Lazy Kid

How the Cat Taught Me to Make the Bed

Mother always stayed on me about making my bed.  I was a bonafide lazy kid, intent on getting loud without doing it.  It just wasn’t on my priority list.  Sadly, Mother usually caught me and sent me back to do it. I knew better than to lie. Despite her nagging,  I hadn’t internalized the need to make my bed at that point.

One morning, she had multiple catastrophes allowing me to slip out.  I sloppily pulled my covers up, pulled the door behind me and escaped, unaware I’d shut the cat in my room.  He snuggled into the warm spot I’d left and settled in for a nice nice nap.  I suppose he yowled later in the day and Mother let him out.

When I got in bed that night, I lifted the covers and slid between the sheets in one swift move, encountering a cold,slimy sensation from knee to thigh.  When I hopped out of bed, I found a soupy poop surprise the cat smeared on my leg.  It was horrible and felt like it couldn’t’ t be washed off.  It changed my attitude about bed making forever.  The cat knew how to motivate

Shoo-Fly Pie, a Recipe that even people on Facebook would Love

pieSweet potato pies were a staple on our Thanksgiving table.  When I was about fifteen, Mother was running way behind with the many demands of the day and coerced me into making the pies the day before Thanksgiving.  I had better things to do; anything would have been better than being stuck in the house making pies.  Mother didn’t play around that day.  I wasn’t going anywhere or doing anything till those pies got made.  I was not happy.  All the other kids in the world got to do what they wanted to.  I had to work all the time.  It wasn’t my company coming tomorrow.  I didn’t even like stupid potato pie.  The only reason Mother had kids was so they could do her work.

I was experienced enough in the ways of the world to keep my smart mouth shut, but I fumed as I worked.  Mother even had the nerve to jump on me about pouting.  “You’d better stop that pouting and get in a better mood or I’m going to give you something to pout about.”

How in the heck do you fake a good mood?  Like a true smartass, I burst loudly into “Oh What a Beautiful Morning” and got a swift kick in the butt for my efforts.  It was always embarrassing when I pushed Mother far enough to get her in action.  She’s about four feet ten inches tall and squeaks when she talks.  It’s like getting swatted my Minnie Mouse.  It just made me feel stupid!

Back to the pies, I cooked and peeled sweet potatoes till my eyes crossed, whipped eggs, mixed the batter, and finally got those pies in the oven.  Just as I was getting ready to slip out the back door to slip out to catch my horse and ride, Mother caught me.

“Where do you think you are going?  Get back here and clean up this kitchen……and quit trying to run off.  I’m not through with you, yet.  You can forget about that horse until all the cooking is done, the kitchen is cleaned up, and the floors are swept.”  She was a slave driver.

Finally, after I muddled through the God-Awful mess I’d added to the breakfast dishes that were still piled in the sink, I got around to cleaning up my pie mess.  I was putting spices back in the cabinet when I happened to notice the label on the can of what I’d thought was pumpkin-pie spice.  FISH FOOD!  I’d just put fish food in the pies instead of pumpkin-pie spice.  I read the ingredients on the can…..insect and vegetable flakes!  In view of the situation, I reasoned it would be far healthier to keep my mouth shut than worry Mother about a little thing like fish food in the pies.  I put that fish food right back on the shelf and saved myself some trouble.  I didn’t like sweet potato pies, anyway.

The pies were good.  Everybody gobbled them up like they’d been craving fish food.  It was years before I felt like anybody really needed to know.