This is not a picture of me looking contemplatively out over the water. It’s not me at all, I found it on morguefile.com. In reality, I am sitting at my computer. I’m also not a senior citizen. But she’s lovely. I bet she’s sweet. Does she look sweet? Or maybe she’s really nasty and foul. That would be funnier.
I’ve probably just had an argument with my tween or teen daughter while getting them off to school (or asking them to do a chore) or I’m considering if the weather is conducive to a walk, or I’m making a shopping list, or wondering if I could really throw out everything I own and live minimally…because stuff is never-ending. Or maybe I’ve just finished cleaning the bathrooms for the millionth time, or unloaded the dishwasher.
I’m also wondering if I spelled “conducive” correctly.
Just looked that up. I did. Good.
I’m just your average housewife, age somewhere north of thirty. Probably somewhere around Maine, but not quite Canada. I am also an artist (painter) and just trying to keep my family/home running while still finding time to nurture my own creativity.
When mom began to create the morning, it being unformed and void, with
darkness in the kitchen and a wind from someone’s butt (will u excuse
urself pls?) sweeping thru teh kitchen__Mom said, “Let there be light”
and someone hit the switch. Mom saw that the light was good, although it
hurt her eyes a bit. And then Mom said “Let there be coffee!” And there
was. And it was good.
Mom called the light “Day”, when we do “day” things, and the darkness She called “Night” when the kids sleep (and all is peacefulness.)
And there was evening and there was morning, and dammit if they just don’t keep coming. Over and over.
Mom said, “Let there be an expanse in the midst of the kitchen that we shall call ‘The Table'” We shall sit at it and partake. And the new expanse created by partaking of the goods of “The Table” shall be called “My ass.”
Don’t ask me if this is the first or second day, as they all blend together.
And it came that some other stuff happened, and the inhabitants of “The Kitchen” (being small and constantly hungry) demanded sustenance.
And Mom said “Let there be frozen waffles.” But when inspected, proved unworthy, having the smell and consistency of an old sponge.
There was weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth.
And Mom said “I shall make pancakes!” and there was rejoicing and hosannas, the land flowed with milk and imitation butter flavored syrup.
– From the holy book of “Yo Mamma.”, November 14, 2009