Chick-Fil-A, My Mom, and Their Fries

As I said previously my mom is the one who introduced me to Chick-Fil-A. She still enjoys a good Chick-Fil-A sandwich. She doesn’t like pickles but she doesn’t want the pickle taken off of her sandwich because apparently she likes the taste of the pickle. I find that weird but okay. She also likes mayonnaise on her chicken sandwich so I always make sure I get a couple of packets of that so she can add it when I bring it home to her.

She does not like the fries. For anyone who has never eaten at Chick-Fil-A (and I know that doesn’t include anyone in my town because everyone is there every single day except Sunday) they have waffle fries.

I like the waffle fries. Sometimes I even ask for a large. My mom turns her nose up at them. She’ll eat them if she has to but she lets it be known she is not a fan.

I don’t know why this is. They don’t taste any differently. At least I am not aware of any distinct “waffle fry” taste.

Maybe it’s the little holes in them? She thinks she’s not getting a whole fry? Yes, there are holes in them but they make up for that lack of volume by the sheer size of the waffle fry. This is not a mere shoe string french fry.

She doesn’t like holes in her food? I bet she doesn’t like Swiss cheese either.

This cheese has got holes in it. It’s no good!

Honestly, I could understand that. Swiss cheese has a distinct flavor compared to say, Gouda or cheddar or brie.

I’m pretty sure I’ve asked her before and she has no answer so far. Don’t worry. I’ll keep asking. If I ever get a conclusive answer I’ll report back.

A Retraction

My mother would like it known that she is not a liar. She will only cop to being a fibber. When asked the difference she stated, and I pretty much quote, “I hate liars. Lies are something big. Fibs are small.”

Yes, lying is serious business but tricking your daughter into thinking she has an extra day to clean the house is just a light hearted “fib”. Tons of fun, in fact.

Also, she wanted everyone to know she did indeed understand the whole, “Asking for a friend.” Apparently my mom has a snarky sense of humor, much like me.

The woman is quick on her feet, too. We went down to visit Rock Star yesterday. I asked her which car we should take. She said to take mine because then I could drive.

I had to stop for gas. It’s an almost 3 hour drive down there. As we’re driving I say to her, “Since I’m driving you can pump the gas when we get to the gas station.”

That did not go over well. She did not buy it. She did pump it.

And thus concludes my retraction.

More Musings From My Mom

For those of you who love hearing about my mom, gather ‘round. I have another story for you.

My mom likes to play this game I call, “I’m Lying To You About When I’m Really Coming Home.”

See, I’m like a 16 year old who has been left all alone in the house while her parents go out of town for a week whenever my mom leaves for a period of time. I don’t have parties and do things I shouldn’t but I do tend to leave my shoes lying around the house and I don’t always do the dishes each night. I’m a little more relaxed with my cleaning standards.

Because of this I always need an arrival date so that I am sure to have the house clean when she arrives back home. The problem with this is my mom is a liar. She’s very good at telling me she’s coming home one day and then ends up coming home 2 or 3 days earlier. When I’m not prepared. And then she laughs. She thinks it’s hysterical.

“I’m on my way home today. I’m 3 hours away!” After she told me she wasn’t coming home for another 2 days.

Yeah, real fun stuff. I’m pretty sure I have anxiety because of this.

She’s been gallivanting all around the south for these last 3 weeks. She was in Savannah visiting a friend who just moved there and then went on down to South Carolina to see a cousin and after that she went on up to Virginia where she has been staying with yet another cousin.

I knew the time was getting close so I texted her yesterday to get an arrival time.

I’m sure you’ve all seen Facebook posts or memes where someone asks a question and then they follow it up with, “Asking for a friend.”

How do you get bloodstains out of a carpet? Asking for a friend.

Anyone else eat an entire bag of double stuff Oreos while watching Hocus Pocus 2? Asking for a friend.

Does anyone know how to deal with a mouthy 16 year old? Asking for a friend.

Anyone have know if that cute guy is single? Asking for a friend.

I ask my mom, “When are you coming home? Asking for a friend…”

My mom replies, “Why does your friend want to know when I’m coming home?”

Exercise and Education In One Fell Swoop

I’ve been working from home this week. I did something to my shoulder while on vacation last week. According to the chiropractors and physical therapists on YouTube it is probably a pinched nerve. However, this post is not about my ailments. It’s about my cute mom.

As I said, I’ve been working from home this week since Monday afternoon. Each day my mom announces to me, “I’m going to the library.”

We live outside the city limits so I’m not completely sure how far away the library is. I’m not dealing with city blocks. I’d say maybe a quarter of a mile away. Or somewhere between a quarter and a half mile. She walks there. She likes walking.

Today when she comes into the room I’ve set up as my office to let me know she’s walking to the library I finally ask her, “Do you go to the library every day?”

“Every day Monday through Friday,” she tells me. Yep, my mom, the person who always has stamps, gets the package in the mail right away, irons clothes, and is a big fan of three square meals a day, is also a daily visitor to our local library.

I’ve lived with the woman for 6 years now and I’m just now discovering this.

I look at her, curiosity getting the better of me. “What on earth do you do at the library every day?”

Serious as a heart attack the woman begins to list the many things she does at the library. Her routine, if you will.

“I read the paper and then I make a copy of the crossword puzzle and then, if there’s a new People magazine I read that.”

By the time she gets to “copying the crossword puzzle” the corners of my mouth have curved upwards into a bemused smile. My mom loves her crossword puzzle.

“And don’t you dare put that in your fucking blog!” she tells me.

Oh no! This is too good not to share.

“What’s wrong with going to the library every day? I’m getting my steps in and I’m reading. I’m getting my exercise and education in one fell swoop!”

“I’m sorry. Can you repeat that? That’s going to be the title.”

My mom is so cute. I told her that, too. She’s trotting off to the library every day, getting her steps in and reading her newspaper she refuses to pay for anymore because they’ve pissed her off one too many times.

My Mom and Her Watch

Two years or so ago I bought myself a Galaxy watch. I needed something that would count steps for me. I was going to go with the simpler Galaxy Fit, I think, that just counted the steps but Target only had the complete watch in stock and I really needed one so I went ahead and bought it.

I hated it! Oh, it had some features that were nice. I liked being able to see texts on my watch. I think I could use my finger to write. And keeping count of my steps was interesting. But overall, I am not a watch wearer. I am especially not a watch wearer when the watch is so damn big and bulky.

My mom wanted to get a FitBit but didn’t want to pay FitBit prices. Anyway, long story short I gave her my watch. And now she’s mad at it.

It keeps telling her to take a walk. She does not like that at all. She said, and I quote, “I don’t need a goddamn watch telling me to get up and take a walk. I’ll take a walk when I feel like it.”

In her defense she does indeed take many walks, especially now that she’s down in Florida where the weather is a bit better than what we’re experiencing up here in northern Indiana.

I talked to her the other day. She told she kept checking my blog to see if I had printed the story about her being mad at her watch. She upped the ante. As she put it: I’m still irritated by it. Who does it think it is? How dare a watch tell me, a human being, what to do?

I don’t think she understands that some people actually pay a lot of money to have their watch tell them what to do.

P.S. On the bright side, Mom, when Rock Star comes down for Spring Break you can get ask her how to make it stop. Apparently you can turn it off.

Even More Conversations With My Mother

We had been out shopping and had stopped to grab some Chick-Fil-A. The dining rooms are still closed so I pulled over into an adjacent parking lot so we could eat. We were listening to Christmas music on the radio when Bing Crosby comes on singing, “White Christmas.”

No one whistles anymore.

Me: What?

He’s whistling. Listen. No one whistles anymore.

I did not even know what to say to that. It’s true. There is not a lot of whistling in today’s music. I think the last great whistling solo might have been “Don’t Worry, Be Happy,” back in the 80s.

That’s my mom. Lamenting the lost art of whistling.

P.S. As I mentioned she’s down in Florida. A week or so ago she was out and listening to live music. She called to let me know that one of the performers whistled. She was very pleased. Told me she almost recorded it to send it to me.

She Said What?

My mom is back at it again. We were walking through Lowe’s or Menard’s or some other home improvement store when she starts talking about these uber expensive toilets- like almost a thousand dollars for a toilet.

I asked aloud, “What in the hell does that toilet do for $1000?”

“Probably gives you orgasms,” my mother replies.

My son happened to be walking with us at that moment. I’m sure he probably knows what an orgasm is even if he hasn’t experienced one but I don’t think he needs his grandmother going around loudly proclaiming that the thousand dollar toilet gives you orgasms.

If that wasn’t bad enough we were out all day on Saturday. She complains about being bored if we’re not running around all weekend so I kept her busy. At one point she wanted to go check out a park and see what was going on there because she had heard there was some event going on.

Clearly there was some kind of race happening. She was insistent upon walking down the trail close to where the race station was set up.

“We can’t go down there! That’s where they’re racing.”

“Says who? They can’t stop me!” she declares.

Yep, she’s going to crash a race in order to get her leisurely walk in down by the river.

Perverted Shit My Mother Says

I was all set to write a cute story about my mom and her poncho while we were down in Florida.

We were shopping at the outlet mall when it began raining. Hard. Like raining cats and dogs. We were on our way out of the outlet anyway when the rain began pouring down, but our car, naturally, was outside in the monsoon.

My mom starts rummaging through her purse. “I have a poncho in here.”

“Of course you do,” I replied.

I felt like a petulant teenager as I tried to dodge this plastic poncho which she was steadfastly determined to get me to wear. “Just put it on your head!” she insisted. “At least your head will stay dry!”

Seriously! Who carries a poncho in her purse? She will vigorously defend herself until the end, saying she had heard on the news it was supposed to rain and she had this from some other event so decided to tuck it into her purse, and wasn’t I lucky that she had it with her?

That’s my mother, folks. Sweet little lady with a poncho in her purse, always ready for a storm. Also a sweet little lady with a gun and a concealed carry permit, but that’s a story for another day. Then came yesterday when IT happened.

I was telling her that Rock Star shared with me she thought her dad had gotten fat.

“Must be all of Harley’s great homemade cooking,” I snarked to my mom.

As you might recall I was grilled on the witness stand during our divorce trial about my shortcomings as a wife, and one of those shortcomings was my failure to provide a five course home-cooked meal every evening. Apparently, Harley is feeding him a little too well.

My mom looks me in the eye and says, I swear to God, “Must be all that pussy he’s been eating.”

My mouth fell open. I’m pretty sure I blushed. I was beyond shocked.

She then proceeds to take it one step further. “Or is that low cal?”

MOTHER! I had to walk away.

I have been traumatized, people. Traumatized, I tell you! I am not sure I have the wherewithal to go on. You may never hear the story of CF and graduation now. I am off to stuff my ears with cotton.

More Truths Are Revealed

August 2015

Well, my dear husband is off again.  Supposedly to Blockhead’s but The Saint tells me he’s going to Harley’s.  My mother is driving down to get proof for me.  As soon as I told her she jumped in the car and went.  She’s about 3 hours into the trip.  It should take him 6 hours, assuming he doesn’t stop, if he really ever does stop.  Maybe all this anxiety stuff is just a bunch of bullshit.

He’s withdrawn $300 out of savings and he’s done it 5 times since June 22nd.  The Saint also told me he bought her 2 new iPhone 6s.  So the Verizon bill that is supposedly for his mom and Pastor Fake is actually for the whore and her daughter.  He promised her kids a Great Dane puppy and to buy her daughter a car.  That was after he fixed her truck.  He’s so dead to me.  And he is going to be in for such a rude awakening when he’s left with $1600/month.  He has to pay rent, utilities, buy gas, buy alcohol and Kodiak, and buy food.  Wonder how much she’ll want him then.