i'm on the wrong side of sixteen and a half.
i'm afraid the good times are over!
posted by fudge at 10:47 AM
Thursday, August 11, 2005
About Me
- Name: fudge
- Location: Milwaukee, Wisconsin, United States
you already know everything about me anyway. plus, i am the consummate judge of all quirky fiction.
Previous Posts
- wednesday nights at the skiers' house
- toothpaste for dinner
- quiet, kids, grandma's watching her stories
- barney must go
- you've gotta have at least one
- i am the fifth fantastic
- EUREKA!
- the epidemic with which we're dealing with
- the most extreme lambastions
- fish are friends!
15 Comments:
Uhhhhh
I don't know what that MEANS....
my half birthday was tuesday...everybody keeps telling me sixteen is supposed to be the best year of your life, and i already finished most of it and didn't even notice!
I think it's turning out to be a pretty good year for you...
16 was the best year of my life.
Sixteen was lame. 19 was the bomb.
I'm turning 25 in a few days and full of trepidation.
Another Leo! Landsman!
you're a leo? mi caramba!
yeah, i would imagine 19 would be better...hey, you're finally old enough not to have to forward waivers to your parents all the time.
never fear, parce. people have also told me 25 is the best year of your life.
come to think of it, i'm pretty sure 30 made it on the list too.
not 39 though.
well, regardless. YOU, unlike my father, stand some chance of getting some birthday bakery from me.
Haha! That would be awesome.
My family believes in ridiculous birthday dinners (this may or may not be a Southern thing) where the birthday person has the menu of his/her choice, no matter how much of a PITA it may be to make.
So next Thursday (my birthday is Tuesday but I'm celebrating with my family on a night when they can all be there) I will be eating boiled shrimp, twice-baked stuffed potatoes with 2 kinds of cheese, and double german chocolate upside down cake. Because my mom? Loves me. A lot.
::gapes::
do you think you could get your mom to love ME a lot?
hmm...the neighbors have offered to buy me ice cream before i go off to college...oh yeah, abba, they also wanna know all our birthdates all of a sudden. perhaps you should go on over there and find out what is up.
for my father's birthday, my mom and i made him:
(1) uneaten custard pie
(1) half eaten pumpkin pie
(16) completely gone fudge brownies
all to compensate for
(2) flat chocolate cakes
and
(1) unordered bakery cake,
which i resurrected, Frankenstein style, in the eleventh hour, as
(?) trifle using two-week-old whip cream and uneaten jars of pie filling.
You made a potluck parfait! That's what we call it down here, although we pronounce it par-FAYYYYY.
If you were anywhere close to here (and if my mother kept kosher) I'm sure she would love you with food. She does everyone. My theater class in high school loved my mother's banana bread more than cake, and she makes waayyyy too much of it every time so there was plenty. Last Thanksgiving and Christmas, it so happened that three of my five bachelor friends had to work at Jack in the Box for both holidays. My mom sent them plates of food on Thanksgiving when I told her they were there and not with their families, then sent plates of food and a bag of cookies on Christmas, because it's anathema to her that anyone should have to work on those days, and if they must, the fact that none of them were getting fed "real food" mortally offended her. So, she did something about it. It's her way.
I've got an essay brewing about cultures that use food as a way to show love, since I grew up in one. As of today, I'm 25, but when I walk in my mother's house, I am automatically offered the entire contents of the fridge and freezer. If I want a cube steak sandwich and steak fries, I can have that; if I want a baked potato, she'll make me one. The only things I'm allowed to prepare for myself at my mother's are drinks and sandwiches. She saves the really, really hard-to-make and annoying stuff, like the menu above, for birthdays and special occasions...with her and my dad on diets, there's not normally sour cream and real butter and stuff in the house, but there will be for my birthday feeding. Oh, yes.
a) if you do it right and have a little luck every year is at least a little better than the year before. I'm 37 and there's no previous year I'd rather do over.
b) it's "ay caramba".
Sweet one,
If life doesn't even begin until forty, then the best year can't possibly be sixteen! As long as you make good choices, it will get better and better every year. Hugs.
doctor bean:
thank you. this is what happens when you only half-listen to disney soundtracks. don't ask me what i think the genie is saying in aladdin, the part where he's making him into prince ali, faboulous he, ali-ababwa.
jc: aww...i like hugs.
Don't mention it. Ever.
"has he got a zoo
I'm telling you
it's a first class
me-na-ge-rie!
Prince Ali!
Glorious he!
Ali Ababwa!!"
Somebody shoot me quick I can't get this frikken song out of my head!!!!!
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