I've Got One of Those Too??

Feet are ugly - well my feet are.  I seem to have inherited all of the mismatched traits of my family:  large feet, short legs, long torso, bad hair, failing eyesight, etc., but I have no idea where my boobs came from since all of the women in my family that I've met are generously endowed.  I suspect mine come from a throwback gene from some Neanderthal relative.  At least I don't need an under wire bra, or a bra at all for that matter.  I be goin' "commando" (the feminine version).

Oh, and I've got BROAD shoulders.  Now, if any women out there remembers the 80's, you probably recall that there were shoulder pads in practically EVERY blouse, shirt (yep, even t-shirts), jackets and the like.  I'd look like a CFL player (that's NFL to you Americans) in full gear.  Not a very attractive look.  So, out the pads went.  Thanks to my Nanny (grandmother) and my dad, both of whom are/were pack rats, I saved them for "something" useful.  It turned out that they came in very handy a few years later when I attended a Halloween Stag & Doe party dressed up as Elvira.  The pads were extremely useful in enhancing and pushing up what little cleavage I had (and, boy, did some of the women get pissed at their significant others for eyeballing  me!).  Heh heh.

Not that I am complaining about my body.  I've grown accustomed to it (like I have a choice?), but the only thing I would have rather not inherited is the "European Toe".  Girls don't necessarily look at their feet in a fashion sense until they need to buy nice shoes.  It was about the time that I actually had to wear a dress that I needed not only the dress, but the shoes to go with it.  A stubborn tomboy was I.

Having settled on a dress, we went for shoes.  Since I expected to wear these shoes not more than once, maybe twice, a year, I opted to try the "open toe" style with a moderate heel.  When I looked down at my feet, my toes all painfully squished together, the only thing that came out of my mouth was, "Holy shit! What's wrong with my toes??", or something to that effect.  My mom explained that, because of our European heritage, it was known to be a "European Toe".

The toe right next to my big toe (on both feet) was longer than any of the three that were visible, looking like the appendage I wasn't supposed to be born with.  Jeez, thanks mom.

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Yes, She Reads This Blog - Momisms (Part 1)

I've read in several blogs and comments where some people are reluctant to tell their friends, family and co-workers, etc. about their blog for various reasons. I would have to agree with some of those reasons. Having an online journal imparts writers the freedom to say whatever they want and, in some cases, gives them the anonymity they wish to enjoy should they ever malign write about their friends, family, etc.

But unlike some relatives, my mom enjoys reading my blog.  She also reads many of the others that I follow and thinks one person is "totally nuts" - but in a good way.   I even have her proofread some of my stuff for errors (usually grammatical) or for some other constructive criticism.

Sorry about your luck mom, you won't be proofreading this one.

My mother's "Momisms" include, but are not limited to, the comments, words, expressions, questions, mixed metaphors, etc. that escape her lips from time to time.  And since I'm in a sharing mood:

We were having some problems with our Internet provider and their e-mail services wherein we were not able to send or receive.  The IP tech said they would look into it and gave us an alternate DNS Server number that would circumvent the issue in the meantime.  I was experiencing the same problem just recently and was cursing aloud that I couldn't even get connected to the net.  She said, "Try using that other DNA number".   There are times I wish we didn't share the same DNA:  this was one of those times.

I don't know if it's her age or the fact she has too much shit in her ears, but she's going deaf.  I, on the other hand, can hear a Palmetto bug fart in the next room.  Occasionally I make stir-fry for dinner with either rice or Thai noodles, so I opted for the noodles the other night.  She complemented me on the dinner, for which I  thanked her, but I pointed out, "I think I overcooked the Thai noodles", to which she responded, "There are pine needles in this??".

The thermometer incident (no, it's not what you may think):  I finally went out and bought a digital thermometer.  Whoever invented those mercury-type ones should have one stuck in his eye.  "Yeah,  I'll bet you can read it NOW, asshole".  At any rate, I mentioned that I had bought a DIGITAL thermometer that day.  She asked, "What does it read out?".  WTF??  I had no idea what she was asking.  I thought about it for a few seconds and I was still confused.  Did she mean the temperature, the digits, the language, does it speak to you?  The only response I had was, "Um...Chinese?", or something to that effect.  Granted, she has been living here for about 15 years so I could blame it on a Bahamianism, but I don't know - I'm still scratching my head at that one.

I would be remiss if I didn't share one of my own flubs: We were talking about broccoli one night and the fact that she doesn't like how the florets 'feel' in certain dishes. I like broccoli and try to prepare dishes that would be to her liking, so she mentioned that there was a soup recipe that I might try sometime. I asked if it was a cold soup like "gestapo": what I meant was "gazpacho".  Apparently it IS in the DNA.

Going back to my opening paragraph, my mom, evidently, did not read those posts and comments about  'sharing' their blogs with relatives and the like:  She e-mailed a link to to my blog to (OMG!) my uncle,  and a couple of other people.  In the reference line of the e-mail she wrote, " RE:  (myrealname's)  BLO".


Apparently I "BLO".