The Meems and I went for mani-pedis this morning. I like to get to "Luxury Nails" when it opens at 9:00 to cut down on the wait time. Poor Meems. She usually sleeps until about 11. Today she had to roll out of bed at 7AM so that she would have time to dress and eat a bowl of cereal. That's all. No makeup. No messin' with her hair (at least it wasn't obvious that she had touched her hair). I picked her up at 8:55. You do the math.
The minute we walk into the nail "spa," the conversation ALWAYS goes like this.
I commence to sorting through about 200 bottles of polish praying that "Cotton Candy" is still in production. Today the first bottle of polish I picked up was Cotton Candy! I wondered if this might be a good day to take Meems to buy a lottery ticket. I hand the polish to Mom.
Mom: "Is this Cotton Candy?"
I quickly sort through a variety of responses that are on the tip of my tongue:
- "No, but it's just as good. It's called The White Part of Candy Corn."
- "They renamed it. It's now called Pink-a-Doodle-Do."
- "Wait a minute. Sometimes you can't remember the names of your 3 brothers. How is it you can remember the name of this nail polish?!"
- "Why are you even asking the question?! You asked for Cotton Candy! Yes, it's Cotton Candy! Golly bum, woman! Do you think I would try to trick you or something?"
- "Yes, it is, indeed, Cotton Candy!"
I think of Jesus and choose response #5.
After our beautification comes another predictable conversation.
Mom: "I'll take you out to eat! You pick the place!"
Me: "Hmmm. Let me think..."
I am not thinking. I already know the answer. It's her answer.
Mom: "Can you think of a good place that serves breakfast?"
I am looking at it. It's right across the street. I decide to cut to the chase.
Me: "I know! Let's go to Cracker Barrel! You can have the Old Timer's breakfast with 2 eggs over easy, 3 pieces of bacon, 2 pieces of toast with jelly, grits, and hash browns!"
Mom: That sounds GOOD!
We go. We order. I finish my meal about 20 minutes before Mom. She eats every single bite of the Old Timer's Feast. I'm not sure that I could eat that much in one sitting even if manager of Cracker Barrel himself promised me an "I Feasted on the Old Timer" t-shirt for my efforts. My little 4'11" mother who doesn't weigh more than about 130 pounds can pack it in!
|I usually take a picture of Meems and the Old Timer's Breakfast |
to send to the boys. They loves them some Mimi.
Just when I think that she can't possibly put another single morsel in her mouth, she asks me if there is more toast. I gag.
Me: Aren't you about to pop!?
Mom: They make really good toast. [She signals a passing waitress.] I need more toast! [More toast magically appears.]
Me [laughing]: I'm texting the boys to tell them that you're on your third piece of toast!
Wait for it. Wait for it.
Mom: Is this what they call binge eating?
Me: I think that the Old Timer plus an extra piece of toast would come close to qualifying. If you're thinking about purging, please don't purge until you get back to Raider Ranch!!
She laughs with me. That's what I love the absolute most about my little mother. She laughs at herself all the time. She laughs. I laugh. We laugh.
I'm with you, boys. I loves me some Mimi.
[We're going to have a slumber party next Monday night. I'll get back whicha on that.]