My mom and I have a way of acting retarded a little silly when we get together, especially if there is some task we have to accomplish. Here’s a case from the vaults:

Making Cranberry Sauce
This takes place over two years. Once on Christmas and the other time was Thanksgiving (not the same year, but I can’t remember which one happened first. Let’s just say that Thanksgiving did. We got together at Granny and Papa’s so that my mom could help me make fresh cranberry sauce to take to Ryan’s mom’s house for Thanksgiving the next day. So we’re busy washing, grating, and blending cranberries when my mom mutters, “Shit!” As is turns out she had lost one a few of her press on nails that were conveniently the same color as the cranberry sauce.

We both got on our hands and knees and searched the floor for the missing nails. By that time, we were both laughing hysterically. Ryan was in the next room, but we didn’t dare tell him what had happened. I think that we came to the conclusion that they had been ground up in the food processor. Our solution – add more pecans to the cranberry sauce so no one would know. Until Mom spilled the beans over the lunch table the next day.

The following year Ryan and I decided to have Christmas dinner at our apartment for the first time. I had a huge menu planned, but I got really sick a few days before Christmas and spent most of my time sick on the couch. Mom to the rescue. She came over and helped cook my Christmas feast. One evening I felt well enough to help, so we decided to make the cranberry sauce. Mom didn’t have press on nails this time.

We thought we could skip a step and take the cranberries straight to the blender instead of sending them through the food processor. The blender does have a grate setting. Boy were we wrong. It didn’t take long for the blender to start smoking, filling the whole apartment with the smell of burning. The blender died a quick death that day. All Ryan could do is shake his head. We’re kind of like Lucy and Ethel.

I’m so very lucky to have such a great mom. We are very alike, and so much of my personality comes from her (especially my love for children). One of the neatest times was when we taught a two year old class together. So often people will look at me and say “Ok, Judy” or “You act so much like your mom, ” and that makes me happy.

Happy Birthday Mom!