Crazy Alabama

September 11, 2011

Sunday is usually my day with mum, but due to my mum’s obsession with her new Apple phone and Henry’s 2nd birthday celebrations our regular sunday lunch was postponed. (sidenote- no I didn’t have a secret toilet baby 2 years ago I am of course referring to my substitute child, Henry the schnauzer) So since I will be without my usual dose of mum’s crazy alabamaness I thought I would fill the internet world with a few of her recent gems.

The such (mis)adventure occurred a few months ago, when mum decided she wanted to go somewhere different for our after lunch coffee and cake and proceeded to take me to a hippie bookstore in Mt Hawthorn called Bodhi Tree that she and her sister had stumbled into after sorting out Nonna’s funeral details and in their grief remembered as being a great place to spend an afternoon. Soon I found myself surrounded by hippies and quaffed intellectuals reading books about crystals and Nelson Mandela. Husband and wives sipping chi lattes while reading foreign newspapers accompanied at the wooden tables by their gifted offspring, busily drawing pictures of our dying rainforests on recycled paper. I pretended I was enjoying myself as I often do when mum takes me to one of her new “discoveries” I wondered off to try to find a book I was remotely interested in flipping through and mere minutes later came back to find mum discussing the trauma’s of our past with a witchy looking woman who was rubbing her shoulders in calming concentric circles. Leave it to my mum to zero in on the only mature age lesbian in the store, when I joked to her that perhaps this was the case she insisted the woman was an “enchanted warlock”…. ok mum.

The other thing my lovely mother does is get her words mixed up…. in fact it happens so often now and I laugh so much at her jumbles that I have come to belive that she makes words/places/titles of things up intentionally to give me something to giggle about. For instance she spent about 20 minutes of our last coffee date discussing the plot of the latest “lorry potter” movie she had seen on GO! when that didn’t muster enough of a sneaky giggle from me she soon changed the subject to her new glasses, that look much like the glasses John Lennon would wear in pictures, mum in her off beat wisdom referred to them several times as her “oko homo” glasses…that’s just what the gay community needs, forget bears and cubs, its men and women for that matter resembling Yoko Ono.

Then there are our classic Dining wars! a battle to the death where mum tries to make me want to die in front of waiters… After I order politely from the menu mum will insist on adding little bits of “dina” to the order, such as asking for her garlic bread to be “well done” or asking “is it very garlicly?” or if we are ordering salad with bacon in it she will demand CRISPY bacon…”I don’t want my bacon soggy” she says. To which the 18 yr old serving us gives her a look that reads “go fuck yourself” lady. Other times she will act as though she can’t understand the menu properly but will refuse assistance from me, if I try to reach for her menu she will slap my hand and in a shrill voice proclaim “I can read you know Bennie, I’m not electric” ……

Then there are the random comments about ethnic minorities or religious groups that I brush off as whacky racisim…for instance every time we drive through mount lawley (which happens to be weekly at the moment) mum will point to the wealthy houses and say “The Jews live here” a comment I write off as untrue and mildly racist.. however a week ago I was informed that there is a very large jewish community living in mount lawley..so there you go! My only concern is does this mean I have to take everything my mum says as potentially truthful from now on ?????

God Bless You Trixie

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Reason Number # 54: In the case of I’m turning into my Mother

July 5, 2011

Remember that saying, Don’t sweat the small stuff? man that book really bugged me and I believe it is because just like my beloved mother I have lived a life sweating, obsessing and gently caressing the small stuff in life. Last night when we were watching Masterchef together she let out a tirade against a young female contestant named Danni. When I asked her to explain her hatred she informed that she didn’t like Danni because her tongue is too white. This also meant at one stage I had to hear my 57 year old mother, dressed in a pink flannel nightgown shout at the tv screen “bitch take a toothbrush to that white tongue of yours and fuck off” exact quote. So I guess the lesson here is next time I put someone on my “list” my husband knows who to blame.


Reason number #49: in the case of I’m turning into my Mother

July 4, 2010

# 49

I shout out to my husband “how do you spell ….”  at first it was only one or twice a week but now I find myself doing it every day.  The computer era has made the part of my brain which was once a spelling bee champ liquify (sidenote: I just called out to my husband “how do you spell liquify” ) and now I’m so embarrassed by my lack of spelling prowess that I have lost confidence in my ability to spell even the simplest words.  In the 23 years I spent living with my mum I would say a good year was spent spelling words for her and let me say this, when you live with a woman who spends half her time writing her deepest darkest thoughts in a journal and the other half writing erotic letters to her partners, ex lovers and the local butcher, those are moments of awkwardness no amount of expensive therapy can erase.  Trust me when I say a 12 year old girl doesn’t want to have to spell out loud words like sensual, ravish or libido on a weekly basis. If I examine this childhood trauma with “the glass is half full” mentality at least I can say that thanks to my help we always had a lot of fresh meat in the fridge.