Living with my mom is hilarious. I'm exposed to even more of her mom-isms that make me giggle. This post is a tryptych in honor of the mama.
I forgot to tell you this story - it happened a couple of months ago - a telemarketer called her house. She was trying to say she wasn't interested, but of course, you know these guys - they just talk above you when you try to break in to say, "Yes, a cruise sounds really great, but I know that the truth is that I haven't won a cruise. You just want to lure me to some place to listen about time shares..."
Anyways, when her initial try at civility failed, she started singing, at the top of her voice, "Master, the Tempest is Raging." Into the phone. Haha! And she started at the part that goes,
The wind and the rain will obey Thy will,
Peace (Peace), be still (be still)...
And I wasn't there, but I'll bet you approximately $100 that she inserted her deep man voice in those parenthetical parts.
And you know what? The telemarketer hung up on her.
I brought home a People Magazine that had some coverage of the VMA's in it, and Mom was flipping through the magazine. When she came to the picture of Miley Cyrus (she wasn't doing any twerking or sticking-out-of-tongue-ing or anything - just kind of standing like a star - arms up and legs out like a real star. Like a star with five points, is what I'm saying), she narrowed her eyes and muttered, to Miley's picture, "Well, I hope you're happy."
She's not a huge fan of Miley, apparently. (Neither am I, FYI.)
The other night at the ReddiCare, my mom started singing another random song. She knows the craziest songs. I hardly ever hear repeats. Just these old, old, strange songs. I recorded her:
Un-tryptych-related news - Micah has strep throat and I have thrush. Huzzah!