Once & Again

{January 16, 2012}   Back home again…

It wasn’t so bad this time being there. I guess because it had been over a month since we had last been together.

Hey, at least I figured out how to post on here from my phone.

It was a pretty hilarious afternoon.  My mother decided to get my oldest daughter to bake a cake. Well, I know my daughter can do it herself. She has make cakes before, as well as cookies and pancakes.  She’s getting pretty good. They are edible.

So I try to convince my mother to leave her alone. It fails. So finally the cakes (two round pans) are in the oven, the kitchen is cleaned, and she can sit and take a drink. (She needs one now.) When the daughter attempts to sit on the couch. I am not quite sure what happened. I am just glad that after five children and being a mother for the past sixteen years and  seven months, my reflexes are quicker than my brain.  I saw the huge ceramic lamp fall towards me than stop in mid air. My hand was holding it up. I didn’t even know it had moved! I’m just grateful there was not a lot of broken stuff to clean up.

Not yet anyway.

After our nerves settled down, with the help of some of the drink and General Tao’s Chicken, it was time to ice the cake.  The cake had been taken from the oven some thirty minutes previously. My oldest girl is lazy. For some reason she can not stand. So she is sitting on a low stool icing the cake.

Now let me add something here. When the daughter knocked over the lamp earlier there was a big commotion. My husband and step dad (Dad) were both outside grilling sausages on the grill and drinking beer around a small fire.  They thought my mother and I had finished the bottle.

Back to the daughter icing the cake. She can’t even sit up straight, she’s sloughed over the kitchen island. Which is why the cake slid off the counter and smashed onto the floor.  But just the plate beneath the cake broke. The cake itself was fine.  So I put the cake on a new plate and picked the shards off the cake. It was the only cake mix we had and it was Dad’s birthday today.

So I sliced it up and we all went outside to the menfolk. It was dark and I knocked over my husband’s beer. We all sang Happy Birthday. I asked my husband if he had heard any commotion again.  He said no because they were watching an armadillo crash through the undergrowth. They were both laughing saying it was either Big Foot or Chupacabra.  While we are talking he is scraping off the chocolate icing. He does not like chocolate. My mother is suspicious, but I convince her that it is just the icing he doesn’t like, that he has no knowledge of anything else (yet).  But one, she knows he does not like chocolate, and two, chocolate and beer are not a good mix anyway.

The women and children retire back inside the house. I hand out plates of cake to the children. They wouldn’t cake if there were tack in it! They all seem to enjoy the cake.  I, on the other hand, try a small bite and discover that if I eat any more I will surly get nauseous.  i do not feel like “tossing my cookies” or cake in this matter, and don’t eat any.

We leave for home about twenty minutes later. On the way home my husband tells me that Dad says he hasn’t heard Mother laugh that hard in a long time. So next time we come over, make sure to bring a bottle!

The Bottle


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