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Wednesday, May 11, 2005
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Mother's day...Part II
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Lest anyone get the impression that Mother's day was no fun around here, allow me to submit the following photos. These are just a few of those captured by my ever-present and trusty (but aging, by digi-cam standards*) Oly C-2500L. After getting home from visiting my mom, we returned home in expectation of a visit from another Mother/Grandmother of note, that most of this audience would know as "Marg". Cassie and I prepared a HUGE batch of chicken-broccoli-dijon pasta, one of our signature dishes. After enjoying dinner with Marg and Spmarg, we simply spent several hours in stimulating conversation unitl they had to leave. That left our family a few hours to wind down after a generally very nice day. Early in the evening, Raymond and Ted began hovering around which is generally an indication that they are getting hungry. It was just a bit chilly outside so we has started a small fire in the woodstove, so Ray decided that he would REALLY love to cook hotdogs on sticks over the fire for dinner. Approval was granted so I went outside and grabbed a few hot dog sticks, prepped the dogs, and Ted and Ray proceeded to cook. A minute or two into the operation, Ted declared that "My face is getting hot!" and passed the stick off to me to finish off. Ray deemed his done, put on bread with all of the requisite condiments, took a bite and declared it the best hotdog in the world, ever. Curiously Mrs. A felt exactly the same way, when she tried hers. As did Ted. Anyhow, the smell of food cooking soon attracted some of the big ones. Not wanting to be left out, 'Drew and Chaz decided to do some cooking on the fire. Chaz started on a hotdog of his own. As Drew has never been a fan of hotdogs, he opted for the slab-o-pepperoni-on-a-skewer instead. Things where going along great, until Drew decided to check the progress of his pepperoni. Upon withdrawing it from the fiery furnace he shook it a bit, splattering a bit of scalding pepperoni oil onto his hand. This caused him to jump, thus flicking the skewer holding the red hot sausage. The quivering mass you see here, shrinking into the fetal position on the floor is Chaz, who got sprayed in the face by a much larger quantity of said flaming hot fat. Luckly, he slowly recovered. For some reason known only to him, Drew ran into the bathroom, and proceeded to rinse off the pepperoni in the bathroom sink, chased by his mother, yelling at him to not get grease all over the bathroom that she had cleaned just that morning. She chased him out of the room, smacking him on the back of the head as he ran off. All was well in the end. Chaz made a full recovery, soon being well enough to engage Cassie in a few rounds of that "try-to-smack-the-top-of-my-hand-before-I-can-move-them" game that none of us could remember the name of. Drew ate his pepperoni. And peace reigned in the land. If enduring this asylum-like enviroment 365 days a year is not a monument to the endurance of a mother, I don't know what is. Take a bow, (my) Mrs. A., you've earned it. * Cheap, sly (and likely ineffective) plug with BOTH my birthday AND Fathers day just around the corner. Heh... |
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| thus voiced The A, Mistah @ 7:26 PM | |
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