morale of the soldiers far from home. In less than ideal conditions, helmets were sometimes used to hold the oil for frying. I used my Mom’s deep fryer instead.

I had to wait until Hubby got home. I couldn’t get the bottle of oil open. The lid just spun and spun. He tried that too…until he noticed…it just popped off.

Some would say love is the key. I say…it’s this:

Nana’s thimble!

Dear Diary – Christmas is only 3 sleeps away, and I hear Santa has the Blues.

Be kind to him and have a Merry Christmas!

Chocolate Babka

Tags

baking, bread, Christmas, food, holiday, humour

I often hear devoted bakers say cheesy things like “the secret ingredient is love”.

“With enough butter, anything is good,” said Julia Child, and I agree.

Especially when I’m the baker.

Certainly there is joy in making something for someone special, and a real sense of accomplishment when they enjoy it (and it turns out right – that’s when I really experience joy). Baking can also have a real zen effect on some individuals and help them cope with stress or mental illness. The rest of us end up breaking down and sobbing on the floor like a toddler, with brown paste on our faces and flour on our clothes. So why do I do it? I have yet to answer that question.

With Christmas morning alarmingly close, and the foreknowledge that there will be more bodies in my house than my house can comfortably accommodate (but we’re family right?), I’m editing my baking “wish list” and focusing on the items that I most want to provide (and a few that Eldest Son requested…most of his favs are non-bake so much, much easier). That included chocolate babka.

I first attempted this sweet, braided bread or cake last year. It originated in the Jewish communities of Poland and Ukraine. It literally translates as “grandmother” in Polish. Made with yeast and enriched with loads of butter, it is truly a labour of love. Or at least serious “like” because making it is a commitment! It takes 2 days.

Is it worth it? Yes. Yes it is!

Step one was making the actual dough and I used my mixer and dough hook. Normally, I opt for kneading by hand, but this time a dough hook is my best friend. Why? Because the dough is super sticky. Once it’s on your hands, it will require intense scrubbing, the kind your grandma invoked when she washed your face after dinner, leaving your skin burning and red.

Judging how long to mix the dough required some intuition, something that long been established is not my strong suit. The recipe simply said “until the comes away from the bowl” about 10 minutes. Having made bread in the past, I know what that looks like, but Hubby challenged my abilities, creating doubt. He’s not the bad guy, however, There is such much butter that the dough never really “comes away”. In fact, when you scrape the sides of your mixer bowl, the dough just kind of smears like…well butter. Eventually I made the call. I oiled it, wrapped it in plastic wrap and tucked it in the fridge for the night.

Sunday afternoon, I hesitatingly pulled it out. As it started to warm up, I set about making the filling.

The first task was chopping my bittersweet chocolate…8 ounces of it! Again, this recipe said to chop it medium fine, which led to a family discussion about what constituted medium. I knew it was going inside the dough, so I wanted it to be at least as small as my fingernail. But I wasn’t the one chopping, so we compromised and I moved on the second task: The Chocolate Mixture.

The filling is a mixture of sugar, cocoa, cinnamon and more butter. I decided to use my hand mixer because my stand mixer bowl was in a pile by the sink waiting to be washed, the edge cemented in in yellow dough. Within seconds, I was enveloped in a brown cocoa cloud. On the plus side, my hair now smelled like cinnamon, but my lungs were complaining. Even though the butter had been sitting on the counter for more than 24 hours, it was still firm. Using my creativity, I carefully draped a hand towel around 3/4 of the bowl and prayed that the towel wouldn’t mix with the beaters, and that the butter would mix with everything else.

Rolling out the dough went smoothly and I started to feel optimistic once again. It’s also a great upper body workout.

Sure my rectangle wasn’t quite a perfect rectangle, but it was close. This wasn’t baseball. It was more like horseshoes or handgrenades.

Now for the fun part – spreading my chocolate mixture on my dough. It proved to be both a difficult and messy task because the dough was super soft. It was kind of like trying to spreading diaper cream on a squirming toddler. Funny I should mention toddler, as the chocolate mixture was firm yet sticky, and brown like poo. I started having flashbacks, and not good ones.

I sprinkled my questionable medium blocks of chocolate, rolled that dough and stuck it in the freezer. Unlike last year, they looked like squat and rotund, but it was too late.

I preheated my oven. I lined with loaf pans with silicone mats…because I was too lazy to carefully cut parchment paper to fit.

And after 15 minutes, I sliced my beautiful babies in two and twisted them together. Hubby helped me shove manhandle slide the maimed loaves in the pans and I tucked them into the oven to become soft, flaky deliciousness.

I should have read the instructions more carefully. Something that should be posted in large red letters in my kitchen. Once the loaves were baked (Yes Hubby, I was sure), I pulled them out to cool on the rack. Mistake! They started to fall apart. They’re supposed to cool in the pan for awhile before poking them and pouring over a sugar syrup. Instead I poked and syruped on the rack, with a cookie sheet underneath for drips. I can learn from my mistakes!

As soon as they were cool and before the wolves descended, I wrapped my babkas and they are now sleeping with the fish sticks. The kitchen is a disaster. There’s flour, chocolate, cocoa and cinnamon on every surface, and I may never remove the cement from my mixing bowls. My cookie sheet is covered in a pool of sugar and I have to bake more shortbread cookies because they’re all gone.

But I can proudly display my striped babka turds on the dining table, assuming all of Hubby’s boxes are removed, at Boxing Day brunch. I’m sure it tastes better than it looks!

It will go great with a well-deserved cup of tea!

Happy Monday!

Dear Quarantine Diary – Week 49

Tags

covid-19 diary, covid-19 humour, dear diary, family, holiday, humour

Dear Diary – I was comfortably settled on the couch Friday morning, happy that I didn’t have to go anywhere, when I heard my cell phone ringing. Upstairs! I thought it was in my purse. I didn’t hustle because I figured it was just a telemarketer. But it wasn’t. It was the grocery store about my order…which I was supposed to be picking up in the next 2 minutes. I had ordered groceries online the day before, but I thought I had reserved a 9 a.m. slot for Monday because I was heading to my folks on Monday and I thought I should feed my family.

As I pulled on my sneakers, listening to my voicemail, I also noticed I had 5 text messages, including one from a friend looking for a ride home from the hospital! I got my groceries; she still hasn’t gotten out. As the shadows of the day grew, so did her list of things I needed to bring her. The only problem was the only person with a key to her apartment wouldn’t be back in town until after 8.

By the time 8 arrived, I was exhausted. It was dark, cold, and drizzling outside (as well as inside my heart) when I walked into her building. I almost didn’t make. One of the senior residents who felt he deserved the entire empty parking lot to circle his wagon before pulling into his parking space, and nearly ran me over. I was okay with visiting my friend, but I didn’t relish being her roommate!

Hospital parking is never straightforward, nor the rates low. After delivering my friend’s bag, pillow and hot coffee, I trudged behind the porter taking her to her room. There were no covid checklists to tick off or hoops to jump through, even though I was entering an overflowing Emergency Room.

It was almost 10 before I headed out into the drizzle again. The ticket machine refused to take my ticket, instead sticking it back at me like it was sticking out its tongue. I maneuvered my car to try the other exit, and after several attempts (and a few punctuated threats), my ticket was accepted and I was permitted to escape leave.

However, the exit didn’t allow a left turn, forcing me to drive west away from home. I pulled into the first street 2 blocks away, and began a tiring suburban drive in a warren of streets that serpentined endlessly. I was beginning to despair that I wouldn’t be crawling under the covers until sunrise when I passed the park and finally knew where I was!

By the time I got home, I wanted a drink…of cranberry gingerale. I vowed that I would not leave the house on Saturday.

It was not meant to be. My friend had another wish list, but this time, I didn’t drive. I asked Hubby to drop me off and spare me another neighbourhood tour. 😉

Dear Diary – Recent stats said my post was shared to 441 email subscribers and 161 social followers. If this is possible, why do I only get, on average, one comment a week? 🙂

Dear Diary – Someone reminded me that I have a beautiful life. And they’re right.

This week the father of Eldest Son’s best friend, S.’ passed away after a long battle with cancer. He lived longer than expected which meant they had one more Easter, one more Thanksgiving, and many more beautiful days. I’m sure they weren’t all weren’t easy. Eldest Son, L. and S. have been like a family since high school, and together these 2 girls have been caring for Dad while Mom is at work. L. lost her father just over a year ago. I admire these brave young women who have already known such deep sorrow and they are on my heart.

The path I’ve taken may not have been the one I dreamed about when I played with Barbie (I still haven’t walked a Red Carpet). Sure, instead of a castle, I live in a semi-detached house. Prince Charming is an engineer who doesn’t ride a white horse, but he’s no frog. I am blessed with princes. I have woken up on Christmas morning under my parents’ roof for almost 50 years (with the exception of 2020 when we celebrated in a service center parking lot), and I will celebrate with them this year too. At my house. But all of these things, and so much more, has given me a life filled with love and laughter (a lot of it with me and at me), and that is what makes it so beautiful.

I sustain myself with the love of my family.

Maya Angelou

Dear Diary – The last two days have been crazy. I headed to my folks where I baked a crunchy mess, stole borrowed a Christmas tree from church, and saved a life. I took my best friends and partners in crime along for the ride!

I arrived Monday afternoon to an empty house. The guy installing my parents’ new carpet got sick and the work’s been postponed, so everything in the living room and hall had shuffled, except 3 chairs lined up in front of the t.v. The couch and dining table are now sharing a space; the table covered in Mom’s good china from the china cabinet. The sideboard and the t.v. stand are in my bedroom, but they created a crooked maze almost as wide as me to get to the bed. And a flashlight.

I lost the flashlight by the second night.

I attended a birthday party with my Mom for a lovely lady I have never met. I was promised cake.

On Tuesday, Mom and I muttered in our separate corners of the kitchen while we baked our own cookies. The couch made an excellent surface for spreading out baking utensils, cookie cutters and when you got tired, a soft place to rest. My sugar cookies kept flaking as I rolled them out and they baked crunchy. It wasn’t until the middle of the night that I realized I had forgotten the milk.

Suddenly, Mom gasped and covered her hand with her mouth. “There’s a squirrel drowning in the pool”.

Normally, this would be a “Dad” job, but Dad wasn’t home. I sprang into action.

In advance of the new carpet, Dad had been pulling up the carpet and adding screws to the floor so there was an assortment of tools in the living room. I was hoping for a bucket, but with none in sight, I grabbed the white plastic bowl on the couch and crawled over the back. I ran to the gate, shoved the bbq out of the way, and scrabbled with the lock. I couldn’t see any movement n the water, not even ripples on the surface.

I grabbed the ladder from the side and shoved it into the black water. The squirrel finally surfaced but on the far side of the pool. It was obvious he was exhausted and we didn’t have much time. I ran up the stairs and across the deck, with the bowl still in my hand. I also grabbed a step stool and hopped down the stairs.

My feet were soaking wet by the time I got to the pool. “Where is he?” I called to Mom watching from above, as I dropped the stoll and climbed up. He was just coming up for air when I reached the bowl out to him and he turned to me. I scooped him out and tried to set the bowl on the ground, but still panicked, the squirrel tipped out. Unhurt but still terrified, he started to crawl under the deck into a pile of debris. Mom threw down a dry towel and I did my best to wrap it around him, but I couldn’t pick him up. Once I knew he was safe, I stepped away so he could calm down. He didn’t know I wasn’t going to hurt him.

I returned a few minutes later to see how he was, and I tucked the towel around his little body again. He purred and closed his eyes to sleep. Sadly, when I went back later, he had died in his sleep. I felt terrible.

On Wednesday morning, we went shopping in some local shops. It feels good to support small businesses. I know how much love and attention to detail I put into each of my creations for my Etsy shop. I could certainly see that love in the candles, soaps, pickles and jams I admired.

With Christmas shopping nearly complete, I turned my attention to cookies again. This time I added the milk. This time, they worked. All they need now is some sparkle and buttons.

Last night, like the 3 bears, we partied with chips and a James Bond movie in our 3 little chairs. Except I was in Mama’s leather Chair because I could have both laptops plugged in and lying at my feet. I’ve started the incredibly boring task of transferring files to my new laptop. We sampled some saskatoon berry jam on Dad’s homemade raisin ‘n spice sourdough bread muffins before toddling off to bed.

That means, dear diary, that I have a car to pack and a long road trip ahead.

Home

Tags

#whatsinmycup, Christmas, family, food, holiday, humour, tea, tea addict, tea lover, tea time

December has arrived and with it, a whirlwind of activity. This morning I headed out the door for a power-packed couple of days of shopping, baking, gabbing and tea drinking with my Mom (& Dad, but he’s a coca-cola fan)! What’s in my cup? Pumpkin Chai – because I need both caffeine and spice! Whatever your plans this week, I hope you’ll make some space to spend some time with your favourite people! Cheers!

Home is a comfort and home is a light
A place to leave the darkness outside
Home is a peaceful and ever full feeling
A place where the soul safely hides

Michael Card, Home

Dear Quarantine Diary – Week 34

Tags

family, food, holiday, humour, summer, sunsets

Dear Diary-This week I watched a short (& hilarious) YouTube video on hummingbirds. The most ridiculous thing was their mating ritual. Males will fly high over the female and perform a series of courtship dives. But as they swoop over the female, special feathers on their tail flutter, creating a unique sound that sounds like…a fart! Romantic “butt” farts? Apparently! But before any guys reading this cheer in celebration, let me be clear on behalf of your mates. It’s only romantic to hummingbirds. We may turn it into a joke or laugh (because when it comes to bathroom jokes and body noises, we are all still 11 inside), but in no way does it make it “randy baby”.

Dear Diary – I was looking forward to it, but once again, my angry ankle made me doubt my ability to withstand the walking tour…in 30C heat. So Eldest Son and my father went to see the WWII former bombing and gunnery school without out me. This base trained approximately 131,553 aircrew, including pilots, wireless operators, air gunners, and navigators for the Air Forces of Great Britain, Australia, New Zealand and Canada. It was decommissioned in 1969 and essentially abandoned for years. But it’s in the process of being restored, it’s stories being shared, and I think it’s a piece of history worth saving. Dad works part-time at a flying club, whose hangar and buildings was also used to train during the wars. It’s so cool to wander inside where evidence still exists of an era gone by, and see photos of this once bustling destination.

I told them they had to take photos…I really liked these ones of the barracks.

While the boys were out (and Youngest was still sleeping, his favourite activity these days), Mom and I went shopping. We bought important things, like butter tarts and a bathing suit for Eldest Son.

Though the label said the suit was large, it was a youth’s large. He couldn’t get it past his knees.

After the butter tarts, we all needed a large.

Dear Diary – A Pluviophile is a lover of rain, one who finds joy and peace of mind during rainy days. And there are days when I certainly enjoy being “stuck inside” or sitting on my back porch listening to it.

Not so much when you’re on vacation, and Eldest Son was with us for only a few days. Eldest Son, Youngest Son and I descended on my folks last week. We brought food, games, and our childlike wonder (or childish antics – read that how you will). As a Mama, I’m happiest when I have my kids with me.

We’ve played Ticket to Ride, Slay, and Carcassone, and we’re all still talking to each other.

There have been a few trips to dollerama. We read our books, snoozed, snacked, and started the new series, House of Dragons. One night we sat by the fire table until the mosquitoes found us.

Youngest mostly slept. I think he’s trying to ignore the start of school, which he will have to attend in person if he is to get the credits he needs to apply for university next Spring.

One afternoon, it had rained so hard that the planter box I gave Mom for her birthday was overflowing! It was wet outside! It was wet inside too. Eldest Son brought his camp stove in to clean it at the kitchen sink. He didn’t realize that after several hours, it wasn’t fully drained and poured water all over on floor. Mom just laughed…she had cleaned the floor the day before. Eldest Son used the mop to dry feet, so he could rescue his burning eggs.

He’s inherited my “bad luck”.

The boys entertained us as we listened to them making dinner: spaghetti!

Eldest Son started making waffles too…somehow I ended up cooking them…

We also celebrated Mom’s belated birthday (with Auntie M before she went on her own big holiday) with my homemade lemon chiffon cake:

Would Paul Hollywood approve? Who cares! It was delicious!

Even the hummingbird got sick of the rain. We sneaked out between thundering rain (and sometimes thunder) for a swim one afternoon, much to the distress of a female cardinal. We thought she was searching for her missing teen. Eldest Son discovered later that she actually had a nest in the wild rose bush right beside the pool, and we were disturbing her.

She had no idea just how disturbed she’d be the next day.

It was sunny on our final full day together and we had big plans…or rather, the guys had big plans…to topple a tree. My job was simply to record it. And maybe pick up sticks.

This rotten pine tree has been a favourite of the neighbourhood flocks, particularly the woodpecker! The trunk was studded with more holes than brown pine needles, and it desperately needed to come down before it came down on it’s own volition. Eldest Son had to remove every branch with his handsaw before tying a rope to the top. Once expertly notched at the base, Dad gently pulled the tree. It slowly leaned, crackling and snapping, and pausing halfway down for dramatic effect, before the final anti-climatic thud.

Traditionally, we have celebrated the end of summer with a DQ Blizzard, so we surprised my parents with them in the afternoon.

Before dinner, the boys and I tackled Eldest Son’s car. Youngest Son couldn’t help commenting on the amount of hair (and fries) in the car. I reminded him that when you look like Chewbacca, there’s bound to be a lot of hair. While he stood on his head to retrieve food wrappers and coffee cups under the seats, I emptied and washed the console. Did you know that coffee + heat+ sawdust creates a thin”coffee” gelee disk? Yummy! I washed the gummy change too.

By evening, we were hot and tired. Eldest Son and I hopped in the pool and washed the sky fade from pink to mauve. All the birds ceased their evening chatter, except Mama cardinal who was highly offended by our presence, and simply enjoyed this moment of peace.

But the party is over! While Youngest Son and I will stay on, Eldest Son is packed and heading home. He has 5 loads of clean laundry, a clean cook stove, a clean car, and a clean body (we cleaned the pool cover this morning. It no longer smells!). We’ll miss him, of course, but will focus instead on being thankful that we have one another.

Here’s to the twilight, here’s to the memories
These are my souvenirs, my mental pictures of everything
Here’s to the late nights, here’s to the firelight
These are my souvenirs

Switchfoot, Souvenirs

Tea With a Twist

Tags

family, food, holiday, humour, iced tea, summer, tea, tea addict, tea lover, tea time

Last Summer, Eldest Son and I sampled a couple types of hard iced teas during our week-long vacay at my folks, for research purposes. Hey – I can’t write about it if I haven’t tried it! Obviously a “hardened” tea isn’t for everyone, and lots of people have their reasons for abstaining. It’s certainly not something I imbibe on a regular basis, but it warranted a taste nonetheless.

We started with the most popular: Twisted Tea.

Twisted tea is a non-carbonated hard iced malt tea beverage made with black tea. It also contains sugar cane or honey, real lemon, ice and alcohol: beer and vodka. After it’s Original debut, the company came out with a number of other flavours: peach, blackberry, blueberry and mango. They also make a light version which has lower alcohol content, and half and half, which is half twisted tea and half lemonade.

In addition to the addition of alcohol, there’s another twist. Hard iced tea was first manufactured by mega-brand The Boston Beer Company in 2001…in Cinncinati, Ohio. It’s imported to Canada. It is 5% alcohol and 30mg of caffeine, so it provides a bit of a kick. I also found it quite sweet.

Don’t worry – I shared the can with Eldest Son and no Upwords tiles were harmed in the making of this blog post (but apparently I spelled “I Dig Tea” wrong)!

Hey Y’All is a “southern style” hard iced tea, brewed with selected black tea and lightly sweetened with pure cane sugar. It’s manufactured by the Hey Y’All Southern Tea Company in Vancouver, British Columbia, so it’s only available in Canada…and Bermuda! Vodka is the alcohol of choice! Other flavours include: raspberry, mango, Kentucky blueberry, Florida citrus, Georgia Peach, Mai Tai, Half and Half, and Southern Style.

They claim it has an “authentic old-fashioned ice tea flavour without the heavy sweetness. Well balanced and flavourful with a smooth finish”. I couldn’t have said it better myself.

Between the two, I actually preferred Hey Y’All because it had a stronger tea flavour and wasn’t as sweet.

Both companies recommend not keeping it in the fridge because temperature can affect the taste of tea over time. Rather, store it in a cool, dark place and serve it in a glass with fresh, crisp ice cubes.

They didn’t say anything about serving it this way! Stay cool and have a Happy Monday!!

Mama said there’ll be days like this,
There’ll be days like this mama said.

The Shirelles, Mama Said