Here’s how I knew that today is Monday. All day of it.
Screen shot of my latest follower: getcoloncleanse.
Yup. It’s a Monday alright. All damn day long. Did I mention that?
Category Archives: Diet tips
Talking Turkey with Mom
It seems like just the other day that I was talking about folks to whom strange things just happen. Maybe that’s because it was just the other day that I told this story.
I have a secret, though. I’m not the only person in my family with this, ummm, gift for attracting the strange and humorous. Dad used to say that if there was a weirdo within 5 miles of him, that weirdo would find Dad and have a nice long chat. But if something weird was going to happen, well, it would happen to Mom. Somehow I managed to inherit both weirdness magnets. Sigh.
But this is Mom’s story.
Mom wasn’t the bird lover in our family. Dad was. So I should have known something weird had happened when Mom identified a bird I was looking at from a distance. Mom and I were driving not far from John’s and my house one day in about 1990, and I pulled over to look at the large birds circling above us. Back then large predatory birds soaring were still an unusual sight — I always assumed they were eagles. I mean, what else could it be? I kept trying to get a good look.
“They’re turkey vultures,” she said with complete certainty. “We see them all the time at home in Florida.”
They weren’t eagles?
(Google image, natch)
“Turkey vultures?” I said, not believing her for a minute. I’d never even heard of such a creature. Mom pursed her lips and looked back at me, slightly annoyed that I was questioning her (never seen before) bird identification skills.
I should have been suspicious. I should have know there was a story behind Mom’s sudden large bird expertise.
“They’re really big. And up close, they really do look just like turkeys.”
“When did you ever get ‘up close’ to a turkey vulture, Mom?”
She tried to avoid the question.
“Mom….” It was never too hard to get Mom to tell her stories. Something else we have in common. “Fess up…”
“It wasn’t my fault. That refrigerator at home is just too small.”
“Huh?”
“Well, it happened last Thanksgiving, but I didn’t want to tell you,” she laughed. “I knew I’d never hear the end of it.”
“Mom …”
“Dad and I went to the grocery store on Saturday, as usual, the weekend before Thanksgiving,” she continued. “And we bought a frozen turkey for Thanksgiving Dinner.”
“OK.” I wasn’t catching on.
“Well, it was a frozen turkey. Frozen solid. You know it takes days to thaw those things. You might as well try to melt an iceberg. I put it into the roasting pan and placed it on the counter to thaw. But I kept having to move it around that tiny kitchen to do anything else. Then, on Sunday night when I was making dinner, I needed my counter. So I put the still rock hard turkey into the carport.”
“Mom, doesn’t your carport get pretty warm? It is in Florida, after all.”
“Well, that wasn’t really the problem,” she said, laughing. “Not exactly, anyhow. Or not at first. The problem was that I forgot I’d left the turkey there. I woke up Thursday morning, ready to get started on Thanksgiving Dinner and couldn’t find my turkey! I thought I was going nuts. I knew we had bought one. ‘Where’d you put my turkey?’ I asked your father. ‘I didn’t do anything with it. Did it get up and walk away?’ he asked. And then I remembered – ‘Oh Lord, it’s in the carport. I hope it’s still OK to eat.’”
“I went out the door to find the carport filled with turkey vultures. And you know, they really do look just like turkeys. They have those red heads and bulging eyes. They had torn the packaging apart and were eating our Thanksgiving turkey! I sent your father out to shoo them all away. And then he had to go to Publix to get something for our feast.”
I roared. So did she, remembering.
“I told him to get a piece of beef to roast. I’d had enough birds for a while.”
Mom was absolutely right. Turkey vultures look a whole lot like turkey turkeys. Especially after they’ve just had Thanksgiving dinner.
Photo by Tom Nichols, Fairfield, CA found here: http://www.ibabuzz.com/garybogue/2011/09/02/turkey-vulture-up-close-and-personal/
HAPPY THANKSGIVING to my fellow ‘Mericans!
To those who aren’t over indulging this week, can I send you a few pounds?
Filed under Conspicuous consumption, Diet tips, Disgustology, History, Holidays, Huh?, Humor, Mom, Wild Beasts
Ancient History PC
In the olden days, I didn’t need books to find answers to my questions. I could avoid the library. And research? Be serious. Not me. Nope, I could tap the fountain of knowledge. At any time of the day or night. Easily. Most of the time I just had to roll over or maybe, during business hours, pick up the phone.
My ability to get all the answers became widely known amongst my circle of friends. And so whenever I or any of my friends needed to know a bit of history, a philosophical principle, how to do a math problem, they’d come to me. They knew I could solve the mystery. Sort of.
“Elyse,” they’d say, “would you ask John …”
And no matter what the question, John always knew the answer. Always.
But then came personal computers and search engines. I think John was hurt by the fact that I no longer called him for all the answers.
In the intervening years, somehow I forgot. Or maybe I’d gotten used to being married to such a smart guy. Or maybe I was just used to having easy access to all of life’s mysteries at my fingertips.
Not long ago, though, I was thrown back into the early days of my marriage. Yup, I was reminded just how much stuff is packed into my husband’s brain. It was almost as good as reliving that very first kiss. (But not quite.)
You see, he and I were driving through Pennsylvania a few weeks ago. We passed farm fields ripe with corn, a plant I knew by sight from my days of stealing it from farm fields in my home town. There were also fields of other plants right next to the corn, but I didn’t recognize them. Apparently, I had never stolen those plants. Obviously they don’t taste good with butter.
“I wonder what that is growing in those fields,” I casually asked John.
“They’re soybeans,” he replied without missing a beat. “They need the same soil and conditions as corn, so they are often planted near each other.”
I looked at my husband and remembered how, when we were first married, I could always count on him to know whatever I didn’t know. He still does! Even after all this time slummin’ with me!
I smiled at him. “You know, it’s just like being married to Google.”
John has filled in many of the blanks in my life. He’s been doing that now for 27 years (on the 20th).
September 10th is John’s birthday. Happy birthday to the smartest guy I know.
For my long-time bloggin’ buddies, you’ll know that John and I have very different musical tastes. But this is a song we both love, and a version we both think is one of the best.
With it, I toast the very best husband I’ve ever had. Of course he knows that he’s the best husband I’ve ever had. After all, he knows everything.
Filed under Bloggin' Buddies, Conspicuous consumption, Diet tips, Family, History, Humor
Eggscruciating Mistakes
Normally, I like to wait until about noon to face the day’s failure. FailureS.
In fact, I try to put this knowledge off as long as possible. Some days I wait to learn what I’ve done wrong until it’s time to leave the office when I realize all the things I’ve forgotten to do. Usually with someone chasing me to the elevator saying “did you … ?”
Other times, helpful drivers point out my driving failures with a finger gesture on my way home.
On yet other days, I wait until I get home, where my husband, son, dog or the resident birds and squirrels can chip away at my self-esteem.
Not today.
Nope.
Today, since I woke up early (and learned that I picked the wrong lottery numbers by mistake), I treated myself to a nice breakfast. Eggs! And as I sat down to enjoy their yellow, fluffy goodness, I realized that I was a total failure. I made mistakes cooking my eggs.
It’s true. Huffington Post told me so — during my second bite, when I clicked on this article:
9 Mistakes You’re Making With Scrambled Eggs
Apparently I am easily satisfied because mine tasted great. But who am I to know?
Photo: Google, of course.
My own misteggs caught in my throat on the second bite.
It’s going to be a bad day.
Filed under Criminal Activity, Diet tips, Driving, Family, Humor
Carryout for Dinner?
It’s late. It’s Friday. I’m just about to leave work.
Tonight, I’m ready for carryout. Anybody else up for it?
I think I’ll use the front door, though.
Note: The original video was taken down, but I found another on YouTube (go YouTube). There are several more versions if you search for “Bear steals dumpster”
Filed under Conspicuous consumption, Criminal Activity, Diet tips, Humor
FiftyFourandAHalf 